Luke 5:27-39 "Follow Me For More Party Tips"

We get an invitation to a birthday party. Some of us get excited, put it on the calendar—it’s going to be so much fun! Some of us pretend we never saw it. You’re invited to a wedding, a graduation party, a small get-together at so and so’s house with a few friends. Are you delighted? Or horrified?

The world is neatly divided between two kinds of people: those who like to party, and those who would rather stay home and watch that nine-hour Beatles documentary—again. Or maybe watch YouTube videos on how to organize a sock drawer. Maybe take a nap. Anything other than go to a party. 

Sounds like I’m saying people who avoid parties are boring—that’s not really it.

It’s no mystery why the people who love parties love parties. Food, drinks, friends, laughter. What’s not to love?

I’m more of the second kind of person. Not because I’m really into documentaries or sock drawers, more because I just usually don’t want to go. People say, “Come on, Frank, come to the party, it’ll be fun.” Which I understand is the basic idea but what they don’t know is I don’t like fun.

Which isn’t really true. It’s just that what other people seem to think is fun is usually annoying and painful to me. Too loud, too chaotic, too smoky, too many red cup-inspired bad ideas—too many people getting obnoxious and uninhibited. Too much small talk. I don’t really know how to relax at a party. There’s always someone who wants to argue about politics or religion or just ramble on about how everything reminds them of something about their work, their kids, their medical problems. They’d be just as happy talking to a cardboard cutout. And some people think parties are the perfect time to change the world. They have all the answers—everyone who doesn’t see things the way they see them is an idiot.

So you would think I’m just antisocial and hate people—but that’s not true either.

Because my favorite thing in the world is to be with people who know how to have a conversation, know how to laugh, like to drink good beer and good whiskey and good wine—just enough to stir up some joy, not enough to stir up trouble. There’s nothing better than lively conversation in a room filled with love and respect. People who know how to both talk and listen without making it all about themselves. That’s what fun looks like to me. That’s what heaven looks like to me.

When we’re young, we all love the idea of parties. But as we get older, and actually go to them with actual people—it can be pretty disappointing. We feel left out, get our feelings hurt, get into arguments, get mad, or feel intimidated, or just get cornered by someone who doesn’t know how to read the room—we end up feeling awkward and wish we’d just stayed home. Then we find ourselves only wanting to go to a party if we think we’ll know the people who’ll be there, people we’re comfortable with. Most of us end up in one of the two groups—those who still like the idea of parties or those who try to avoid them whenever possible. It’s completely understandable.

But today I’m going to challenge all of us to look at this through the lens of following Jesus. Challenge us to get out of our comfort zones. What would it look like to be the person Jesus called you to be, rather than the person you’ve always been—to get outside that safe little box you’ve created for yourself. To think of parties as mostly being for other people and not just yourself.

Let’s pray as we get started: Father in heaven, show us what it looks like to follow Jesus for real—here in modern-day Katy, Texas. What do you want to challenge us to do in response to the Scripture we are about to hear? What comfort do you have for all us selfish sinners? AMEN

Luke 5:27:

After this, Jesus went out and saw a tax collector by the name of Levi sitting at his tax booth. “Follow me,” Jesus said to him, and Levi got up, left everything and followed him. Luke 5:27-28

This is after the incident with the paralyzed man and the roof—right after the group of Pharisees and Scribes from all over the country showed up to trap Jesus. They’re still watching His every move, waiting for Him to do something wrong.

Jesus sees a Jewish man sitting in a Roman tax booth. They’re near the port, so this would have been a really busy location. Tax collectors exploited people by charging more than the Romans required—they got rich doing this—and they were hated for it. Considered traders to Israel and God. The lowest kind of scum. Thieves. Outcasts. We might think of them as American citizens who join an Islamic terrorist cell, or at least like the people who fund them. 

Nobody expected The Messiah, the person who was going to free Israel from the oppressive Roman government, to have anything to do with these treasonous, greedy scumbags.

