The Unpleasable Generation
Introduction: The World's Rigged Game
We live in a world that is perpetually offended. It is a world full of spiritual toddlers, sitting in the marketplace of ideas, demanding that God play their tune. When He doesn't, they throw a tantrum. This is not a new phenomenon. Our Lord Jesus Christ confronted this very same spirit in His own day. The religious leaders, the cultural elites, the men who should have known better, were masters of the rigged game. They were professional goalpost-movers. Whatever God did, it was wrong. Whatever messenger He sent, he was the wrong sort of messenger.
This is the nature of unbelief. Unbelief is not a cool, rational skepticism. It is not an honest intellectual struggle. Unbelief is a spiritual pouting. It is a stubborn refusal to be pleased with God. It is a moral resistance masquerading as intellectual superiority. The unbelieving heart has already determined that it will not submit to God, and so it dedicates its energy to manufacturing reasons, post hoc, for its rebellion. It is like a child who has decided he will not eat his vegetables, and so he complains that they are too hot. When they cool, he complains they are too cold. When they are mashed, he complains they are not whole. The problem is not the vegetables; the problem is the child's will.
In our passage today, Jesus unmasks this childish, petulant spirit. He exposes the hypocrisy of a generation that claimed to be seeking God but rejected every approach God made to them. They were critics in the stands, booing every player on the field, regardless of how the game was played. And in doing so, Jesus teaches us a fundamental truth: the world's standards for righteousness are a moving target designed to ensure that God is always in the wrong. But God is not playing their game. His wisdom is not subject to their fickle reviews. As we will see, God's wisdom is ultimately vindicated, not by the approval of the world's critics, but by the lives of her children.
The Text
"To what then shall I compare the men of this generation, and what are they like? They are like children, sitting in the marketplace and calling to one another, who say, ‘We played the flute for you, and you did not dance; we sang a dirge, and you did not cry.’ For John the Baptist has come eating no bread and drinking no wine, and you say, ‘He has a demon!’ The Son of Man has come eating and drinking, and you say, ‘Behold, a gluttonous man and a drunkard, a friend of tax collectors and sinners!’ Yet wisdom is vindicated by all her children.”
(Luke 7:31-35 LSB)
The Divine Diagnosis (v. 31)
Jesus begins with a diagnostic question. He is about to hold up a mirror to the spiritual leaders of Israel.
"To what then shall I compare the men of this generation, and what are they like?" (Luke 7:31)
Our Lord often taught in parables, using earthly stories to reveal heavenly realities. Here, He uses a comparison, an analogy, to expose the heart of "this generation." The phrase "this generation" is not a neutral demographic descriptor. In the Gospels, it almost always refers to the corrupt, unbelieving spiritual leadership of Israel and the people who followed them. This is the generation that would ultimately reject and crucify their own Messiah. Jesus is not just making a general observation about human nature; He is leveling a specific charge against the covenant people who should have been the first to recognize Him.
He is asking, "What is the root spiritual problem here? What is the best picture to describe this deep-seated rebellion?" He is about to give them an image that is both simple and devastating. He is going to compare these learned scribes and Pharisees, these men of dignity and public piety, to a group of spoiled children.
The Children's Game (v. 32)
The comparison He lands on is one of childish petulance in the public square.
"They are like children, sitting in the marketplace and calling to one another, who say, ‘We played the flute for you, and you did not dance; we sang a dirge, and you did not cry.’" (Luke 7:32)
The marketplace was the center of public life. It was where business was done, news was shared, and people gathered. And in this public square, Jesus paints a picture of children playing games. They are playing "wedding" and "funeral." First, they play the flute, the music for a wedding celebration. The expectation is that the other children will join in, dancing and celebrating. But they refuse. "We played the flute for you, and you did not dance."
So, the children switch games. If you don't want to play wedding, let's play funeral. They begin to sing a dirge, a mournful lament. The expectation now is that the other children will join in the mock grief, beating their chests and crying. But again, they refuse. "We sang a dirge, and you did not cry."
The point of the analogy is not about which group of children is which. The point is the spirit of the complaint. It is the spirit of the perpetually offended, the perpetually displeased. "We tried to get you to play our happy game, and you wouldn't. We tried to get you to play our sad game, and you wouldn't. Nothing pleases you." But Jesus is turning this right back on them. The religious leaders are the sullen children who refuse to play. God is the one initiating the call, and they are the ones refusing to respond, no matter what the tune is.
The Two Messengers (v. 33-34)
Jesus now applies the analogy with surgical precision to the ministries of John the Baptist and Himself.
