Commentary - Luke 17:1-10

Bird's-eye view

In this tightly-woven passage, Jesus lays out a series of foundational, and frankly staggering, requirements for life in His kingdom. This is not a collection of disconnected sayings, but rather a unified instruction on the character of true discipleship. He begins with the terrifying seriousness of sin, particularly the sin of leading others astray. He then pivots to the equally radical demand for limitless forgiveness within the community. The disciples, rightly recognizing the human impossibility of such a standard, cry out for more faith. Jesus corrects their misunderstanding of faith, explaining that its power lies not in its quantity but in its object. He then concludes with the crucial parable of the unworthy slave, which provides the foundational mindset for all that came before. The Christian life is not a meritocracy. It is a life of simple, humble duty, where even our most perfect obedience does not put God in our debt. It is a life lived in utter dependence on the grace of God, which is the only thing that makes such radical obedience possible in the first place.

This section serves as a potent antidote to any form of self-righteousness. It establishes that the baseline for kingdom living is supernaturally high, and that the only proper posture for a disciple is one of humble, grateful service, acknowledging that even when we have done all we are commanded, we have only done our duty.

Outline

Context In Luke

This passage comes in the midst of Luke's extended "travel narrative," which details Jesus' final journey to Jerusalem. The surrounding chapters are filled with Jesus' teachings to His disciples, preparing them for His coming death and for the nature of the kingdom that will continue in His absence. Chapter 16 concluded with the stark parable of the rich man and Lazarus, emphasizing the eternal consequences of our earthly lives. Now, in chapter 17, Jesus turns from a warning about hell to instruction on how to live on earth as citizens of heaven. These teachings on sin, forgiveness, and faith are not abstract principles but are intensely practical instructions for the community of believers that will have to navigate a hostile world. The radical nature of these commands sets the stage for the disciples' realization that they cannot live this way in their own strength, which is precisely the point Jesus drives home with the concluding parable.

Key Issues

The Unprofitable Servant's Faith

When the apostles hear the commands Jesus lays down, they have a very modern reaction. They feel overwhelmed and inadequate, and so they ask for more of the stuff they think they need to pull it off. "Increase our faith!" It sounds pious, but it reveals a fundamental misunderstanding. They are thinking of faith as a kind of spiritual muscle, and they need Jesus to give them a bigger bicep so they can lift the heavy weight of His commands. But Jesus immediately corrects them. The problem is never the size of your faith; the problem is the location of it. A thimbleful of faith in an omnipotent God is infinitely more powerful than a bucketful of faith in your own abilities. Jesus uses this interaction to pivot to the very heart of the matter. The Christian life is not about accumulating enough spiritual capital to perform impressive feats for God. It is about recognizing our position as servants who simply owe the Master everything. The commands are not a ladder to climb for a reward; they are the simple duties of a household slave.

Verse by Verse Commentary

1 Now He said to His disciples, “It is inevitable that stumbling blocks come, but woe to him through whom they come!

Jesus begins with a statement of sober reality. The word for "stumbling blocks" is skandala, from which we get our word scandal. It refers to a trap-trigger, something that causes another person to fall into sin. Jesus says that in a fallen world, it is impossible for such things not to happen. This is not fatalism; it is realism. But this inevitability does not, for one second, remove the personal responsibility of the one who sets the trap. The woe He pronounces is not an expression of pity; it is a formal declaration of covenantal judgment. God's sovereignty in permitting sin does not grant a pass to the sinner who perpetrates it.

2 It would be better for him if a millstone were hung around his neck and he were thrown into the sea, than that he would cause one of these little ones to stumble.

The imagery here is graphic and terrifying. A millstone was a massive stone, requiring a donkey to turn it. To have this tied to your neck and be cast into the sea meant a swift, certain, and violent death. Jesus says that such a fate is preferable to the divine judgment that awaits someone who causes one of His "little ones" to sin. The "little ones" are not just children, but new believers, weak Christians, those who are spiritually vulnerable. To lead such a person into sin through your example, your teaching, or your pressure is to invite a wrath from God that makes a gruesome drowning look like a mercy. This is how seriously God takes the purity and protection of His people.

3 Be on your guard! If your brother sins, rebuke him; and if he repents, forgive him.

Having warned against causing sin, Jesus now instructs on how to deal with sin when it occurs within the community. The first command is "Be on your guard!" This is a call to spiritual alertness, both for our own souls and for the health of the church. When a brother sins, the loving response is not to ignore it, gossip about it, or passively-aggressively resent it. The command is to rebuke him. This is a direct, honest, and courageous confrontation of the sin. But the rebuke has a goal: repentance. And if that goal is met, the next command is equally binding: forgive him. Forgiveness is not optional, and it is not a feeling. It is a transactional promise, a commitment to cancel the debt and not hold the sin against him any longer, and it is triggered by his repentance.

