21 Sep 2025, Luke 16:1-13, “The Parable of the Dishonest Manager: Finding God's Delight”

Here in Australia, spring begins in September, but in Korea, spring starts around late February or March. So while we are enjoying spring now, Korea is already heading into autumn. That’s why spring in Korea feels even more symbolic—it’s always seen as a season of new beginnings. Schools start a new academic year, farmers begin planting seeds, and churches often promote new ministries.

One of the church’s long-standing ministries in spring is “the Spring Pastoral Visit.” Don't you find it interesting? During this season, the minister visits almost every family in the congregation—usually one in the morning, another in the afternoon, and sometimes even one more in the evening. In each home, they pray together, share concerns, and grow in fellowship. It is a beautiful tradition in the springtime.

But there was one challenge in particular for the ministers. Some even called this season, with a smile, “the season of gaining weight.” You can probably guess why—yes, it’s the food! Every family prepared not just a simple meal, but a full feast. People say, “The table legs are about to break.” Yet the host family always says humbly, “It’s nothing special, but please enjoy.” Out of love and respect, they served their very best.

Ministers would try to remind members, “Please, don’t prepare too much. Just a bit of tea or coffee will be fine.” But of course, it never worked. Every host in the church seemed to turn it into a cooking competition, bringing out dish after dish. My mum did the same, first cleaning the whole house and preparing more food than even on my birthdays. Ministers ate out of kindness, and since every family wanted to show their love, they had to eat a lot. In the end, it felt like part of their duty.

When I was a youth worker in Seoul, we welcomed a new senior minister. He knew this tradition very well, so he said to the church members, “It’s spring, and it is time to visit you, but please, just prepare a little refreshment. Don’t worry about food.” He even told his wife, “Please, keep my favorite food a secret.” Why? Because if the secret got out, he might end up eating the same food three times a day for the whole month! But of course, many people still called his wife, asking, “What does the minister really enjoy eating?” And his wife replied, “He eats everything.”

At first, the meals really were quite simple, which was good. But after about three days, something unusual began to happen. Suddenly, the minister’s favorite food appeared on the table. And then the next day, the same thing again. And the day after that, again the same food! Finally, the minister laughed and said, “This is strange. It feels like my favorite food is following me wherever I go!”

One family explained with a smile, “We called your wife, but she wouldn’t tell us. So we asked the previous family, ‘Where did the minister’s chopsticks go most often?’ And that’s how we knew.” He was deeply moved. Of course, he appreciated the delicious food and the warm hospitality. But even more touching was the care behind that small act. They had quietly noticed where his chopsticks went. He was amazed by their unexpected gratitude, joy, and love.

And in that moment, he thought to himself: “I, too, need to find out where God’s chopsticks go. I want God’s chopsticks to come to me and to our church. I want to serve in a way that pleases God.” And those words have stayed with me ever since. I find myself saying, “I will pay attention to where God’s chopsticks go, and I will follow them.” What a powerful reminder!

So why am I sharing this story with you today? Just as those church members carefully watched where their minister’s chopsticks went, today’s passage invites us to carefully and prayerfully watch where God’s “chopsticks” go, and where His joy is.

After teaching the parables of the lost sheep, the lost coin, and the lost son, Jesus then turned to His disciples and told them another story. This one, however, was strange and unsettling: the story of the dishonest manager.

There was once a super-rich man who had a manager. In those days, a mana

ger was like a household financial planner, responsible for handling the master’s money and making agreements with those who were in debt. But this manager was not doing his job well. Word spread that he was wasting his master’s money. So the master called him in and said: “What is this I hear about you? You have not managed my property faithfully. You can no longer be my steward. Bring me the accounts, your position is finished.” He was terrified. “What am I going to do now? I’m about to lose my job! I’m not strong enough to dig, and I’m too ashamed to beg. What should I do?”

After much thought, he finally came up with a plan. So he called in those who had outstanding debts. To the first he said, “How much do you owe my master?” “A hundred measures of olive oil,” the man replied. “Take your bill,” he said, “sit down quickly, and change it to fifty.” Then he asked another, “And how much do you owe?” “A hundred measures of wheat,” he replied. “Take your bill and make it eighty.” In this way, he reduced their debts and eased their burdens without the master’s permission! The debtors were grateful, and he gained their favour.

And here is the surprising part: when the master heard what he had done, he praised him. Why? Because he made a smart choice. Yes, the master commended the dishonest manager.

