MATTHEW 20:1-16
A FEW YEARS ago a friend loaned me a book by Dr. Kevin Leman, cleverly titled Adolescence Isn’t Terminal. As I skimmed through the book, I came across an interesting story not about adolescence but about Einstein. Leman shares:
In the late 1930’s, a young golf instructor had the formidable task of trying to teach the game to the renowned physicist Albert Einstein... Unfortunately what Einstein had in mental ability he seemed to lack in physical dexterity. His hand-eye coordination wasn’t the best, and Einstein kept missing many of his shots. After each miss, the golf pro dutifully pointed out what Einstein had done wrong.
“Take the club back more slowly.”
“Choke up on the club.”
“Keep your head down.”
“Don’t open up the club face.”
“You’re jerking the club when you transition into the downswing.”
Finally an obviously frustrated Einstein asked the young golf pro to hand him a few balls, which the pro did. Then, throwing four balls back to the pro at once, Einstein yelled, "Catch!”
The pro dodged and weaved but failed to catch a single ball. Einstein raised his finger and offered, “Young man, if I throw you just one ball, you can catch it. If I throw four at once, you can’t catch even one. So when you teach, make only one point at a time!”
In this chapter on Jesus’ Parable of the Workers in the Vineyard, I will give you four points—one major point, two sub-points, and one minor point—one point at a time.
A Summary of the Symbolism
In the world of parable interpretation there are a number of schools of thought, two of which I find most convincing. One school advocates that each parable has one main point; the other school advocates that there are as many main points as there are main characters. I think this parable has one main point (thus I side with the first school), but is best preached using three points (thus I side, not in theory but in practice, with the second school). I am truly all things to all people. I offend none and embrace all.
The main point of this parable, or what I’ll call the “major” point so as to distinguish it from the “minor” point, is this: God’s gift of salvation is just and generous. But I’ll divide that major point into two sub-points, both of which focus, as the parable itself does, on those workers hired first but paid last.
Let me state the sub-points, unveil the symbolism of the story, and then come back to the sub-points and explain them. If that sounded confusing, welcome to the preparation for this chapter—parables are confusing, as in part they are designed to be. The first sub-point is: God’s gift of salvation is just, so don't grumble about God’s undeserved grace. The second sub-point is: God’s gift of salvation is equally gracious, so don’t begrudge God’s unequal generosity.
Here’s my shot at the symbolism. (We’ll come back to those points in a few pages.) This parable has three main characters. The most important character is the master—“the master of the house” (v. 11) also called “the owner of the vineyard” (v. 8). This master, or literally “lord,” not “owner” as in verse 8, represents God the Father. Some think he represents the Lord Jesus. Others think this master’s “foreman” in verse 8 represents Jesus because the foreman calls the laborers for the judgment, to render to each according to his work. I think the foreman is an insignificant detail to the story. He is not a major character. He is not Jesus. Take him out and the plot is still strong. Why do we have to argue about these things? Listen, the lord of the vineyard is the Lord God, our good God (compare 19:17 with the phrase “because I am good” in 20:15 [my translation]). End of discussion.
Then we have two other main characters—the two sets of laborers. Technically there are five sets—those hired in the early morning, those hired the third hour (9 a.m.), those hired the sixth hour (noon), those hired the ninth hour (3 p.m.), and those hired the eleventh hour (5 p.m.). But the way Jesus ends the story focuses on those hired first and those hired last. And as I noted, he especially draws our attention to the first. Notice we hear nothing from the lips of the last and much from the mouths of the first. Verses 10-15 are all about their attitude (begrudging) and their action (grumbling). In the study of parables there is something called “the law of end stress,” which teaches that what is said at the end is most important. That is certainly the case here.
So then, who are “the first” and who are “the last”? “The first” symbolize those who arrive at church before the service starts, and “the last,” well you can guess who they symbolize. You all know who you are. More accurately and seriously, “the last” (I’ll start with them first) symbolize those believers least esteemed in the eyes of the world (and perhaps sometimes even in the eyes of the Ecclesia), but those whom, nevertheless, God views highly due to their humility—certainly humility of heart and service (“whoever would be first among you must be your slave” [20:27]), but also often humility of skill and status.
