And when he had completed all his words in the hearing of the people, he entered into Capernaum.
This one verse closes the Lord's great sermon and moves Him into a town. Who was that teaching for, what was it meant to do, and why is the first person He meets in Capernaum a Roman officer rather than an Israelite?
The words ended "in the hearing of the people." The crowd listened, but the Lord aimed the teaching at a smaller group, and its subject was conduct rather than redemption.
The crowds were present, but He addressed the discourse to His disciples. … Compare Luke 7:1, and the facts come out plainly. There it says, "After he had finished all his sayings in the hearing of the people." … He preached the good news of the kingdom. In the sermon on the mount, He lays down its principles, describes the character of those who would enjoy its privileges, and gives clear directions for how they are to conduct themselves. … So the subject of the discourse is moral principles and precepts, not redemption.
Everything up to this verse stays inside Israel, though the grace at work in it already points wider.
Up to the end of Luke 6, the Lord is still inside the borders of Israel, though there are certainly principles of grace here that hint at much more — God's mercy going out to every soul of man. Yet until the end of that chapter the Lord does not go beyond the godly Jews now joined to Himself, joined in mission too, as the apostles. If He gathers, He sends out from Himself to gather to Himself.
What follows this verse is not more teaching but proof. A Gentile, not an Israelite, is the one who owns how far the Lord's power reaches.
In the chapter that follows (Luke 7) we shall see the Lord prove even more plainly that grace cannot be tied to Jewish limits. His was a power which the Gentile owns to be absolute over all — over death as well as over nature.
Matthew tells the same healing but pairs it with a different miracle, and for a different purpose.
We have already had the leper in Luke 5. Matthew moves it, so as to place it beside the centurion's servant, the account that opens this chapter. The leper shows the dealings of the Lord Jesus and the character of His ministry among the Jews. The centurion's servant bears witness to the great change about to take place, when mercy would go out to the Gentiles on the rejection of Israel. The Spirit of God led Luke, as we have seen, to use it for a completely different purpose. In Luke the leper goes with the paralytic man, not with the centurion, to bring out the different moral effects of sin, not a change of dispensation.
Capernaum was no ordinary town. What the Lord later said about it shows what such privilege costs a place that refuses Him.
The Lord Himself spoke of this mark of outward privilege and its abuse in solemn and weighty words: "And you, Capernaum, will you be exalted to heaven? You will be brought down to Hades. For if the mighty works done in you had been done in Sodom, it would have remained until this day" (Matt. 11:23). Capernaum did not repent at the preaching of Jesus. Its unbelieving people must each answer for themselves in a day of judgment still to come. And this town, the Lord's own city in Galilee, has been so completely destroyed that no one can now identify its site for certain.
The older wording read that first line as a statement, not a question: Capernaum stood "exalted to heaven" in privilege. The same town held the synagogue where He taught again and again.
It would seem there was only one synagogue in Capernaum — the one where the Lord had already shown His power (4:33), and where He so often taught.
- Word finished. The Lord aimed the sermon at His disciples while the crowd listened in. Its subject was the conduct of the kingdom, not redemption.
- Word gathering. Through Luke 6 the Lord stays inside Israel. He draws a company around Himself and sends them out to gather others to Himself.
- Word travelling. Entering Capernaum opens the proof that grace has no Jewish limits, and that His power rules over disease and over death.
- Word arranged. Matthew places this healing to mark mercy going out to the Gentiles. Luke uses it for a different purpose.
- Word refused. Capernaum heard most and repented least. The town lifted high by privilege fell so far that no one can now find its site for certain.
And a certain centurion's bondman who was dear to him was ill and about to die;
A Roman officer's slave lies dying, and the officer hears that Jesus is nearby. Two questions follow. Why does a soldier care so much about a slave? And how far can the Lord's power reach?
The sick man is a slave, yet his master holds him dear. One writer ties that regard to the officer's respect for the Jewish people:
His slave was dear — yes, precious — to him, but sick and about to die. Yet the centurion did not present himself to the Lord. He came to Him only in the way a man is said to do himself what he does through others. He was no heathen. He honoured the Jewish people, low as they were, because God chose them and entrusted them with His oracles, the Scriptures.
