A Pastoral Sermon Reflecting on Matthew 9:9
Beloved congregation, as we open our Bibles together this morning to Matthew chapter 9 verse 9, we step into a moment that reveals the very heartbeat of the gospel, a moment where the eternal Son of God reaches into the mess of ordinary human life and changes everything with two simple words. The verse tells us that as Jesus passed on from there, he saw a man called Matthew sitting at the tax booth, and he said to him, Follow me. And he rose and followed him. This is not just an ancient story about a first-century tax collector; it is a living portrait of how Jesus still calls people today, right in the middle of their everyday routines, their failures, and their hidden struggles, offering a grace that does not wait for us to get our act together but instead summons us into a brand-new life of purpose and belonging.
Consider the world Matthew inhabited. In the Roman-occupied region around the Sea of Galilee, tax collectors were not neutral bureaucrats; they were despised collaborators who worked for the empire that oppressed God’s people. They sat at customs booths along trade routes, squeezing extra money from their own Jewish neighbors to line their pockets while funding Roman roads, armies, and luxuries. Society wrote them off as unclean sinners, people who had sold their souls for profit and forfeited any right to worship in the synagogue or share meals with respectable folks. Matthew was not lurking in some dark alley; he was right out in the open, doing his shameful job in broad daylight, surrounded by the very symbols of his compromise. His booth represented everything that kept him isolated, everything that defined him in the eyes of others and probably in his own eyes as well: greed, betrayal, and a life without hope of redemption. The religious leaders of the day had already decided that people like Matthew were beyond the reach of God’s mercy, too far gone for any rabbi to bother with.
Yet it is precisely here, in this place of deepest alienation, that Jesus chooses to act. Notice the sequence in the verse: Jesus saw him first. This is not a casual glance; it is the seeing of sovereign love, the same divine gaze that saw Hagar in the wilderness and called her by name, the same seeing that knows us completely before we ever turn toward God. Jesus does not wait for Matthew to clean up his books, make restitution, or show up at the synagogue with a repentant heart. He does not demand a résumé of good deeds or a season of self-improvement. Instead, while Matthew is still seated in the middle of his sin, still collecting taxes and still carrying the weight of public contempt, Jesus issues the call: Follow me. Those two words carry the full authority of the Messiah who has already demonstrated power over paralysis, sin, and sickness in the verses just before this one. This is the effectual call of grace, the kind of summons that does not merely invite but actually creates the response it requires. Theologians throughout the centuries have recognized this as irresistible grace at work, the Holy Spirit taking the external word of Jesus and making it alive inside a dead heart, overcoming every barrier of sin and self-interest so that faith becomes not only possible but inevitable.
Matthew’s response is breathtaking in its simplicity and immediacy. He rose and followed him. No debate. No conditions. No stopping to calculate the financial loss or explain himself to his Roman bosses. In that single act of standing up, he left behind the booth, the ledgers, the steady income, and the identity that had shaped every waking hour. The Greek word for rose carries echoes of resurrection language; it is the same verb used when Jesus raises the dead or when the paralyzed man picks up his mat and walks. In that moment Matthew experiences a kind of personal resurrection, passing from death in sin to new life in Christ. This is the pattern of conversion we see throughout Scripture: God’s grace always precedes our response, always initiates, always provides the power to obey. From Abraham leaving Ur to Paul on the Damascus road, the story is the same. Salvation is never earned by climbing out of our own booths; it is received when we hear the voice of Jesus and let him lift us to our feet.
The theological richness here runs deep. This single verse dismantles every merit-based approach to God. If Jesus had waited for Matthew to become respectable, the tax collector would still be sitting there today. Instead, Jesus reveals himself as the Great Physician who comes for the sick, not the healthy, as he will explain in the very next verses. This is the doctrine of justification by grace alone through faith alone, lived out in real time. Matthew is declared worthy not because he fixed himself but because Jesus called him. And once called, he is immediately incorporated into the community of disciples, a group that will eventually include fishermen, zealots, and even the one who would betray the Lord. The church, then and now, is not a club for the already righteous; it is a hospital for sinners where the only qualification is hearing and responding to the call. This truth also shapes our understanding of sanctification. Following Jesus is not a one-time decision but a lifelong journey of leaving booths behind. Every day we are invited to stand up from whatever lesser allegiance has claimed our attention, whether it is the pursuit of success at any cost, the comfort of bitterness, the numbness of addiction, or the quiet idolatry of self-reliance.
Now let us bring this home to our lives in practical, everyday terms. Each of us has our own tax booth, a place where we sit day after day collecting our own version of security or identity at the expense of our souls. For some it is the relentless grind of workaholism, where the next promotion or paycheck becomes the source of worth. For others it is the booth of resentment, where we keep careful records of every wrong done to us and refuse to forgive. Still others sit in the booth of anxiety, tallying every possible future disaster instead of trusting the One who holds tomorrow. Jesus walks by those places today just as surely as he walked by Matthew’s booth. He sees you there, not with condemnation but with the same love that looked on Matthew. And he is saying the same thing: Follow me. The practical step is simple yet profound: rise up. That means making concrete decisions this week to leave something behind. It might mean shutting down the laptop at a reasonable hour and spending time in prayer instead of chasing one more email. It might mean picking up the phone to apologize to someone you have wronged and refusing to let pride keep you seated. It might mean opening your Bible every morning before checking your bank account or social media, choosing the voice of Jesus over the voices of fear and comparison.
Following Jesus also means stepping into community, just as Matthew immediately joined the band of disciples. Do not try to walk this path alone. Find a small group, a mentor, or a fellow believer who can remind you of the call when you feel like sitting back down. And remember that your story, like Matthew’s, is not over when you rise. The man who left the tax booth went on to write the very Gospel we are reading, becoming an apostle and a witness whose words have brought millions into the kingdom. Your past does not disqualify you; it equips you. The grace that saved you will now use you to reach others who are still sitting in their own booths of shame or compromise. Look around your workplace, your neighborhood, your family gatherings. Who is the overlooked person everyone else has written off? Jesus is calling you to see them with his eyes and extend the same invitation you have received.
This is the wonder of the gospel we celebrate together: the King of kings does not recruit from the religious elite or the morally impressive. He calls tax collectors and turns them into saints. He calls addicts and makes them sober. He calls the anxious and gives them peace that passes understanding. He calls the proud and teaches them humility. Every time we hear Follow me and choose to rise, we participate in the same resurrection power that raised Jesus from the dead and that will one day raise us to eternal life. So today, in this very moment, listen for that voice again. It is not distant or theoretical; it is personal and present. Jesus is passing by your booth, looking straight at you with eyes full of mercy, and speaking the words that have the power to change your eternity: Follow me.
Rise up, church. Leave the old ledger behind. Step into the adventure of discipleship where every ordinary day becomes an opportunity to walk with the Savior who saw you, loved you, and called you by name. The same Jesus who called Matthew is calling you, and the same grace that lifted him to his feet is more than able to lift you. May we respond with the same wholehearted obedience, following him not just in word but in the daily choices that shape our lives, until the day we stand before him and hear, Well done, good and faithful servant. Amen.
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