4 And if he sins against you seven times a day, and returns to you seven times, saying, ‘I repent,’ forgive him.”

Jesus anticipates our objection. What if he keeps doing it? Our natural tendency is to set a limit. "Three strikes and you're out." Jesus obliterates that limit. Seven times in a day is a Hebraic way of indicating completeness or repetition. If the repentance is as repetitive as the sin, the forgiveness must be as well. The point is not that we are to be gullible fools, but that we are not to be the ones who close the door on a repentant brother. Our forgiveness is to model God's forgiveness of us, which does not have a punch-card limit. This command is designed to break our pride and our instinct to keep records of wrong.

5 And the apostles said to the Lord, “Increase our faith!”

The apostles' reaction is entirely understandable. They have just heard that they must avoid being a stumbling block on pain of a fate worse than drowning, and that they must forgive the same person repeatedly in the same day. They rightly perceive that this is beyond their natural human capacity. Their diagnosis is correct: they need divine help. Their proposed solution, however, is slightly off. They think of faith as a commodity, a spiritual fuel, and their tank is running low. They need a top-up from Jesus.

6 And the Lord said, “If you have faith like a mustard seed, you would say to this mulberry tree, ‘Be uprooted and be planted in the sea’; and it would obey you.

Jesus does not say, "Alright, here is some more faith." He corrects their premise. The issue is not the size of your faith, but the size of your God. A mustard seed was proverbially the smallest of seeds. Faith this small, if it is genuine faith placed in the living God, has access to omnipotence. The image of commanding a mulberry tree, known for its deep and strong root system, to be uprooted and planted in the sea, is an image of absolute impossibility. But with God, nothing is impossible. Jesus is teaching them that faith is not the power; faith is the connection to the power. You don't need a bigger cable to draw power from the power station; you just need to be plugged in.

7-9 “But which of you, having a slave plowing or tending sheep, will say to him when he has come in from the field, ‘Come immediately and sit down to eat’? But will he not say to him, ‘Prepare something for me to eat, and, clothing yourself properly, serve me while I eat and drink; and afterward you may eat and drink’? Is he grateful to the slave because he did the things which were commanded?

This parable is the theological foundation for the whole section. Jesus uses a common, everyday illustration from their culture. A master does not feel indebted to his slave for doing the work he was assigned. When the slave comes in from a long day in the fields, his work is not done. He still has duties in the house. He must serve his master's meal before he can think of his own. The master does not lavish thanks on the slave for this, because the slave is simply doing his job. It is the expected duty of a slave.

10 In this way, you also, when you do all the things which are commanded of you, say, ‘We are unworthy slaves; we have done only that which we ought to have done.’ ”

Here is the punchline, and it is a blow to all human pride. Jesus applies the parable directly to the disciples. "In this way, you also..." Even if we could achieve a state of perfect obedience, if we never caused anyone to stumble and forgave seven times a day without fail, our posture before God should not be one of proud accomplishment. We should not expect a special reward as though we had put God in our debt. Our proper confession is this: "We are unworthy slaves." The Greek word achreioi means unprofitable. It does not mean worthless, but rather that we have not generated a profit for the master. We have not done anything "extra" to merit special favor. We have simply done our duty. This is the heart of the gospel of grace. We are not saved by our performance. We are saved by the mercy of the Master, and our obedience is the grateful, dutiful response to that mercy.

Application

This passage should fundamentally reorient how we view our Christian lives. First, we must take sin with the utmost seriousness. We live in a casual age, but Jesus tells us that leading another person into sin is a damnable offense. We must examine our lives, our words, and our habits. Are we a stepping stone to Christ for others, or a stumbling block?

Second, our churches must become arenas of radical forgiveness. This requires both the courage to rebuke sin honestly and the grace to forgive repentance completely. A community that refuses to do both of these things is a sick community. We must abandon our score-keeping and extend the same grace we have received.

Finally, and most importantly, we must destroy the idol of merit in our hearts. Your relationship with God is not a business contract. You are not an employee trying to earn a raise. You are a slave who has been bought with a price, the blood of Christ. Your obedience, your service, your forgiveness of others, none of it earns you anything. It is all simply your duty. But here is the glorious paradox of the gospel. While we are in ourselves unworthy slaves, the Master we serve is one of infinite grace. He is the one who, in the great reversal, girded Himself with a towel and washed His disciples' feet. He is the one who invites us to His table and serves us. Our service is our duty, yes, but it is a duty performed for a Master of such love and kindness that the service itself becomes our greatest joy and freedom.