The Arithmetic of Heaven: The Shepherd's Joy Text: Matthew 18:10-14
Introduction: The Value of the Vulnerable
We live in an age that has a profound contempt for the small, the weak, and the dependent. Our culture glorifies the autonomous individual, the self-made man, the one who needs nobody. We celebrate strength, independence, and influence. And consequently, we have built a civilization that is remarkably efficient at disposing of the inconvenient. We see this in our abortion mills, where the smallest and most vulnerable among us are treated as disposable medical waste. We see it in our nursing homes, where the elderly are often warehoused and forgotten. And we see it, tragically, even within the church, where we can become so focused on programs, numbers, and influence that we overlook the very people Jesus tells us to value most highly.
The disciples, in this chapter, were having just such a moment of worldly thinking. They came to Jesus asking, "Who is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven?" They were thinking about status, rank, and who gets the corner office. Jesus answers them by taking a small child and placing him in their midst. He tells them that unless they become like this child, they will not even enter the kingdom, let alone be great in it. The entire orientation of the world is inverted. The way up is down. Greatness is found in humility, dependence, and trust.
Our text today is a direct continuation of this lesson. Jesus moves from the general principle of childlike humility to a specific, stark warning about how we are to treat these "little ones." He is not just talking about literal children, though He certainly includes them. He is talking about any believer who is vulnerable, weak, unnoticed, or prone to wander. He is talking about the new convert, the struggling saint, the one whose faith is fragile. And He gives us three powerful reasons not to despise them: their heavenly representation, their central place in Christ's mission, and the Father's passionate, pursuing love for them.
This passage is a direct assault on all forms of spiritual pride and ecclesiastical pragmatism. It forces us to ask ourselves if our values align with Heaven's values. The world's calculators tell us to cut our losses and focus on the strong ninety-nine. Heaven's arithmetic is entirely different. It tells us that the one lost sheep is of such infinite value that the entire flock is, for a time, left behind in the focused pursuit of the one.
The Text
"See that you do not despise one of these little ones, for I say to you that their angels in heaven continually see the face of My Father who is in heaven. For the Son of Man has come to save that which was lost. What do you think? If any man has one hundred sheep, and one of them has gone astray, does he not leave the ninety-nine on the mountains and go and search for the one that is straying? And if it turns out that he finds it, truly I say to you, he rejoices over it more than over the ninety-nine which have not gone astray. In this way, it is not the will of your Father who is in heaven that one of these little ones perish."
(Matthew 18:10-14 LSB)
Angelic Attendants and Divine Dignity (v. 10)
Jesus begins with a direct command, a prohibition that should arrest our attention.
"See that you do not despise one of these little ones, for I say to you that their angels in heaven continually see the face of My Father who is in heaven." (Matthew 18:10)
The word "despise" means to think little of, to hold in contempt, to consider worthless. It is a sin of the heart, an attitude of pride that dismisses another person as insignificant. Jesus says, "Watch out. Don't you dare do this." And why? Because these little ones, these seemingly insignificant believers, have friends in very high places. Their angels, He says, continually see the face of the Father in heaven.
Now, this has been the source of much speculation about "guardian angels." While the Scriptures do teach that angels are ministering spirits sent to serve believers (Heb. 1:14), this verse is not primarily a detailed blueprint of angelic assignments. The point is not to get us speculating about our personal angelic bodyguard. The point is about the dignity and honor God bestows upon His children. To "see the face" of a king was a phrase that indicated the highest level of access, honor, and intimacy. Only the most trusted advisors and highest-ranking officials had constant access to the monarch's presence.
Jesus is telling us that the angels assigned to care for the humblest believer are not some low-level interns in the angelic hierarchy. They are the highest-ranking angels, the ones who stand in the very throne room of the universe, constantly beholding the glory of God the Father. The logic is devastating to our pride. You look at a struggling, weak, unimpressive Christian and are tempted to dismiss them. But God assigns His highest-ranking courtiers to their care. You despise them, but God honors them with a royal guard. Your assessment and God's assessment are polar opposites. To despise one of these little ones is to show contempt for the Father's own valuation. It is to declare that you know better than God who is important.
The Mission of the Messiah (v. 11)
Jesus then connects the value of these little ones to the very purpose of His incarnation. Though this verse is not in some of the earliest manuscripts, it is entirely consistent with the context and with the rest of Scripture.
"[For the Son of Man has come to save that which was lost.]" (Matthew 18:11)
This is the gospel in miniature. Why did the Son of God condescend to take on human flesh? Why did He endure the shame of the cross? It was not to gather the impressive, the strong, and the self-sufficient. He came for the lost. He came for the failures, the wanderers, the spiritual zeroes. Luke's gospel makes this explicit: "For the Son of Man came to seek and to save the lost" (Luke 19:10).
