The Call to Holy Shrewdness - Luke 16:1-13 (Pentecost 15, September 21, 2025)

 

Today’s gospel is one of the strangest parables Jesus ever told. A dishonest manager, caught squandering his master’s possessions, faces dismissal. He panics—too weak to dig, too proud to beg. And so he schemes. He calls in his master’s debtors and reduces their bills, hoping they will owe him favors later.

And then comes the shocking part: the master commends him—not for cheating, but for being shrewd. And Jesus adds this piercing line: “The children of this world are more shrewd in dealing with their own generation than are the children of light.”

 

At first, it feels all wrong. Why would Jesus tell us to learn from a scoundrel? But His point is clear: the world is clever in pursuing its own interests. Shouldn’t the children of God be at least as wise, as discerning, and as purposeful in pursuing the things of God?

 

The World’s Shrewdness
Think about how shrewd the world can be. Look around our society. Political leaders, advertisers, media voices—they know how to work human hearts. They study our habits. They appeal to our fears. They divide us and profit from the division.

 

In today’s America, we know this all too well. Our politics have become an industry of outrage. Every day, we are urged to take sides, to distrust our neighbors, to see one another not as fellow citizens, but as enemies. And many Christians—let’s be honest—get pulled right into the machinery. We give our loyalty to parties, to platforms, to personalities, as though the kingdom of God depended on them.

 

The children of this world are very shrewd about their interests. They know how to keep us hooked. And Jesus says: shouldn’t the children of light be just as wise about the things of the kingdom?

 

Naming the Tragedy
And I cannot stand here today without naming what many of us are carrying in our hearts: the shocking assassination of a young evangelical Christian leader just 12 days ago. He was outspoken in his faith, and he was outspoken in his politics. Many admired him deeply; others found his words sharp, even wounding.

 

I will tell you honestly, thirty years ago I was not much different than he was. I, too, could be polemical and provocative, eager to draw hard lines in defense of the gospel as I understood it. So, when I think of him, I think not only of his words, but of a young man striving—stridently, sometimes controversially—to be faithful. And now his life has been cut short, and he leaves behind a wife and young family. That alone is tragedy enough.

 

But what grieves me just as much is what has followed. Already his death is being used as a weapon in our divided political life. One side claims, “This proves the other is hateful.” The other side says, “No, this proves you are dangerous.” Friends, that is the way of the world—the way of those who are shrewd in defending their own interests. But Jesus calls us to a different kind of wisdom.

 

Jesus calls us to be wise enough to reject the exploitation of our fears and prejudices for political gain. Jesus calls us to compassion, the kind of compassion that even bids us to pray for those we perceive to be our enemies—because our true calling is to bear witness to a kingdom where swords are beaten into plowshares, where life—not death—has the final word.

 

A Higher Loyalty
Jesus presses this point further when he calls us to a higher loyalty: “No one can serve two masters. You cannot serve God and mammon” (to use the King James language here). We might say it this way today: you cannot serve both God and ideology. You cannot pledge your deepest loyalty both to Christ and to the political tribes of this world.

 

Does that mean faith has nothing to say about politics? Of course not. The prophets of Israel spoke boldly to kings, and Jesus Himself confronted powers and principalities. But our allegiance is always first to God’s reign, not to human factions. The kingdom of God is not Republican or Democrat. It is not left or right. It is above. It calls us higher, beyond the talking points and the divides.

 

Holy Shrewdness
So what does Jesus want from us? A holy shrewdness. Not dishonesty, not manipulation—but a wisdom and resourcefulness that takes the kingdom of God as seriously as the world takes its own interests.

 

That means learning to discern when we are being manipulated by fear. It means refusing to let anger or suspicion dictate our choices. It means using our resources—our money, our time, our voices—to build communities of mercy, justice, and reconciliation, instead of feeding the fires of division.

 

The dishonest manager made plans to secure his future. Jesus asks: are we making plans for the kingdom? Are we as purposeful about investing in God’s future as the world is about preserving its own?

 

Living It Out
So when you hear rhetoric that stirs up fear or hatred toward others—holy shrewdness says: wait a minute, this is not the voice of Christ.

 

When you’re tempted to believe that your vote, your party, or your side is the only hope for the future, holy shrewdness says: remember, our hope is in the Lord, who made heaven and earth.

 

When you feel despair at the divisions tearing our country apart, holy shrewdness reminds you: the kingdom of God is not shaken by human conflict. It endures forever.

 

And when you wonder how to live faithfully in such a time, holy shrewdness points you toward small, concrete acts of love: feeding the hungry, welcoming the stranger, visiting the lonely, listening with compassion, speaking truth without venom. These things may not trend on social media, but they are the currency of the kingdom.

 

Conclusion: Choosing Our Master
Jesus ends the parable with a stark choice: “You cannot serve God and mammon.” Today, we might hear Him say: you cannot serve God and the politics of fear. You cannot serve God and the idols of ideology. You cannot serve two masters.

 

So the question comes to us: whom will we serve?