I’ve always struggled with this story. The manager was clearly unjust—he had already failed in his duty and was dismissed for wasting his master’s property. And then, he even used what wasn’t his to reduce the payments! He knew his dishonesty. And still, he was pleased. Even more surprising, Jesus goes on to say, “Learn from this steward.” How can this be? Why would this make the master glad? Perhaps even the steward himself was shocked: “Really? My master is pleased with this? Surely not…”

This makes us pause and ask: Why was the master pleased? And why would Jesus say, “Learn from this manager”?

Some explain it this way: Jesus is not praising dishonesty, but teaching us to be wise in using resources to build relationships. Wealth will pass away, but when it is used for God’s kingdom—for saving and helping people, it carries eternal value.

Others say the manager was wise because he looked ahead. Though in crisis, he acted with the future in mind. Still others note his shrewdness. His dishonesty should never be copied, but his determination to find a way forward is worth noticing.

I agree with those insights. But I want to point out something more. The real question is: Who was Jesus speaking to? “His disciples.” Because even as they followed Him, their hearts were divided. Their minds were fixed on success. Maybe they said:“When Jesus becomes king, I’ll sit at His side! I’ll be promoted. People will notice me. My day will come!” So they followed Jesus with great zeal, but that ambition did not please Jesus.

And nearby, the Pharisees and teachers of the Law were listening too. In their hearts they said: “If I want to please God, I must keep the Sabbath perfectly. I must obey every law. I must give more. I must keep tradition. God will commend me! God will be pleased with me!”

But Jesus shook His head, because it was devotion without genuine love—rules above people, law above compassion, tradition above grace. And in the end, they missed the very heart of God. Jesus said, “No. That is your joy, not God’s joy.”

That is why Jesus told this shocking story: “The dishonest manager pleased his master.” It means that what we think makes God happy is not always what really does.

Jesus reminds us too: “What makes you glad is not always what delights Me. My joy is far greater—beyond what you can measure or control.” The master’s praise of the dishonest manager was unexpected. In the same way, God’s joy is not always found where we think it should be.  And then verse 10 shines with new light: “Whoever can be trusted with very little can also be trusted with much.” What touches God’s heart is not big achievements or great success, but faithfulness in small things—those hidden acts, those unseen choices of obedience and love. That is where God’s true joy is found.

Dear brothers and sisters, this parable is not really about money. It is not a guide for managing wealth, nor simply about our attitude toward possessions. We may not fully understand why the master praised the dishonest manager. But this much is certain: the master was pleased and commended. And that shows us something important—his expectations were not the same as ours. The message is clear: Just as the master, in an unexpected way, praised the steward, God’s joy and commendation may also be very different from how we see things. That is why we carefully and faithfully look for where His chopsticks rest, again and again.

As I reflected on this passage, I was reminded of something I once said during morning tea. Kind of joking but also serious, I told a few of us: “If one Sunday we ever have 100 people gathered for worship, I’ll buy pizza for the whole church!” Do we remember that? At the time, most of us just laughed. Many probably thought it was only a joke. But the truth is, I was quite serious. I had even set some money aside, just in case.

In a time when so many churches are shrinking, the image of 100 people gathered together in worship felt like a beautiful dream. “How joyful that would be! Surely God would be pleased and commend us!” But as I prepared this sermon, I had to ask again: “Is our joy the same as God’s joy?”

Yes, if 100 people came, we would all be happy. The music would be louder, the offering would increase, the church would be full of energy. But would that necessarily bring joy to God? Or is that perhaps more about our pride, our ambition, our desire? Because God does not look at numbers, He looks at hearts. God does not delight in attendance statistics. Instead, God delights in our desire to discover what brings Him joy. And when these small things are offered to Him, He rejoices greatly. As Jesus reminds us, we cannot serve both our joy and God’s joy at the same time. Of course, the promise still stands: “If 100 people come, we’ll have pizza!” But the greater question is this: “What truly brings joy to God? Where are God’s chopsticks moving today?”

Dear friends, this parable of the dishonest manager leads us to one simple confession:“Lord, we want our lives to be a joy to You. Not our joy, but Yours.” So may this be our prayer as a community: “Lord, open our eyes to see what truly delights You. If we have mistaken our joy for Yours, forgive us. Teach us to seek Your joy first, and to live in it.” And this week, whenever we sit at the table and pick up our spoon, fork, or chopsticks, let us remember today’s message with joy: Where are the Lord’s chopsticks moving? And are we there with Him? May we discover God’s joy even in the most unexpected places. And may His chopsticks rest upon us with blessing and delight. Amen.