What then do “the last” look like? Matthew has paraded a lineup of such people before our eyes—most recently, little children; before them, a leper, two blind men, a centurion (“the last” are not necessarily the poor or powerless), a paralytic, a Canaanite woman, and Matthew, the tax collector, to name a few. They are “the last.” “The last” are those picked last in this parable because no one else wants them, no one else thinks they are worth hiring or worth investing in. They are the ignoble, the unskilled, the oldest, the weakest, the likely least productive, and thus the ignored. But the owner of the vineyard (i.e., God) values the “least of these my brothers,” if I can use Jesus terminology from 25:40, as much as he values the first, the “best” of the brethren.
So then “the first” symbolize the opposite of “the last.” “The first” are those believers (they are Brethren as well) who due to their status, wealth, power, talent, beauty, success, fame, or any other trait deemed valuable to the world are much esteemed by the world and often also within the Ecclesia. They are first in the eyes of man, but not necessarily in the eyes of God. That’s my take on “the first” who are “last” (v. 16).
I should mention that some notable and respected scholars would disagree with my take. They would argue that “the first” symbolize the twelve apostles, those literally first to follow Christ, and thus those who might be most tempted to think of themselves as first (as James and John do in 20:21) due to following Jesus first and due to Christ’s prophecy in 19:28 about their sitting on twelve thrones and judging all of Israel. I don’t have that narrow of a categorization. In fact, I think that at the beginning and in the end the Twelve (minus Judas, plus Mathias), if we are to put them in one of the two groupings, best fit with “the last.” These nobodies become somebodies, but I don’t think (other than a bout here and there with pride—we’ve seen that and will see that again) they became “first.” They lived and worked and died as humble servants of Christ. This is why in the eternal kingdom they will sit highest, if it is fair to put it that way.
Let me make sense of a few other details of the drama. The master of the vineyard is God. The laborers of the vineyard are members of the kingdom of heaven (i.e., Brethren). The work of the vineyard then represents Ecclesial work—either more broadly (the specific work the Lord has given you to do) or more specifically gospel work (reaping those people God has saved through the message of his gospel). I lean toward the latter due to the earlier harvest-laborers language in 9:37, 38 (the only other place the two words “laborers” and “harvest” are used together):
Then he said to his disciples, “The harvest is plentiful, but the laborers are few; therefore pray earnestly to the Lord of the harvest to send out laborers into his harvest.”
In that context the vineyard (and the harvest of that vineyard) is Israel (cp. Isaiah 5; Jeremiah 12). But as Matthew’s Gospel progresses, so does the kingdom’s boundaries. In 21:39-41 Jesus’ Parable of the Wicked Tenants ends with the owner of the vineyard casting out the original tenants (i.e., the unbelieving Jews) and seeking to employ new tenants (believing Jews and Gentiles) to pluck the ripe fruit. And then again, the final scene in Matthew is the Great Commission where Jesus teaches that the work of kingdom workers is to make disciples of the nations. Thus, in my view, the harvesting of the vineyard represents Brethren working for the world harvest of other Brethren.
The final detail is the denarius. In Jesus’ day a denarius was simply the amount of money paid to a day laborer for a day’s worth of labor. The denarius here represents the gift of final salvation (the “eternal life” the rich young ruler was wanting in the last tract), or put differently, the eschatological judgment of the just. Notice that the money is given at the end of the day. This fits Old Testament labor laws (Leviticus 19:13; Deuteronomy 24:14. 15), but it also fits New Testament eschatology. Brethren are saved now—the moment we trust in Christ—but we will be saved in the future, on the day of reckoning, when the ransom of Christ’s death (20:28) will be paid out in full to those who believe. So the denarius is the gift of final salvation given for a day’s work—a believer’s lifetime of humble gospel service.
That’s my shot at the symbolism. Now don’t shoot me if I have a detail or two wrong. Jesus gave me no divine interpretation to work with. But that’s intentional. You can actually misunderstand or misinterpret a detail or two and the point of the story still stands. That’s the beauty of this parable. So let’s get back to that point and its two sub-points.
Sub-Point One
The point of this parable is this: God’s gift of salvation is just and generous. The first sub-point is: God’s gift of salvation is just, so don’t grumble about God's undeserved grace. Look again at verses 8-15 (these verses will be the focus of our study because they are the focus of the parable):
And when evening came, the owner of the vineyard said to his foreman, “Call the laborers and pay them their wages, beginning with the last, up to the first.” And when those hired about the eleventh hour came, each of them received a denarius. Now when those hired first came, they thought they would receive more, but each of them also received a denarius. And on receiving it they grumbled at the master of the house, saying, “These last worked only one hour, and you have made them equal to us who have borne the burden of the day and the scorching heat.” But he replied to one of them, “Friend, I am doing you no wrong. Did you not agree with me for a denarius? Take what belongs to you and go. I choose to give to this last worker as I give to you. Am I not allowed to do what I choose with what belongs to me? Or do you begrudge my generosity?”