He asks nothing for himself, and he asks as a man with no claim:
In this case, the centurion fully realized his place and asked only as an undeserving Gentile, not for himself, but for a servant who was dear to him. The Jews testified to the fine character of the centurion as one who loved the Jewish nation, even to the point of building a synagogue for them.
The word centurion names a rank in the Roman army, and how a man came to hold it:
An officer over about 100 men. They were promoted to this office because of their good conduct and trustworthiness. It is worth noting how often the Gospels and the Acts speak well of centurions.
Here grace reaches a man outside Israel. One writer marks the case as a turning point, not just another healing:
Here we have the case of the centurion, and a very full and striking one it is. It is not merely an act of grace, but grace to a Gentile. Nor is this all. It brings out the principle on which the apostle rests this question. "That is why it depends on faith, in order that the promise may rest on grace and be guaranteed to all his offspring." Faith comes in as the great turning point. It was no mere theory; it was living faith, and such faith as had not been seen in Israel.
One writer sets this faith beside what Jesus did the very next day:
Then we have the faith of a Gentile. He owns Christ's divine supremacy over all things, whether disease or distance here below. Nothing could be too great for Him. Jesus, the day after, proves His power over death.
The officer does not come himself. He sends elders of the Jews, and one writer calls this a mark of understanding:
The centurion took his place at once, and he pleads through the Jews. This is a beautiful instance of the intelligence of faith. He took his place as a Gentile, having no right to approach the Lord directly, but comes through His own nation. There is great beauty in an understanding lit up by the mind of Christ. He approached by the right door — he reached the Lord through the elders of the Jews.
The servant is not just ill. He is dying. And his master feels unfit either to welcome Jesus or to approach Him:
He was not worthy that the Lord should come, and neither did he think himself worthy to go to the Lord. How could mercy flow? Faith finds in every extremity the opportunity for grace worthy of God, and for the glory of such a One as Jesus. "But say the word, and let my servant be healed." So the "word," as we regularly find in Luke, has the leading place. The turning point is not the bodily presence even of the Messiah, but the word.
One writer turns from the centurion to the reader:
Dear reader, in all your deep need as a sinner, may repentance toward God be yours. That means taking sides with God against yourself. May faith toward our Lord Jesus Christ be yours too. That means bringing in God as He has been pleased to reveal Himself (Acts 20:21)… The One who met the centurion in his extremity is the only One who can meet you in yours. "Jesus Christ is the same yesterday and today and forever" (Heb. 13:8).
- Need. A slave dear to his master lies at the point of death; the whole account starts from a case with no human way out.
- Man. The one who cares is a Roman officer over about a hundred men — an outsider, and the kind of man Luke and Acts often speak well of.
- Humility. He asks for another, not for himself. He comes through the Jewish elders, taking the place of an outsider with no claim.
- Word. Jesus need not enter the house. In Luke the turning point is His word, not His bodily presence.
- Reach. Grace moves past Israel to one Gentile's dying servant. The same Lord still meets people at their worst moment.
and having heard of Jesus, he sent to him elders of the Jews, begging him that he might come and save his bondman.
A Roman officer wants Jesus to heal his sick servant. Rather than go himself, he sends Jewish elders to ask for him. That raises two questions: why does a Gentile soldier approach Christ through Israel's leaders, and why does Matthew's account say the man came in person?
The centurion acts on what he has heard. He has not seen Jesus. What people say about Him is enough to move him.
It seems he had not seen Jesus. But from what he "heard" he was sure of this: diseases were nothing to Him. They were only occasions for Him to display His absolute authority and His sovereign mercy.
Where did that report come from? One writer points to the Scriptures read aloud in the synagogue.
People read the word of God aloud in the synagogue, and it taught the centurion God's nature and ways. The Jews who listened learnt nothing of the kind. They felt no such need, and claimed that God's word belonged to them alone.
Matthew's account has the centurion come to Jesus himself. Luke has him send. One writer treats this as a matter of how people spoke, not a contradiction.
Abbott remarks that Matthew and Luke differ beyond reconciling. Matthew says that the man did come to Jesus. A member of the Burmese Commission has told me that a Burmese would speak the same way, unless Western magistrates had taught him otherwise. An Easterner calls himself the principal when he is only acting as an agent.