But nobody was ever able to guess what Jesus was going to do next.

He walks up to the guy in cahoots with the enemy and says, “Follow me.” 

In Greek, it literally says, “Be following me.” This is a permanent calling. “From now on, you are to be following me.”

Luke calls him Levi. We know him as Matthew. This little weasel is going to be the guy who writes the first Gospel. This trader to Jewish people is going to be the guy who writes the definitive book to reach Hebrews with the message of Jesus. This guy who made a comfortable life rubbing elbows with Romans is the one who persuades Jews to take the mission of Jesus to the Gentiles. Do you see how wonderfully ironic and strategic this is?

It’s probably not the first time Jesus and Matthew have met. Most likely there have been previous conversations that Luke doesn’t tell us about. Especially since his tax booth seems pretty close to the house where Jesus and His family lived. I imagine Jesus going by the booth and striking up conversations before this—planting seeds. 

All we’re told is Matthew got up, left everything, and followed Him. It was no small sacrifice, as we’re about to find out—Matthew was making bank.

Then Levi held a great banquet for Jesus at his house, and a large crowd of tax collectors and others were eating with them. Luke 5:29

Great banquet. Large crowd. Matthew’s house could have been on Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous or MTV Cribs. He throws a big party in honor of his new rabbi and vocation. He invites all his sleazy, slimy, riffraff friends. This would be one of those parties I would try to avoid. Wrong kind of people. Wrong political party. Wrong religion. Bad people with bad ideas. No thank you—I’ll stay home with my documentaries and sock drawer.

Disciples probably felt the same way. Jesus dragged Peter and John and all His boys with Him. I’m sure they didn’t want to go either. Eat at a tax collector’s house? Gross. What if they put bacon in the chip dip?

They weren’t the only ones who felt that way. Verse 30:

But the Pharisees and the teachers of the law who belonged to their sect complained to his disciples, “Why do you eat and drink with tax collectors and sinners?” Luke 5:30

The devil’s minions. Spying on Jesus. Lurking outside the party—they wouldn’t have dared to go inside, even if they were invited, which they certainly were not. They just hang around outside talking smack about Jesus. They don’t approach Him directly, they complain to the disciples instead.

But Jesus sees them attacking His friends and runs over to rescue them—probably because He knew the disciples wouldn’t know what to say. 

When I was on the road with Atomic Opera, we had a plan for dealing with “grippers.” Grippers were people who would trap you after the show and corner you while they went on and on, standing too close, breathing in your face, talking your ear off—you don’t want to be rude but you can’t get away. We’d make eye contact with a band member and they’d come over and say, “Hey, sorry to interrupt but the manager needs to see you in his office.”

He comes over and rescues the disciples from the grippers, verse 31:

Jesus answered them, “It is not the healthy who need a doctor, but the sick. I have not come to call the righteous, but sinners to repentance.” Luke 5:31-32

The religious leaders were basically saying the people at this party were sickos. Unclean. If you’re a man of God, how can you associate with sinners like this? And Jesus says, “You’re right, they are sinners. They’re sick with sin. But I’m here to make them healthy. Call them to repentance—away from their sin, call them back to God’s kindness and righteousness.” He lets the Pharisees continue in the delusion that they’re not also sinners, that they don’t need to repent. 

They’re so full of themselves. So self-righteous. In their pride, they were completely unable to see their own need for Jesus. They thought they were better than common sinners. I pray that we’re not like that. That we would never be so convinced of how right we are—how justified we are in what we think— that we can’t hear the voice of Jesus calling us to repentance. 

Then they bring up more things about Jesus and His followers they don’t like. Verse 33:

They said to him, “John’s disciples often fast and pray, and so do the disciples of the Pharisees, but yours go on eating and drinking.” Luke 5:33

Jesus was accused of being a glutton and a drunk—a winebibber. Someone who partied too much. They didn’t think it was a good look for a holy man.