There are two wrong replies to grace—the attitude of begrudging and the action of grumbling. We’ll deal with the grumbling first. Of course, the word “grumbled” (v. 11) might remind you of Israel’s grumblings in the wilderness. I think Jesus intends for us to make that connection. The point is: don’t be like the exodus generation—saved from slavery, saved from the rule of Pharaoh, saved from the Red Sea, only to die without inheriting the promise. They died because they never got past their grumbling. They were never grateful for grace.
If you look at all the references to grumbling in the Bible, you will realize that to God grumbling is as deadly a sin as adultery or murder. The grumblers’ camp is not a good camp in which to be. That’s why Paul tells Brethren not to grumble (Philippians 2:14), Peter tells Brethren not to grumble (1 Peter 4:9), James tells Brethren not to grumble (James 5:9), and our Lord Jesus, here in this parable in his own way, teaches that same truth. Don’t grumble against God.
But as we see this story unfold the way it does, when Jesus gets to verse 8, we are sympathetic with the grumblers of verses 11, 12. When the last get paid first, we cry, “Injustice,” and when the last get paid the same amount, we cry out again, “Injustice.” The lord of this vineyard has broken the first rule of all economics: the more work, the more pay.
Let’s admit this employer does not model fair labor laws. And he is a bit eccentric and irrational. Who hires someone at quitting time—5:00 o’clock? Who pays the same wages for nearly a day’s difference in work?
Ah, but parables are not designed to teach business ethics or principles. Rather, parables are designed to get us to think (and act). And here we are not to think (although it is natural to think) alongside the first hired, “Hey, that’s not fair.” Rather, as Jesus wants (see the summary stress of v. 16), we are to think, “Wow, when it comes to grace, God’s generosity transcends human conceptions of fairness.” Concerning grace, R. T. France says it this way: “No one receives less than they deserve, but some receive far more.” We undeserving sinners are given more than we deserve. Think of it that way.
According to Scripture, everyone deserves damnation; no one deserves salvation. That’s justice. If you want to appeal for justice, you’ll be putting the noose around your own neck! What then is “unjust” is that some get grace. The lesson here is this: when we emotionally trip over this foundational concept of the Christian message—sinners are saved by grace—we stumble not over God’s injustice (although it seems like that) but rather his generosity. Daniel Doriani expresses this idea in this way:
God's generosity actually takes two forms. He gives gifts we do not deserve and he withholds punishments we do deserve. Sadly, many take God’s generosity for granted, so that “Amazing Grace” has become boring grace. It is boring because we no longer think of ourselves as sinners, or at least not as great sinners.
We should be thankful that God is “not fair”—that is, that he doesn’t give us what we deserve. We should be gushing with gratitude that it is not some lackey but the Lord himself who goes out to give grace, and goes out so often (five times in our text), and goes out even for those whom no one else thinks are worth going out for. Oh, the grace and goodness and love of God! Who is the subject of most of this parable’s sentences? Who’s talking? Who’s acting? Who takes the initiative? Who calls the workers? Who kindly—“friend” (v. 13)—but firmly corrects false perceptions? The owner of the vineyard—God!
The first sub-point is: God’s gift of salvation is just—he will do “whatever is right” (v. 4); he will do “no wrong” (v. 13)—so don’t grumble about God’s undeserved grace. Has not the potter the right to do what he wishes with the clay (Romans 9:21)? Don’t feel wronged or cheated by God if he seemingly gives more grace to others than you would. Don’t be angry or envious if others are loved by God who are not as holy or as hard-working or as long-working as you. Be grateful for being chosen. Be grateful for the opportunity to work. Be grateful for getting paid anything at the end of the day. Don’t grumble.
Sub-Point Two
The first sub-point is: God's gift of salvation is just (o rfair), so don’t grumble about God’s undeserved grace. The second sub-point is: God’s gift of salvation is equally gracious, so don’t begrudge (look upon with disapproval) God’s unequal generosity.