The two Gospels were written for different readers, and that shapes what each one records.
Matthew wrote his Gospel for the Jews, and nothing in it puffs them up. So his account of the centurion says nothing of the elders of the Jews, as Luke 7:3 does. Luke, the beloved physician, wrote for Gentiles. He fittingly gives the Jews their honoured place as God's people. At that time the wall dividing Jews and Gentiles had not yet been broken down.
His choice of messengers is deliberate. A Gentile could have gone straight to Jesus. This one goes by way of God's chosen people. One writer counts that choice a mark of faith, not a lack of it.
God had a people, and this Gentile owned them as God's own choice, despite their unworthiness. So if he wanted the blessing for his servant, he would send for the elders of the Jews to plead for him with Jesus. To me there seems far more faith here, and more of the lowliness that faith produces, than if he had gone in person and alone.
Another writer reads the same act as the man taking the place Scripture assigns him.
By sending the Jewish elders to intercede for him, the centurion showed that he accepted his place among those "alienated from the commonwealth of Israel and strangers to the covenants of promise" (Eph. 2:12).
He is not asking for himself. One writer sets this beside the healing of a leper, who came to Jesus about his own disease.
In the case of the leper it is personal faith, but in the case of the centurion it is the faith of one person for another.
Once the elders arrive, they plead the centurion's own kindness to them. Commentators differ on how to judge that plea. One sees it as the very thing grace cannot rest on:
The elders, true to their upbringing under the law, would have utterly spoiled grace by representing the centurion as worthy. His worthiness, according to them, consisted in his kindly attitude and acts towards themselves!
Another writer gives their judgment its due:
The elders were right in their sense of the Gentile's worth and religious feeling.
- Heard. He had not seen Jesus. What he heard in the synagogue was enough to convince him. Disease was no obstacle to Christ's authority and mercy.
- Sent. Matthew says he came; Luke says he sent. In Eastern speech a man calls himself the principal while acting through agents, so both are true.
- Honoured. He sent his appeal through Israel's elders because he owned that God had a people. One writer sees more faith in that, not less, than in going alone.
- Interceded. He pleads for his servant, not for himself. Here one person's faith works for another.
- Worthy? The elders pleaded his kindness to them. Commentators differ over that plea: one says it would have spoiled grace, another says they judged the man rightly.
But they, being come to Jesus, besought him diligently, saying, He is worthy to whom thou shouldest grant this,
A servant is dying, and his Roman master sends Jewish elders to Jesus instead of coming himself. Their plea rests on what the man deserves, which raises the question this story answers: on what basis does anyone receive anything from Christ?
The word for how they pleaded carries real pressure. One reference work lists its other uses in Scripture:
"Urgent," with persistent pleading. Luke 7:4; Luke 23:23; Acts 26:7; Rom. 12:12; 2 Tim. 4:2.
He sent men who took up his cause as their own:
Luke tells us how he first made known his desire. He sent the elders to Jesus, begging the Lord to come and heal (or, save) his servant, whose death seemed close at hand. The petitioner entrusted his cause to willing pleaders.
Sending a delegation could look like weak faith. One writer reads it the opposite way — as faith that refused to bypass the people God had chosen:
There was no proud claim of having to do only with God, and not with man. On the contrary, by turning to the Jewish elders and using them, he showed how truly he bowed to the ways and will of God. For God had a people, and this Gentile acknowledged them as God's own choice, despite their unworthiness. So when he wanted the blessing for his servant, he called on the Jewish elders to plead for him with Jesus. I see far more faith here, and more of the humility that faith produces, than if he had gone in person and alone.
Another writer sees the same move as faith thinking clearly about where a non-Jew stood:
The centurion took his place at once, and he pleads through the Jews. This is a beautiful instance of the intelligence of faith. He took his place as a Gentile, having no right to approach the Lord directly, but comes through His own nation... He approached by the right door — the elders of the Jews.
The elders argue that the man deserves it, and commentators differ on how to take that. One says their argument, if accepted, would have ruined grace:
The elders had been brought up under the law, and they spoke true to it. By presenting the centurion as worthy, they would have completely spoiled grace. In their eyes his worthiness lay in his kind attitude and kind acts towards themselves! ... They failed to see how their own law condemned them. Instead, they treated it as a special honour given to them, and they became self-centred. They made themselves, and the way they were treated, the standard for judging others. Judged by their standards this Gentile was a worthy man.
