Faith Sits at the Table

This is the sermon for October 5, 2025 based on Luke 17:5-10.

Luther’s Explanation of Faith

This week I was working with a study about Martin Luther—the great justification by faith alone reformer. What caught my attention was how deeply he wrestled with what we could call the “mathematics of faith.” As he read the Bible, especially Paul’s letter to the Romans, Luther realized that the way faith had been taught in the Church was not faithful to Scripture. He began to rethink the entire equation.

Up to that point, the Church had taught a formula that looked like this:

Faith + Works = Salvation.

This understanding is still around today, and some of us may recognize it. But Luther worried that Christians might believe they could earn salvation by their own efforts. He called this works righteousness. In his time, people were often told that paying money or performing acts of penance could contribute to their salvation. Yet in Scripture, Luther discovered that Christ’s grace is sufficient on its own. Salvation is a gift of God’s grace, received through faith. By insisting on sola fide—faith alone—Luther was protecting the central truth of the gospel: salvation is not Christ plus human merit; it is Christ alone.

So, Luther offered a different formula:

Faith = Salvation + Works.

In other words, we are justified by faith—we are saved by faith alone—but that faith naturally leads to good works. If it does not, it is not genuine faith. Luther once said (in more contemporary terms), “Good works do not make a person good; but a good person does good works.” By “good person,” he meant a Christian made righteous by God’s grace. We are not saved by good works, but once we are saved—justified by faith—we are moved to do them. Faith is not something we earn or achieve. Faith itself is a gift of God.

A Mustard Seed Faith

Biblical scholar Margit Ernst-Habib writes about the difficulty of the passage we just read. She identifies two main tensions within it.

The first is that Jesus seems to describe a kind of faith that feels unrealistic. After all, he says that even a tiny amount of faith—a mustard seed—can uproot a tree and plant it in the sea. That raises a troubling question: If we don’t see such miracles, does that mean our faith is inadequate?

The second tension lies in the language of worthlessness and slavery. Jesus seems to compare the disciples to “worthless slaves” who should not expect thanks for doing their duty. For modern women, this echoes painful histories of being told to serve silently without recognition. For societies still scarred by the legacy of slavery, the language carries dehumanizing and dangerous overtones.

Ernst-Habib proposes that we address these tensions by shifting the focus of faith away from ourselves and onto Christ.

First, we must understand—as Luther did—that faith is not our possession or our achievement. If faith is something we claim as “ours,” this passage can become oppressive. We might think, I don’t have enough faith, so nothing miraculous happens, or I must accept being worthless.

Second, we must recognize that faith is God’s gift. When the disciples ask Jesus to increase their faith, they are already confessing that faith is something only God can give. As Ernst-Habib puts it, “The growth of faith is not the result of a ten-steps-to-a-greater-faith program.” Faith is not earned through effort; it is granted by grace. She goes on to say, “The true miracle in Jesus’ saying is not about overcoming natural laws, but about the presence of true faith—a faith that takes hold of the God with whom nothing is impossible,” echoing Luke’s words at the beginning of his Gospel.”

Third, faith means trusting Christ, not evaluating ourselves. The miracle Jesus describes is not about supernatural feats, but about genuine, Spirit-given trust. Even faith the size of a mustard seed is enough, because what matters is not its size but its object—Christ himself. This reframes the parable: disciples are not called to look inward at their weakness or their “worth,” but outward to Christ, whose power is sufficient.

Interpreted this way, Ernst-Habib shows that the passage is not about self-deprecation or impossible demands. Instead, faith is about freedom from self-focus. Our worth and our salvation do not come from our strength, our works, or our adequacy, but from God’s gracious gift of faith in Christ. The true miracle, then, is that the Holy Spirit binds us to Christ in trust—no matter how small that trust may feel.

Come to the Table

As we have shared before, we practice an open table in this church. A Presbyterian resource called Invitation to Christ: A Guide to Sacramental Practices speaks clearly about the open and welcoming nature of the Lord’s Table.

This openness is important for several reasons. First, the Table does not belong to us—it belongs to Christ. It is not a Presbyterian table; it is the table of Jesus Christ. All who come in faith—the faith that is itself a gift—are welcome to share in the meal: baptized or not, members or not.

The document also reminds us that the invitation from this Table is an invitation to ongoing discipleship. The openness of the Table is not casual or permissive; it is Christ’s call to transformation and belonging. The sacrament is both a gift and a calling—those who come are invited to live as disciples in the world, nourished and sent by Christ. And this is something important to remember on World Communion Sunday!

Remember Luther’s formula: Faith = Salvation + Works? At this table we celebrate grace, and we respond with gratitude.

In our communion liturgy we always begin with an invitation. We use different words every time, but there’s always a welcome. I found a beautiful example on a resource from UKirk, our program for collegiate ministries in the Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.). I’m not using it today during communion, but I want to share it as a reflection for us:

Friends, in the fullness of who you are,

you are welcome here.

Whether this is your first time here or you come every week,

you are welcome here.

Whether everything on this table looks familiar or you have no idea what is happening,

you are welcome here.

Whether your faith feels strong and steady, or uncertain, or even absent,

you are welcome here.

In the fullness of who you are, come to this table—

embraced by welcome.

That is God’s grace. That is Christ our host. Come and take your place at the Table, because this moment is not about who you are, your status, your gender, or where you come from.

This is not our table.

This is not our faith.

It is Christ’s table. It is Christ’s faith.

Faith Montage

The book we are reading in Bible Study is titled Everything Good About God Is True: Choosing Faith by Bruce Reyes-Chow. In it, he speaks about claiming what we believe. He uses the phrase “faith montage” to describe how faith develops—not as a single, pure, or linear story, but as a composite: a collage of experiences, relationships, doubts, practices, and insights that together form the life of faith.

In this view, faith is not an achievement to complete, a consistent process to master, or an unchanging solid rock to possess. In today’s gospel, Jesus challenges that very assumption. Faith is not something we can measure or accumulate, and it is not meant to make us feel powerful or exceptional. Instead, faith—even faith the size of a mustard seed—is sufficient when it is rooted in humility and service. It’s not about having more faith; it’s about trusting enough to act, even in small ways.

As Bruce might say, Christ’s faith in us is layered—built from moments of joy, struggle, grace, confusion, and renewal. Christ’s faith in us is communal, formed through encounters with others. Christ’s faith in us is dynamic, constantly unfolding as we experience God’s continuing revelation in every scene of our lives.

Every act of mercy, every time we serve without thanks, every moment we keep trusting—these become the scenes in the montage of our faith. And even the smallest frame—the mustard seed—can tell the whole story of God’s grace.

So, as faith sits with us at the Table, and as we still cry out, “Increase our faith,” know this: faith is sufficient, and you are sufficient. In our doubts and fears, faith endures—because God’s love and Christ’s faithfulness are everlasting.

Amen.