We are still studying verses 8-15, looking at them now from another angle. We have looked at the wrong action of grumbling, and now we turn to the wrong attitude of begrudging—“Or do you begrudge my generosity?” (v. 15b; esv margin, “Is your eye bad because I am good?”). Do you see the play on God is good and you are evil, or thinking evil, or seeing evil? The focus is on the eye, the evil eye. Have you ever given anyone the evil eye? Well, these workers give it to God. They are not seeing him as good or generous. That’s their problem, which is too often our problem. Self-interest, a lack of compassion for others, or a misunderstanding of the nature of grace distorts our clear vision. We see what is good as evil, compassionate as cruel, generous as tightfisted.
God’s gift of salvation is equally gracious (every believer equally gets eternal life), so don’t begrudge God’s unequal generosity (that is, if he wants to give such life to someone who really, really, really doesn’t deserve it). Like that sinful woman who wept at Jesus’ feet, drying them with her hair; like Zacchaeus, the tax collector; like Cornelius, the Roman centurion; like that thief on the cross.
Fill in the blank of the sinner or sinner group you like least. Let me fill in a name for you, and let me know how it makes you feel: Don’t begrudge God’s unequal generosity toward Jeffrey Dahmer.
Most of you know that name and cringe at hearing it. When I did a Google search for him, and typed in J-E-F-F-R the first suggested search was Jeffrey Dahmer. That shows me his popularity has not diminished much. For those of you who don’t know Dahmer, I won’t say much because his deeds were so wicked, it is hard to describe them in any setting. He killed seventeen young men, and he did so in the most gruesome and grotesque ways.
While in prison, however, Dahmer was sent books and tracts on the Christian gospel. Over time he began to meet with a local pastor. Dahmer himself writes about how he came to grips with how he was a sinner and accountable before a holy God. In a television interview with Stone Philips he said, "I’ve... come to believe in the Lord Jesus Christ, and I believe that I, as well as everyone else, will be accountable to him.” In that same interview he called Jesus his “Lord and Savior.” From all accounts—his own, his father’s, the pastor’s—he came to a saving faith in Christ. He believed and was baptized. Jeffrey Dahmer was baptized in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit!
Then, one day after attending chapel, a fellow inmate attacked him. He lived. Soon after, while working in the prison gym, he was attacked again. This time he died. Then what? Did Jeffrey Dahmer—the most horrific human being of my lifetime? Will he get a denarius? He tortured and killed people, lots of people. Sure, he professed faith in Christ, but he died so shortly after, he hardly had a chance to prove himself worthy of the kingdom.
What do you think about sharing an apple from the tree of life with Jeffrey Dahmer in the new heavens and new earth? Does the thought of it make you sick? Does the thought of it shock all spiritual sensibilities? Well, my brothers and sisters, that’s the shock of grace! That’s the shock of the gospel. That’s the shock of this parable, the parable of the shockingly, super-generous Lord.
Don’t begrudge God’s generosity!
Minor Point
We come to the final point, what I’ve labeled a minor point. I label it “minor” because it is of less significance to this parable (not to the New Testament) and because I might be wrong about my observations.
Once after I preached a talk, a visitor came up to me and made a number of nice comments about the talk (which, by the way, I always find better than someone grumbling to me about it). He said, “You preached with great authority.” I do try, by God’s help, to preach with authority when and where such authority is needed and deeply and obviously grounded in the text of our study. But I want you to know that I am not the authority even if I preach and write with great authority. I may preach or write with authority and yet be absolutely unauthorized in my views. I can be saying something strongly that is not strongly said in Scripture or is not said at all. So never take my authoritative interpretations on an equal plane with the absolute authority of God’s Word. That’s why in my Ecclesia we read the Bible aloud before I teach—to make sure my Ecclesia heard something absolutely true.
With that in mind, and with you now likely intrigued about this potentially unauthorized and perhaps unorthodox idea, here is the minor point. I will first say it in a way I feel most fair to the language of the text and then in a second way that is more sensible to our sensibilities. The minor point can be said like this: God’s gift of final salvation is offered to those who receive it and work for it (that’s controversial). Or it can be said like this: God’s grace is not antithetical to kingdom labor and reward (that’s better).
In the 1980s and 1990s a debate raged in the American evangelical church over what has been called the “Lordship Controversy.” One side advocated that salvation is by grace alone in Christ alone through faith alone, and thus a mere profession of faith at some point in one’s life was enough to assure salvation. The other side (the lordship side) held to the traditional Protestant position that salvation is indeed by grace alone in Christ alone through faith alone, but such faith is never alone—it produces fruit. Faith loves. Faith works. Faith obeys. And if such fruit is not found, then the assurance of salvation cannot (should not) be offered. Jesus must be both Savior and Lord.