Another writer notes that he never came in person, and treats the elders' verdict as genuine:
The centurion did not come to the Lord in person. He is said to come only as people are said to do themselves what they do through others. He was no pagan. He honoured the Jewish people, low as they were, because God chose them and entrusted them with His words, the scriptures. So he loved their nation — a rare thing in a Roman officer — and he even built them their synagogue. He therefore sent elders of that people to the Lord, and they begged Him earnestly for a man they counted so worthy (just as rare a thing in a Jewish elder).
His kindness was real, but the Lord traced it back to its root:
The centurion himself said, "I am not worthy." But the Lord showed the people where his good deeds towards the Jews came from. They sprang from "great faith," such as He had not found in Israel (Matt. 8:8, 10).
His kindness also came long before he needed anything from them:
This was not a new feeling. He had loved them for a long time, and built them a synagogue back when he wanted nothing from them. Now they remember it.
Whatever the elders claimed for him, he never claimed it for himself. His later message takes back their whole argument:
He told Jesus nothing of his service to the Jews. He spoke of nothing personal except his unworthiness. He held to this so firmly that he begged Jesus not to come to his house, since he was unworthy to receive Him. This soul was the exact opposite of one who thinks he does Christ an honour by believing in Him.
- Urgent. The elders pushed hard. A man's servant was dying, and they took up his cause as their own.
- Humble. Sending others was not weak faith. It was faith that bowed to God's ways, coming by the right door instead of pushing forward alone.
- Worthy? The elders say he deserves it. Commentators differ: one sees a legal standard that would have spoiled grace; another sees real love for God's people behind their words.
- Rooted. His kindness to Israel was fruit, not payment. It grew out of faith, and he built the synagogue long before he needed a favour.
- Overturned. The centurion contradicts his own supporters. He mentions none of his services and calls himself unworthy — and that is where the Lord finds great faith.
for he loves our nation, and himself has built the synagogue for us.
The elders of Capernaum bring Jesus a case built on a Roman officer's record: he loves their nation, and he paid for their synagogue. Their plea raises the question the story then answers: does a good record move Jesus, or faith?
The centurion's love for the nation was not politeness toward the locals. He valued the Jews for what God had entrusted to them. That kind of gift was rare in a Roman officer.
He was no pagan. He honoured the Jew, however low they had sunk, because God chose them and entrusted them with His oracles — the scriptures. So he did what was rare in a Roman officer — he loved their nation, and even built them their synagogue.
The verse points to one particular building: the synagogue, not just a synagogue. Older translations read "a synagogue" here; the ESV has "our synagogue." Jesus had already taught and worked in that building.
They begged the Lord urgently, saying, "He is worthy for whom you should do this, for he loves our nation, and he has built us a [rather, the] synagogue" (Luke 7:4-5). The synagogue. It seems there was only one — the one where the Lord had already displayed His power (4:33), and where He so often taught.
Most synagogues came from the gifts of many people. His did not.
They were often built by gifts from the whole community. Sometimes a rich Jew paid for one, and in some cases a Gentile — like the one the centurion built at Capernaum. Luke 7:5.
The elders base their case on what the centurion did for them.
The elders were raised under the law, and true to that, they would have spoiled grace altogether by presenting the centurion as worthy. In their eyes his worthiness lay in his kind attitude and acts towards themselves! This was quite typical of the Jewish mind. Their own law condemned them, but they did not see it. They treated it instead as an honour given to them. They became self-centred. They made themselves, and the treatment given to themselves, the standard for others. Judged by their standards this Gentile was a worthy man.
The centurion later sent his own message through friends. Not one word of it repeated what the elders had said.
He told Jesus nothing of his service to the Jews. He spoke of nothing personal except his unworthiness. He held to this so steadily that he begged Jesus not to come to his house, since he was unworthy to receive Him. Some men think they do Christ an honour by believing on Him. In this soul there was the exact opposite. And he had no pretence of receiving Christ to set himself up. Sadly, both attitudes are often found elsewhere.
Sending the elders was not weak faith. It came from what he believed about God's people.