So, to despise a "little one" who is prone to wander is to despise the very object of Christ's saving mission. It is to stand with the Pharisees and grumble that "This man receives sinners and eats with them" (Luke 15:2). It is to set yourself against the entire flow of redemptive history. When we are tempted to write off a struggling believer, we must remember that this is precisely the kind of person for whom Christ died. Our impulse may be to cut them loose; Christ's impulse was to shed His blood for them. To despise the lost sheep is to despise the work of the Shepherd who came to rescue them.
The Reckless Love of the Shepherd (v. 12-13)
Jesus now drives the point home with a simple, earthy parable that every person in His audience would have understood.
"What do you think? If any man has one hundred sheep, and one of them has gone astray, does he not leave the ninety-nine on the mountains and go and search for the one that is straying? And if it turns out that he finds it, truly I say to you, he rejoices over it more than over the ninety-nine which have not gone astray." (Matthew 18:12-13)
From a purely pragmatic, business standpoint, this is terrible shepherd-craft. You have a ninety-nine percent success rate. You risk the ninety-nine, who could be attacked by predators or wander off themselves, for the sake of the one foolish sheep that got itself lost. No sensible rancher would do this. But God's love is not sensible by the world's standards. It is a reckless, passionate, pursuing love.
The ninety-nine are left "on the mountains." They are not abandoned, but they are secure in the pasture. The shepherd's entire focus, energy, and will are bent toward the rescue of the one. This illustrates the infinite value God places on each individual soul He has chosen. He is not a utilitarian God who is content with a majority. His love is personal and particular.
And notice the emotional climax of the story: the rejoicing. When the sheep is found, the shepherd's joy over that one rescued soul is greater than his settled satisfaction with the ninety-nine who were safe all along. This is not because he loves the ninety-nine less. It is the joy of restoration, the joy of recovery. It is the same joy we see in the father of the prodigal son, who throws a party not because he loves his older son less, but because "this my son was dead, and is alive again; he was lost, and is found" (Luke 15:24). Heaven throws a party over one repenting sinner. This tells us that God's heart is oriented toward rescue and redemption. He is the great Shepherd who seeks, finds, and rejoices.
The Father's Unyielding Will (v. 14)
Jesus concludes by tying the parable directly to the sovereign will of God the Father.
"In this way, it is not the will of your Father who is in heaven that one of these little ones perish." (Matthew 18:14)
This is a glorious statement of the doctrine of the perseverance of the saints. The security of the believer does not rest on the wisdom of the sheep. Sheep are notoriously stupid animals; they are experts at getting lost. Our security does not rest on our ability to hold on to God. It rests entirely on His determination to hold on to us. It is not the Father's will that a single one of His chosen ones should perish. And what the Father wills, the Father gets.
This is a powerful rebuke to Arminian theology, which would have us believe that a sheep can wander out of the flock and be ultimately and finally lost. Jesus says no. The Father's will is the final backstop. The Shepherd's search is effectual. He doesn't just look for the sheep; He finds the sheep. As Jesus says elsewhere, "My sheep hear My voice, and I know them, and they follow Me; and I give eternal life to them, and they will never perish; and no one will snatch them out of My hand. My Father, who has given them to Me, is greater than all; and no one is able to snatch them out of the Father's hand" (John 10:27-29).
Our response to a straying brother or sister, therefore, must be shaped by this reality. We are to be agents of the Shepherd. We are to pursue, to plead, to correct, and to restore, all with the confident knowledge that it is the Father's good pleasure to bring His wandering sheep home. To despise them or to give up on them is to act as though we believe the Father's will can be thwarted. It is to act like practical atheists.
Conclusion: Becoming Undershepherds
This passage fundamentally reorients our perspective on the church and our role within it. The church is not a club for the strong and impressive. It is a hospital for the sick, a fold for wandering sheep. And we are all, in some measure, both the ninety-nine and the one.
We are the ninety-nine in that we are secure in the Father's hand, kept by His sovereign will. We have a responsibility to look out for those who are straying. We are not to be like the elder brother, grumbling about the attention given to the prodigal. We are to join the Father's party, to rejoice when a wanderer is brought home. We must cultivate the heart of the Shepherd, valuing what He values, loving whom He loves.
And we are, each one of us, the one lost sheep. We were all lost. We were all wandering in the darkness, helpless and hopeless. And the Good Shepherd left the glories of heaven, came to this dark mountain, and sought us out. He found us in our sin and rebellion, and He did not just point the way home. He joyfully laid us on His shoulders and carried us. The cross was the place where the Shepherd laid down His life for the sheep.
Therefore, let us never despise the little ones. Let us never look down on the struggling, the weak, or the wandering. For in their faces, we see a reflection of ourselves apart from grace. And in their rescue, we see the very heart of our God, the Father who wills our salvation, the Son who accomplishes it, and the Spirit who secures it. Let us be a church that reflects the arithmetic of heaven, where every single soul is of infinite worth, and where the greatest joy is found in the recovery of the lost.