In the academy, the lordship side won the debate. However, outside the academy—in the pew, so to speak—the lordship side lost. Many of you will have grown up, with this cheap grace version of the gospel. If you just said a prayer, raised your hand, accepted the altar call, came forward at the crusade, the deal was sealed regardless of future attitudes and actions.
Such a heresy—I’ll call it that, and with authority—is deadly. It’s as deadly a heresy as the Jews of Jesus’ day saying the sign of circumcision was enough to guarantee salvation. It’s as deadly a heresy as the churches today that say baptism does the same. Cheap grace is a deadly plague, and sadly many of us have breathed in too much of that poisonous air, and some of us still breathe it in. And this is why when some of us think “grace,” we know there are two rules to the grace game. Rule number one: don’t talk about grace and works in the same sentence. Rule number two: don’t talk about grace and rewards in the next sentence.
But if your mind is saturated with Matthew’s Gospel, the epistle of James, the three epistles of John, the book of Revelation—now that I think of it, the whole of the New Testament—you will see that Jesus and his earliest followers often broke both rules. Too many contemporary evangelicals think “grace” and then think, “Please don’t put ‘works’ and ‘rewards’ in the same room. Don’t even put them in the same zip code.” But here in Jesus’ Sola Gratia sermon, his parable on God's grace alone, he very comfortably snuggles all three in one bed. Grace is in the middle with his arms tightly around works and rewards. And our Lord doesn’t find it scandalous.
Where’s my evidence for such a bold claim? It’s everywhere. First we have the language of grace and work. Jesus calls those in the kingdom of heaven “laborers” (vv. 1, 2, 8; cp. “worker” in v. 14) on earth who “worked” (v. 12). The one thing everyone in this parable does is work, if even for an hour.
Our Lord could have used another analogy. Do you see the word “idle”? It’s used twice (vv. 3, 6). He could have worked the idle analogy (don’t mind the pun). It would go something like this:
In the marketplace, the master found some people standing idling by (doing nothing, not working). And then he approached those people and asked them to work. But they refused (stayed idle). And so he picked them up, brought them to his vineyard, and paid them a full day’s wages.
Such an analogy, as bad as it sounds, would prove that we do nothing to earn God’s grace. But Jesus doesn’t go with the idle analogy. He doesn’t call his disciples “heirs of the rich and famous,” those who need not lift a finger to inherit it all. Rather he calls Brethren manual “laborers,” workers who do specific work—work in the vineyard, harvesting the fruit of the master’s land.
So there is the language of labor. There is also the language of getting paid for one’s labor. I’ve called it “rewards” (because that’s a Jesus term used for it), but you can call it whatever you'd like, just as long as we both agree that these laborers, who are freely and graciously and generously given a job, get paid “their wages” at the end of the day.
We can debate whether there are degrees of rewards in the Kingdom or not (likely not). But we shouldn’t debate the concept of rewards—the bestowing of God’s bounty of an eternal inheritance (Colossians 3:24) in accordance with a covenant. “Rejoice and be glad,” Jesus said in the Beatitudes, “for your reward is great in heaven” (5:12a). What reward? At the very least (and it’s very much) the “reward” of eternal life—“theirs is the kingdom of heaven” (5:3, 10).
What’s the point of this minor point? Why even bring it up? The point is this: whenever Jesus teaches on grace, as exemplified even here, he teaches lordship salvation. You see, his view stands between two erroneous extremes. He does not advocate that God’s grace takes idle people, keeps them idle, and still rewards them with eternal life. And he does not advocate salvation by good works, which is very pharisaical (or Talmudic), or hard work alone, which is very American. Rather, he advocates that no one earns salvation or is owed salvation based on good works or hard work or much work, but those who are chosen by grace are given work to do, do that work, and are rewarded for it.
It might be a minor point here, but it has major implications for the Ecclesia today.
An End note on Einstein
I don’t know if Einstein ever improved his golf swing. And sadly I don’t think that he ever understood God’s grace—the forgiveness of sins offered in and through the person and work of Jesus Christ. But he did once say this statement, in his usual inquisitive and witty way: “I want to know God’s thoughts. The rest are details.” Well, here in 20:1-16, through the teaching of our Lord Jesus, we don’t learn all of God’s thoughts, but we do learn this important “detail” about his grace: God’s gift of salvation is just and generous. So don't grumble. Don’t begrudge. Be grateful for God’s amazing grace.
(R. Kent Hughes. and Douglas Sean O'Donnell., 2013; edited Carl Hinton., 2020)