By appealing to the Jewish elders and using them, he shows how truly he bowed to the ways and will of God. For God had a people, and this Gentile acknowledged them as God's chosen, despite their unworthiness. So if he wanted the blessing for his servant, he would send for the elders of the Jews to plead for him with Jesus. To me this shows far more faith, and more of the humility that faith produces, than if he had gone himself and alone. The secret of his action was that he was a man not only of faith, but of faith-wrought humility.
People read the Scriptures aloud in the synagogue he paid for. That reading shaped him in a way it did not shape the others sitting there.
The word of God was read and heard in the synagogue, and it taught the centurion God's nature and ways. None of the Jews learned this. They listened with no such sense of need, and claimed the word as theirs alone. Not even in Israel, the Lord said, had He found such great faith.
- Honour. He loved the nation because God had chosen them and given them the Scriptures. He valued the Jews at their lowest for the sake of what God had given them.
- Gift. That honour became a building. A Roman officer paid for the one synagogue at Capernaum, where the Lord Himself taught.
- Worth. The elders called him worthy because he was kind to them. That makes them the standard, and it leaves no room for grace.
- Unworthy. The centurion never mentioned what he had done for the Jews. He spoke only of his unworthiness, and asked the Lord not to enter his house.
- Faith. Sending the elders ahead of him was humility, and that humility was faith at work. The word read in his own synagogue taught him more of God than it taught those who owned it — faith the Lord had not found even in Israel.
And Jesus went with them. But already, when he was not far from the house, the centurion sent to him friends, saying to him, Lord, do not trouble thyself, for I am not worthy that thou shouldest enter under my roof.
Jesus was already on the road when a second message reached Him, sent by friends this time. The man who had begged Him to come now asks Him to stop, and his reason overturns what the elders had said about him.
Notice the order. The Lord agreed to go, and that step toward him changed how the centurion saw himself. One writer also explains the word "worthy": it means fit or qualified.
I am not worthy — adequate or qualified — to have You come under my roof. The Lord's own grace offered to come and heal the servant. That grace awoke in his heart a deeper sense of the Lord and of himself. He saw in Jesus what made himself nothing. Yet the same sight encouraged him to lay his appeal for a dying slave at His feet.
The message is short, and what is missing from it says as much as what is in it. He had done real service for the Jews, and the elders had already told Jesus so. He sends none of that himself.
There was surely the deepest personal respect and affection. He may have been untaught in other things. Yet he felt deeply how excellent Christ's person was, and again his humility matched how much of that glory he saw. He told Jesus nothing of his service to the Jews. He said nothing about himself except that he was unworthy. He held to this so firmly that he begged Jesus not to come to his house, since he was unworthy to receive Him.
Two verdicts on the same man land within minutes. Commentators read the elders' side differently. For one, their recommendation ran against the whole principle of grace:
The elders were true to their upbringing under the law. By presenting the centurion as worthy, they would have completely spoiled grace. In their eyes, his worthiness lay in his kind attitude and his kind acts towards themselves!
Another traces the deeds the elders praised back to a deeper root:
The centurion was a Gentile. He asked the Lord for help to heal his servant, and the Jewish elders in Capernaum told the Lord that he was "worthy". The centurion himself said, "I am not worthy." But the Lord showed the people where the man's good deeds towards the Jews came from. They sprang from "great faith", such as He had not found in Israel.
He will not have Jesus come to him, and he will not go to Jesus. That seems to leave no route for help at all.
He was not worthy that the Lord should come, and neither did he think himself worthy to go to the Lord. How could mercy flow? Faith finds in every desperate situation an opportunity for grace worthy of God, and for the glory of such a One as Jesus. In Luke, as we often find, the "word" has the leading place. The turning point is not the bodily presence even of the Messiah, but the word... His coming to the spot was in no way necessary — His word was enough.
Stopping the Lord at the door was not a loss of nerve. Losing sight of himself is what let him see who was standing there.
He is not fit for Christ to come under his roof, but in this we already see the faith that moves him. With self out of the way, his sight becomes clear, and so he recognises in Him One whom all things serve. Yet He Himself has come to serve, and to serve such as have no worthiness — no fitness except in their need.
A crowd was following Jesus down that road. They heard a foreigner say what none of them had said.