"For John the Baptist has come eating no bread and drinking no wine, and you say, ‘He has a demon!’ The Son of Man has come eating and drinking, and you say, ‘Behold, a gluttonous man and a drunkard, a friend of tax collectors and sinners!’" (Luke 7:33-34)
First, God sent them the funeral dirge. John the Baptist came in the spirit of Elijah. He was an ascetic. He lived in the wilderness, wore rough clothing, and ate locusts and wild honey. He "came eating no bread and drinking no wine," the staples of normal, civilized life. His message was sharp, severe, and demanding: "Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand!" He called for mourning over sin. He was the dirge. And how did "this generation" respond? They refused to cry. They dismissed him as a madman, a fanatic. "He has a demon!" They wrote him off because his methods were too severe, too extreme, too uncomfortable.
So, God changed the tune. After the dirge, He sent the wedding music. The Son of Man, Jesus Himself, came. He didn't live in the wilderness; He lived among the people. He "has come eating and drinking." He went to weddings, like the one in Cana, and not only attended but provided the wine. He went to dinner parties and feasts. His message was one of grace and invitation: "The kingdom of God is here! The feast is ready!" He was the flute. And how did they respond? They refused to dance. They took the very thing that was different about His ministry and used it as a weapon against Him. "Behold, a gluttonous man and a drunkard, a friend of tax collectors and sinners!" They slandered His joy just as they had slandered John's austerity.
Do you see the trap? John was too detached from the world, so he was demonic. Jesus was too engaged with the world, so He was debauched. The real issue was not the method. The real issue was the message, which in both cases was a call to submit to the kingdom of God. The excuses were just a smokescreen for rebellion. When you are determined to reject God, you can always find a pious-sounding reason for it.
The Ultimate Vindication (v. 35)
Jesus concludes with a profound statement that reframes the whole idea of success and failure.
"Yet wisdom is vindicated by all her children." (Luke 7:35)
The world may call God's methods foolish. The critics in the marketplace may scoff and slander. But God's wisdom does not need their approval. Wisdom is personified here as a mother, and her rightness, her righteousness, is demonstrated by the character and lives of her children. This is another way of saying, "You will know them by their fruits."
Who are the children of wisdom? They are the ones who heard the dirge of John and actually repented. They are the tax collectors and prostitutes who saw their sin and came to be baptized by him. And they are the ones who heard the flute of Jesus and came to the feast. They are the sinners and the outcasts who received His grace and had their lives transformed. The proof of God's wisdom is not found in popular opinion polls or in the approval of the religious establishment. The proof is in the changed lives. The proof is in the fruit of the gospel.
The Pharisees and lawyers thought they were wise, but their "wisdom" produced no children, only more critics. Theirs was a sterile wisdom. But God's wisdom, embodied in the severe call of John and the gracious invitation of Jesus, created a new family. It gave birth to children of God. The lives of these children, the repentant and the redeemed, are the ultimate justification of God's ways. They are the evidence that God knew what He was doing all along.
Conclusion: Whose Tune Are You Dancing To?
The spirit of the unpleasable generation is alive and well today. The world still refuses to dance to God's flute and refuses to mourn to His dirge. If the church is too strict in its doctrine, it is called hateful and legalistic. If it is too gracious and welcoming to sinners, it is called compromised and worldly. If we preach judgment, we are scaremongers. If we preach grace, we are antinomians. The game is rigged, and the only way to win is not to play.
We are not called to please the sullen children in the marketplace. We are called to be the children of wisdom. This means we must have ears to hear both the dirge and the flute. We must be able to hear the law's demand for repentance and mourn our sin. There is a time for sackcloth and ashes. There is a time to take our sin seriously, as a deadly offense against a holy God. This is John's ministry, and it prepares the way for the Lord.
But we must also be able to hear the gospel's invitation to the feast and dance. We must be able to receive the free grace of Jesus Christ with joy. He has come eating and drinking. He has prepared a table for us in the presence of our enemies. He invites us to a party, a wedding feast, where the wine never runs out. To be a child of wisdom is to know when to weep and when to laugh, when to mourn and when to dance.
The world will call you a demon or a drunkard, depending on the day. Pay it no mind. The wisdom of God in the gospel of Jesus Christ, the wisdom of a crucified and risen Savior, has been judged foolishness by the world. But for those of us who are being saved, it is the power of God. And the proof is in the children. The proof is in the church, this glorious, messy, redeemed family, gathered from every tribe and tongue, vindicating the wisdom of our God by our very existence.
So, let the world play its childish games. We have heard the call of our Father. We have repented at the preaching of His law, and we have rejoiced at the announcement of His gospel. And by His grace, we will spend our lives, and all of eternity, dancing to His tune.