God’s law only required people to fast once a year, for the Day of Atonement, but this must have happened during one of the fast days the Pharisees had built into their extra-credit religious system. They probably thought all good little Jews were supposed to be fasting that day, and here’s Jesus with all His misguided followers eating and drinking at some house of debauchery. They’re like, “Even the disciples of John the Baptist keep our fasting days. What’s wrong with you people?” Verse 34:

Jesus answered, “Can you make the friends of the bridegroom fast while he is with them? But the time will come when the bridegroom will be taken from them; in those days they will fast.” Luke 5:34-35

We’re still talking about parties. Weddings were the biggest parties of all—they still are—but their weddings lasted for days. They probably don’t understand why Jesus is comparing a nasty dinner party with tax collectors to a wedding but they would have understood the idea that no one is expected to fast during a wedding reception. 

They should have understood though. God compared His relationship with His people to being married to an unfaithful wife throughout the Old Testament. The Messiah was going to reestablish the marriage covenant with His people—who would be His new bride, made clean, dressed in white, forgiven and made pure. Isaiah talked about a great wedding feast when the Messiah comes. They should have understood what He was saying:

Jesus is the Messiah, He’s the groom, and while He’s here, it’s party time. 

Then He makes a reference to His death—when He will be taken from them—there will be plenty of time for fasting then. Whether He’s only talking about the three days of darkness between the cross and the resurrection, or also talking about the entire time between the ascension and the second coming is hard to say for sure. He’s definitely saying that while He was here was not the time to fast.

We’re in the season of Lent right now—this is a time for fasting—but this passage also explains why we don’t fast on Sundays. Every Sunday is a feast day. A day like the party at Matthew’s house. A day for eating and drinking with sinners because Jesus is with us. 

Then we come to the first two parables in the Gospel of Luke. A parable is a story that uses something ordinary in the world to teach spiritual truths about the Kingdom of God. Jesus said He taught using parables so that only people who “had ears to hear” would understand what He was saying. Some people would get it and some people wouldn’t—if you get it, then you were enlightened by the Holy Spirit and one of His disciples, if you don’t then at least you’re entertained by a nice little story. The deeper meaning, the truth, is a gift. 

Verse 36:

He told them this parable: “No one tears a piece out of a new garment to patch an old one. Otherwise, they will have torn the new garment, and the patch from the new will not match the old. Luke 5:36

The Pharisees complained about Jesus and His followers eating and drinking with sinners. They not only hang out with the wrong people but they eat too much and drink too much. It looks bad. They’re ruining their witness. As if just being around sinners is contagious. They’re going to end up becoming worldly and unclean. Bad company corrupts good morals. It’s just not the way good Jewish people act.

Jesus tells them they’re missing the point of His mission—of what the Messiah came to do. He came to call sinners to repentance, not hide in the synagogues and look down on outsiders from the lofty walls of the Temple. It’s a new day. He’s doing something completely new. It’s a New Testament. A new way.

So, the new garment is the New Testament that Jesus brings to the world. The Pharisees don’t understand. They want to just cut a little Messiah patch and slap it on the Old Testament. Keep everything the way it’s always been but install the Messiah as King and get rid of the Romans. Just patch the hole. 

Jesus says that’s not going to work any better than patching an old shirt with cloth cut from a new shirt. It would ruin the new shirt and it wouldn’t match the old one. Not only would the color not match—nothing would match. The old material is worn out and the new material hasn’t shrunk from washing, it would just wrinkle up and tear again.

But since we’re talking about parties, let’s talk about wine—He has another parable with the same point:

And no one pours new wine into old wineskins. Otherwise, the new wine will burst the skins; the wine will run out and the wineskins will be ruined. No, new wine must be poured into new wineskins. And no one after drinking old wine wants the new, for they say, ‘The old is better.’”

They used goatskins to store wine. Fresh new wine would be poured into a newly made wineskin—as it fermented and aged, it would expand and the new skin would stretch with it. But, if you poured new wine into an old skin, it would just crack open and you’d ruin both the wine and the wineskin.