The simplicity of his heart is as clear as his strong faith. There was no faith like it in Israel, and yet here it was, in a man who loved Israel. It was a lesson of grace, in every way, for the crowd that followed Jesus — and most surely for us too.
- Grace moves first. The Lord set out for the house before anyone was worthy of Him. That offered kindness woke the man to who Jesus was and who he was.
- Grace humbles. "Not worthy" means not fit, not qualified — and the humility grew in proportion to how much of Christ's glory he saw.
- Humility clears the view. With self out of sight, he saw One whom all things serve. And that One came to serve people whose only fitness is their need.
- Worthiness measured twice. The elders rated him by what he had done for them; he rated himself by Christ. Commentators differ: did their verdict spoil grace, or name the fruit of his faith?
- The word is enough. He blocked both doors: Christ must not come, and he dared not go. Faith turned that dead end into an opening for mercy — Christ need only speak the word.
Wherefore neither did I count myself worthy to come to thee. But say by a word and my servant shall be healed.
Commentary for this verse has not been generated yet.
For *I* also am a man placed under authority, having under myself soldiers, and I say to this [one], Go, and he goes; and to another, Come, and he comes; and to my bondman, Do this, and he does [it].
A Roman officer's servant is dying, and he sends word to Jesus that there is no need to come any further. He explains why in the only language he knows well: the chain of command he lives inside every day.
The centurion does not put himself on Christ's level. He reasons upward: from what his own word can do, to what a word from Christ can do.
His faith recognized that Jesus had the very same power, and indeed more. He himself was only a man under authority. Jesus, the perfectly dependent and obedient Man, could command all, always to the glory of God the Father. Even though he was under authority, he still had authority himself to order this man and that one, above all his own servant. All things were but servants to Jesus — all served God's glory through Him. He had only to speak the word: disease itself must obey.
How much authority did he actually hold? Not much — and that is part of the force of his reasoning.
He says, "I am a man" — not in, but under authority. He was a Roman captain over 200 men. He was a long way from being the head of the Imperial army. Even so, he had this power to order the soldiers under him. There is something very sweet about that. His argument is that the Lord had all the authority in Himself.
How can one Person be both under authority and over all? The centurion's own place in the army gave him the picture.
The centurion reasoned like this. He was himself a man subject to authority, yet he had authority over all those under him, and they would obey his commands. So he recognized the Lord as the One truly subject to the will of God, and yet the One who holds authority over creation. Even sickness would obey His command at once.
An officer's order does not need him to be standing there. That is what the centurion trusted, and his faith touches ours, because Christ is no longer here in person.
It was this that drew our Lord's commendation — his confidence in the power of His word when He was personally absent. Here is a principle that is vital to us at this present hour. Christ is not here; He has gone up to the Father's throne. But His Word is with us; in the Scriptures we may at all times hear His living voice.
What makes faith great in His eyes?
Some faith simply takes Him at His word, without reasonings, feelings or experiences. Our Lord calls that "great faith".
How did a Roman soldier come to know God better than those who had the Scriptures?
People read and heard the word of God in the synagogue. It taught the centurion God's nature and ways. The Jews who listened learned nothing of the kind: they had no such sense of need, and claimed God's word as their own private possession. Not even in Israel, the Lord said, had He found so great faith.
The verse also describes the soldier who takes the order. One writer sets that soldier beside Jonah.
This centurion understood authority through and through. If he said "Go!" there was no question about it: the soldier went. But when the Lord said "Go!" to Jonah, Jonah decided he would not go. The soldier did not dream of complaining that the way was too long, or too rough, or too dangerous, or that the time was not convenient. He did not suggest that he did not want to go, or that he was too busy with other work. No, the soldier understood authority, and went. When the Captain says "Go!", he goes.
- Authority reasoned — He argues from small to great. He is under orders, yet his men obey him. So the Lord's word must carry absolute power.
- Authority owned — What he sees in Christ is not rank handed down from above. It is authority held in Himself, by the One perfectly subject to God's will.
- Authority spoken — Christ did not need to be there. Disease obeys a command given at a distance, so the word alone is enough.
- Authority trusted — Faith that rests on what Christ says, and not on feelings or proofs, is what He calls great faith. He found it in an outsider who heard Scripture as a man in need.
