The Faith That Makes God Marvel Text: Luke 7:1-10
Introduction: Two Kinds of Religion
We come now from the mountain to the city. Jesus has just finished laying out the constitution of His kingdom in the Sermon on the Plain, a sermon that turns the world's values completely upside down. He has described the character of His citizens, blessed the poor and hungry, and warned the rich and full. He has commanded a radical ethic of enemy-love and non-retaliation. And now, having laid out the theory, He comes down to Capernaum to put it into practice. Doctrine is never left hanging in the air; it always walks on the ground.
And the very first thing He encounters is a test case that cuts to the very heart of the gospel. This story is not primarily about a physical healing, though that certainly happens. This story is about the nature of true faith. It sets before us two competing religions, two fundamentally different ways of approaching God. The first is the default religion of all mankind, the religion of merit and transaction. The second is the religion of the gospel, the religion of grace and authority. One is represented by the respectable Jewish elders, and the other by a pagan, Gentile, occupying soldier. And the one who understands the gospel is not the one you would expect.
This passage is designed to rattle our assumptions. It is a bucket of cold water thrown on all forms of religious pride and ethnic presumption. It shows us what kind of faith pleases God, what kind of faith astonishes Him. And it forces us to ask ourselves which religion we are actually practicing. Are we coming to God with our resume in hand, pointing to all the reasons we are worthy? Or are we coming to Him with empty hands, recognizing our complete unworthiness, and trusting in His authoritative word alone?
The Text
When He had completed all His words in the hearing of the people, He went to Capernaum. And a centurion’s slave, who was highly regarded by him, was sick and about to die. Now when he heard about Jesus, he sent some Jewish elders asking Him to come and save the life of his slave. And when they came to Jesus, they were earnestly pleading with Him, saying, “He is worthy for You to grant this to him; for he loves our nation and it was he who built us our synagogue.” Now Jesus was going on His way with them; and when He was not far from thehouse, the centurion sent friends, saying to Him, “Lord, do not trouble Yourself further, for I am not good enough for You to come under my roof. For this reason I did not even consider myself worthy to come to You, but just say the word, and my servant will be healed. For I also am a man placed under authority, with soldiers under me; and I say to this one, ‘Go!’ and he goes, and to another, ‘Come!’ and he comes, and to my slave, ‘Do this!’ and he does it.” Now when Jesus heard this, He marveled at him. And He turned to the crowd that was following Him and said, “I say to you, not even in Israel have I found such great faith.” And when those who had been sent returned to the house, they found the slave in good health.
(Luke 7:1-10 LSB)
A Worthy Man's Unworthy Plea (v. 1-5)
The scene is set in Capernaum, Jesus' base of operations. A centurion, a commander of about a hundred Roman soldiers, has a problem. His slave, whom he values greatly, is at the point of death. This centurion is an interesting figure. He is a Gentile, an agent of the Roman occupation. Yet he is clearly a man who has shown great favor to the Jewish people.
"Now when he heard about Jesus, he sent some Jewish elders asking Him to come and save the life of his slave. And when they came to Jesus, they were earnestly pleading with Him, saying, 'He is worthy for You to grant this to him; for he loves our nation and it was he who built us our synagogue.'" (Luke 7:3-5 LSB)
Notice the approach. The centurion does not come himself. He sends a delegation of Jewish elders. This is his first act of humility. He understands the social and religious dynamics. He is a Gentile, and for him to ask a Jewish rabbi to enter his home would be a significant breach of custom. So he sends intermediaries, respected leaders of the community.
But pay close attention to the argument they make. Their plea is based entirely on the centurion's worthiness. They present Jesus with a spiritual balance sheet. "He deserves this, Jesus. Look at his record. First, he loves our nation. He's not like the other Romans. He's a friend. Second, he put his money where his mouth is. He built our synagogue." This is the religion of merit. It is transactional. It assumes that God's blessings can be earned, that He operates on a system of cosmic bookkeeping. If you do enough good deeds, God is obligated to help you out.
This is the natural religion of the human heart. We all think this way. We try to bargain with God. We try to put Him in our debt. We point to our church attendance, our tithes, our moral behavior, our synagogue-building, and we say, "See, God? I am worthy." But this is a complete misunderstanding of how the kingdom of God works. The gospel is not for the worthy. The gospel is for bankrupt sinners who have nothing to offer. The elders, for all their religious standing, are operating on a pagan wavelength. They are treating Jesus like a vending machine that dispenses miracles in exchange for the currency of good works.
The Grammar of True Faith (v. 6-8)
Jesus, in His grace, agrees to go. But on the way, the story takes a dramatic turn. The centurion, perhaps getting word that Jesus is actually coming to his house, panics. He realizes that his plan has gone wrong, that Jesus has taken the elders' faulty argument at face value. So he sends another delegation.