When Jesus comes into your life, He makes everything new. You’re supposed to drop everything and follow Him. Some people try to just add a little Jesus to their old life—all that’s going to do is ruin both your old life and your new one.

So far, the parable has the same point as the one about patching the garment. The new and the old are both ruined if you mix them. But Jesus has two punchlines for this one. 

Everyone knows well-aged wine is better than the cheap new stuff. In the same way, everyone prefers the way things have always been. The good old days. No one likes change unless it’s their idea. No one after drinking an expensive vintage wine would ever say, “you know what sounds good? I want some of that fresh Boone’s Farm.” If they know anything about wine, they would say, with confidence, “Old wine is better than new wine.”

The disciples were standing around listening to this conversation. Jesus might have winked at them when He said this. They might have smiled—remembering another party from not too long ago. A wedding party when the host ran out of wine—they ran out of the old wine. The good stuff. And Jesus conjured up some new wine using a bunch of bathwater. 

When they served it, only the disciples knew where it came from, everyone else thought it was the best wine they had ever tasted. 

People think they know things. You might think you prefer the old wine—that just means you haven’t tried Jesus’ new wine. If you know you know. For those who have ears to hear—or tongues to taste. 

This week Jesus showed up as Partyman and freaked everyone out. The disciples were dragged to a party they probably didn’t want to go—where they wouldn’t know anyone, and when they went outside to get away from all the red solo cups and strange people, they got yelled at by a bunch of party poopers. 

How do you feel about parties? Most people would probably say it depends. If they know some of the people who’ll be there, or if they have a couple of people they can kind of hang with and feel comfortable with—then it might be okay. Probably want to take their own car so they can leave when they want, though. 

I was at a big party one time and a bunch of people from the church were there—but there were also a ton of people none of us knew. All us church people were congregating in the garage sampling microbrews. A couple hours into it, I said, “Okay, here’s what we’re going to do: Everyone go into the house and the backyard and start a conversation with a stranger, someone you don’t know. Then come back here in 30 minutes or so and we’ll swap stories. Talk about who we met. Most of us did it. What happened was amazing. When we came back, several of our new friends, the “strangers,” came back with us. We all had interesting stories. Our new friends had stories, too.

That little party adventure is a picture of what this ministry is all about.

The vision for NewChurch, since day one, has been to be a place to eat and drink with sinners. To find or build a place that can be a restaurant/pub all week and then also be the place we worship on Sunday mornings. Basically, a place to throw parties. A place to hang out and make connections with people over food and drinks—a place to share stories—with each other and with strangers. Especially stories about Jesus in our life.

He did a lot of His ministry at parties. It’s obvious that the most important thing about these parties to Him was the conversation and connections He made with the people who were there. Especially the ones who didn’t know Him yet. 

I love everything about this: Jesus sees a guy named Levi who had sold his soul to the Roman devils, He says “follow me—from now on.” Then instead of making Matthew deal with immediately being surrounded by Peter, James, John, and all the good little Jewish boys (who would have really struggled with accepting a tax collector into their group—especially Simon the Zealot. Zealots went around killing people like tax collectors) that would have probably freaked Matthew out—instead, Jesus drags all His disciples to Mathew’s house and surrounds them with a whole bunch of dirty rotten scoundrels. It’s a pretty funny twist. It’s exactly the kind of thing Jesus does. We’re never going to guess His next move.

He offers healing to the sick. Forgiveness to the sinner. He calls the sinners to repentance. He tells stories that closed-minded religious people won’t understand. 

He says, “I have some new wine, you probably think you wouldn’t like it since you’re convinced you prefer the old.”

He says, “I have a new garment for you to wear. Just put it on. Don’t try to patch up your old one. You need to let the old one go.”

He says, “Follow me. Let’s throw some parties and invite all the wrong people—people like you.”

And He says, “Don’t make it about you—your insecurities, your comfort level, your preferences—make it about inviting sinners to repentance, make it about inviting them to get to know me.”

Jesus says, “Follow me for more party tips.” AMEN