Dig Deeper into Sunday’s Gospel: Read Luke 17:5–10

Paper in one hand, rosary in the other, I was prepared to face Jesus in the sacrament of Penance. When the green light flashed on, I walked in, fell to my knees, asked for forgiveness, then began to list my sins: “I gossiped four times. I had critical thoughts six times. I was prideful one time.” The priest interrupted: “Just one time?” 

Hi, humility. Thanks for showing up.

We, masters of self-deception, tend to think we are better than we are. Praise God for the practice of a daily examen, which has done wonders for my self-awareness. All these years, I have been walking around feeling pretty darn good about all the good I do. As it turns out, I’m not nearly as great as I thought I was, nor am I deserving of—well—anything. And guess what? Neither are you. Now, before you whip out your deck of affirmation cards, let’s take a look at the Gospel of Luke 17:7–10, and see what Scripture has to say about what we do and don’t deserve.

"Will any one of you, who has a servant plowing or keeping sheep, say to him when he has come in from the field, ‘Come at once and sit down at table’? Will he not rather say to him, 'Prepare supper for me, and put on your apron and serve me, till I eat and drink; and afterward you shall eat and drink'? Does he thank the servant because he did what was commanded? So you also, when you have done all that is commanded you say, ‘We are unworthy servants; we have only done what was our duty.’"

We are unworthy servants. How does that verse land on you? I will be honest, I had to really dig into this to understand, because at first glance, it appeared to contradict everything I know about who I am in relation to God: beloved daughter and heir (Galatians 4:7), His handiwork (Ephesians 2:10), fearfully and wonderfully made (Psalm 139:14), made in His image (Genesis 1:27), precious and redeemed (Isaiah 43:1), a sinner worth dying for (Romans 5:8). These speak the truth of who we are, so let me ask: How can we be all of these, yet unprofitable? How can we be both daughters of the King and unworthy servants?

The trip up is due to our misunderstanding and misinterpretation of the word “unworthy.” We hear it, and subconsciously think “worthless.” But “unworthy” and “worthless” are not the same thing. To be unworthy means we are not deserving of something, whereas worthlessness says we have no value. Sadly, broken and wounded that we are, we don’t need convincing of our worthlessness. How many of us live out of this lie most days? And yet, we can be certain that worthless is not how Jesus describes us, by taking a quick flip of the pages back to chapter twelve: “Are not five sparrows sold for two pennies? And not one of them is forgotten before God. Why, even the hairs of your head are all numbered. Fear not; you are of more value than many sparrows” (Luke 12:6–7).

Our value is not the issue. God made us, and He doesn’t make cheap imitations. He meticulously handcrafts us. We are authentic and original masterpieces. And pay attention now, because this right here is the point: the same God who made heaven and earth, who created everything out of nothing, made us. We are His creation, and every good thing we have and do is credited to Him—the Creator of all things. “All things were made through him, and without him was not anything made” (John 1:3). Yes, of course, we have value, but God gets the credit. “Not to us, O Lord, not to us, but to your name give glory” (Psalm 115:1) sings the psalmist. 

Need more convincing? Go on and flip your pages to the back of your Bible and find Revelation 4:11: “Worthy are you, our Lord and our God, to receive glory and honor and power; for you created all things, and because of your will they existed, and were created.”

Worthy are YOU.
Not worthy are WE.

It would do our souls some good if we marinated our inflated egos and disordered self-love in this truth, putting credit where credit is due.

In a world that feels like it's constantly shifting beneath our feet, we can cement our shoes to this reality: God is worthy of praise, not us. Try as we may to “earn His love” and make up for the stupid things we have done, it will be to no avail. Try as we may to do grand things for God, all in the hopes of receiving a gold star for good behavior, the credit will always belong to God.  

I wonder if our straying so far from the narrow has resulted in this ungodly striving; this desperate grasping and needing to perform our way back into the fold, as if God’s love is not freely lavished upon us, but something to be earned. If so, let’s receive this gospel passage as a personal invitation to quit seeking a reward for doing what we are expected to do: to throw our pride into the pit of hell where it belongs, hop off of our self-made thrones, and accept our unworthiness. 

None of us is capable of paying our debts to God, but we are capable of gratitude: “a sincere gratitude that flourishes only in a heart that is humble, convinced of its own poverty, and thoroughly aware that it is nothing and can do nothing without continual help from God.”[1] We are unworthy servants, not because we are worthless, but because we are utterly dependent on God for everything. Only when we embrace our poverty does our misery meet His mercy, and we see ourselves for who we really are, and God for who He truly is. It is here, in this place of humility, that our hearts burst with gratitude and our mouths fill with praise, and we can say, “We are unworthy servants; we have only done what was our duty” (Luke 17:10).

Food for thought or journaling ...

Have you ever taken credit for something that was given to you by God? How often do you thank God for what He has given you?

God, Creator of all things, we thank You, we praise You, and we glorify You. Forgive us for the times we claimed the glory for ourselves, forgetting that we are utterly reliant on You for everything. Give us, Your unworthy servants, grateful hearts, and keep us humble, so that we may sing Your praises forever. Amen.

[1] Father Gabriel of Saint Mary Magdalen, Divine Intimacy (Baronius Press, MMXXII), 823.