"Lord, do not trouble Yourself further, for I am not good enough for You to come under my roof. For this reason I did not even consider myself worthy to come to You, but just say the word, and my servant will be healed." (Luke 7:6-7 LSB)
Here we have the centurion's own voice, and it is the polar opposite of the elders' plea. They said, "He is worthy." He says, "I am not good enough... I did not even consider myself worthy." This is the essential posture of faith. It is not false humility; it is a clear-eyed recognition of reality. It is the creature acknowledging the infinite distance between himself and the Creator. It is the sinner acknowledging his uncleanness before a holy God. This man understands that the presence of Jesus is not something to be demanded or earned, but a terrifying and glorious thing that he has no right to claim.
But his humility is not the end of the story. It is coupled with an astonishing understanding of authority. This is the heart of the passage.
"For I also am a man placed under authority, with soldiers under me; and I say to this one, ‘Go!’ and he goes, and to another, ‘Come!’ and he comes, and to my slave, ‘Do this!’ and he does it." (Luke 7:8 LSB)
This soldier, because he was a soldier, understood the nature of reality better than the theologians. He lived in a world of command and control, a world of hierarchy. He knew what it was to be "under authority." He had a commander over him. And because he was under authority, he himself had authority. His words had power. When he spoke, reality reconfigured itself to obey. He didn't have to go and physically move his soldier from point A to point B. He just had to speak the word.
He looked at Jesus and saw the same principle at work, but on a cosmic scale. He reasoned this way: "This Jesus is a man under God's authority. He is the authorized agent of Heaven. Therefore, when He speaks, His word carries the full authority of God Himself." He understood that Jesus's power was not magical or mystical; it was authoritative. He didn't need to be physically present any more than the centurion needed to be physically present to command his soldier. Sickness, disease, demons, and death were like soldiers under Jesus's command. All He had to do was "just say the word." This is faith in the performative Word of God. This is the same faith that understands Genesis 1. When God said, "Let there be light," He didn't persuade the darkness. He commanded it. The centurion saw that same creative, fiat power residing in Jesus of Nazareth.
The Faith that Astonishes Jesus (v. 9-10)
Jesus's reaction is profound. This is one of only two places in the Gospels where Jesus is said to marvel. The other time, He marveled at the unbelief of His own hometown. Here, He marvels at the faith of a Gentile.
"Now when Jesus heard this, He marveled at him. And He turned to the crowd that was following Him and said, 'I say to you, not even in Israel have I found such great faith.'" (Luke 7:9 LSB)
Think about what it takes to make God in human flesh marvel. It is not our religious accomplishments. It is not our synagogue-building. It is not our theological sophistication. It is simple, robust, unhesitating trust in the authority of His word. This Roman soldier, this outsider, this pagan, understood the secret of the kingdom in a way that had escaped the covenant people.
Jesus then turns to the crowd, to the Israelites following Him, and delivers a stunning rebuke. "Not even in Israel have I found such great faith." This is a shot across the bow of all religious presumption. He is saying that proximity to the means of grace, having the Scriptures, the temple, the covenants, is no guarantee of having true faith. It is possible to be surrounded by the things of God and still operate on the pagan principle of merit. And it is possible for an outsider, a man steeped in the pagan world, to grasp the heart of the gospel with greater clarity than the religious insiders.
The conclusion is swift and almost understated. The word of Jesus is so powerful that it operates at a distance. The healing is a foregone conclusion. The real miracle was the faith that laid hold of the healer.
"And when those who had been sent returned to the house, they found the slave in good health." (Luke 7:10 LSB)
The centurion asked Jesus to "say the word." Jesus spoke His word of commendation, and that word was sufficient. The authority was exercised, and the slave was made well.
Conclusion: What is Your Plea?
This story lays a choice before every one of us. On what basis are you approaching God? Are you coming with the elders, holding up your list of accomplishments, arguing that you are worthy of His attention? Are you trying to cut a deal, to put God in your debt? If so, you are practicing the religion of merit, and it will fail you utterly. It is a religion for the proud, and God opposes the proud.
Or are you coming like the centurion? Are you coming with a profound sense of your own unworthiness? Do you recognize that you have no right to demand anything from a holy God, that for Him to even notice you is an act of sheer grace? And from that place of humility, do you look to Christ and recognize His absolute authority? Do you believe that His word alone is sufficient? Do you trust that when He speaks, reality obeys?
That is saving faith. It is not a vague feeling or a pious hope. It is a soldier's understanding of authority. It is recognizing that Jesus Christ is Lord, that He is under the Father's authority and therefore wields all of the Father's authority. His word can heal your sickness, yes. But more than that, His word can forgive your sin. His word can raise your spiritually dead soul to new life. His word can command the chaos in your heart to be still. You do not need to make yourself worthy. You cannot. You must simply come, confessing your unworthiness, and ask Him to "just say the word." That is the kind of faith that pleases God. That is the kind of faith that makes Him marvel.