
“Now take your pay and go home. I want to give this man who was hired last as much as I gave you. Don’t I have the right to do as I wish with my own money? Or are you jealous because I am generous?’” And Jesus concluded, “So those who are last will be first, and those who are first will be last.” (Matthew 20:14-16)
There are some things in life that make us want to stand up and say, “But that’s not fair!”
Even in the teachings of Jesus – the parable of the workers in the vineyard is one of them. Some workers labor all day long. Others arrive at the very end of the day, working only an hour. Yet when it is time to be paid, everyone receives the same amount.
We all learn the “rules of employment” with our first job. More hours of work should mean more pay. Eight hours of work deserves eight hours of pay; one hour deserves one hour. It’s only fair.
But Jesus turns our sense of fairness completely upside down.
In fact, the landowner deliberately pays the workers who arrived last first—making sure those who worked all day can see what is happening. And when they complain, the landowner asks, “Are you jealous because I am generous?”
It’s right there that I find myself thinking, yes, as a matter of fact, I am – it’s just not fair!
How often do we carry that same sense of “That’s not fair!” into our relationships? Someone has disappointed us and we find ourselves unable to let go of the resentment. Somewhere inside, we may think, If I have to suffer because of what they did, they ought to suffer, too.
But the words of Jesus ask something different of us.
Forgive.
That doesn’t mean we excuse harmful actions or ignore injustice.
But it does remind us to leave room for grace.
We are all recipients of grace we did not earn and forgiveness we did not deserve.
One of the reasons forgiveness is so difficult is that we rarely know the whole story. We see what someone has done. We experience how their actions have affected us. But we don’t necessarily see the wounds, circumstances, fears, or experiences that shaped them.
I learned something about this when I was about sixteen or seventeen years old.
My older brother helped coach a softball team, and I occasionally played with them. There was one player on the team who really rubbed me the wrong way. She hadn’t done anything wrong, but I thought she was bossy and negative. And one evening I told my brother exactly what I thought. I even suggested that perhaps he shouldn’t let her play.
Instead of agreeing with me, my brother became quiet. He knew some of her story — things I knew nothing about. Then he said something that has stayed with me for decades: “Before you go judging anyone, learn a little about them. She’s had a lot of pain in her life that you’ve never experienced. Give her a break.” Ouch.
I didn’t know the whole story.
The kingdom of God is not about keeping score. It is about grace.
We rarely know the pain that another person carries—
the wounds beneath their words,
the disappointments behind their choices,
or the quiet prayers they have whispered in the dark.
But God knows.
The grace that unsettles us may be the very mercy holding someone else together.
Amen?