- Authority obeyed — The verse cuts both ways. The chain of command that made his faith possible puts us in the soldier's place — the one who hears "Go!" and goes.
And Jesus hearing this wondered at him, and turning to the crowd following him said, I say to you, Not even in Israel have I found so great faith.
A Roman officer sends word that Jesus need not come to his house. A spoken order would be enough. Jesus answers with wonder. Two questions follow. What did Jesus hear in that message? And why was Israel the last place such faith turned up?
Two impossibilities meet in the man's message. He felt unfit to receive Jesus, and unfit to go to Him.
He was not worthy that the Lord should come, and he did not think himself worthy to go to the Lord either. How could mercy flow? Faith finds in every desperate situation the opportunity for grace worthy of God... So the "word," as we regularly find in Luke, holds first place. The turning point is not even the bodily presence of the Messiah, but the word. Jesus was man, but He was the vessel of divine power; He had only to say a word, and the servant would be healed.
Twice the Gospels record that Jesus marvelled, and the two occasions are opposites.
Scripture attributes wonder to the Lord here and in Mark 6:6 — there at unbelief, here at belief.
What He wondered at was not a talent the man produced from himself. The centurion had picked it up where Israel's own crowds heard the same words and gained nothing.
Can we wonder that the gracious Lord wondered? It was faith simple and strong, the fruit of divine grace. The word of God taught the centurion God's nature and ways, for people read it aloud in the synagogue. No Jew who listened learned the same. They felt no such sense of need, and claimed to own it all.
The word Jesus chose is about size. Yet the reason for that size lies outside the man himself.
The Greek word for "great" that the Lord uses here means great in size: this faith was not hemmed in by mere natural thought or feeling. Yet let us remember that the important reason for this was the Object of his faith, the glory of the person of the Son of God.
Nothing in the man's message pointed to himself. He had built a synagogue and loved the nation, yet he named neither. His faith had reached him secondhand, through what people said about Jesus.
He recognised the honour God had put upon His people. Though people despised them and they were failing badly, he still loved the nation and had built them a synagogue. His humility was genuine, for his faith went far beyond the faith of the men he honoured. So he had a very high grasp of the power and glory of Christ's person as divine, reaching far beyond Jewish thoughts... Faith always makes humble, because it exalts the object of faith. And note, his faith came by report, by hearing.
Jesus does not keep the remark to Himself. He turns to the crowd walking behind Him and lets them hear it.
He addressed the crowd with this remark. They learned grace toward the stranger from it, and yet they learned it in one who loved Israel.
This verdict is rare. One other person in the Gospels received it, and those closest to Jesus heard the opposite word.
The Lord called the woman's faith "great" (Matt. 15:25). He described only one other person in the Gospels the same way — the Roman centurion (Matt. 8:10; Luke 7:9). And note this: the same Discerner of hearts who called the faith of these two Gentiles "great" called the faith of the disciples, and of Peter, "little" (Matt. 8:26; Matt. 14:31).
Commentators also read the centurion as a model for anyone outside Israel who comes to Christ.
In this centurion we see a picture of Gentiles today brought into blessing by the pure grace of God. First, he recognised that God had chosen Israel as His special people, and he loves them instead of envying them. Second, he takes a place of complete unworthiness, with no claim on the Lord Jesus. Third, he gave the Lord His true place and honour: Son of Man, obedient to the authority of God, and Son of God with authority over all creation. This beautifully illustrates the right attitude for Gentiles as they receive the blessings of Christianity.
- Heard. His faith came by report, not by sight — he had never met Jesus, only heard of Him, and that was enough to build on.
- Humbled. Faith always makes humble, because it exalts its object. The man never mentioned the synagogue he built — only his unworthiness.
- Enlarged. "Great" means large — faith not fenced in by natural thought, and great because the Object was the Son of God.
- Wondered at. The Lord marvelled twice in the Gospels — once at unbelief, and here at belief in a Roman's message.
- Overheard. He said it out loud to the crowd behind Him. Israel learned grace toward the outsider — from an outsider who loved Israel.
And they who had been sent returning to the house found the bondman, who was ill, in good health.
The story ends without a crowd or a scene: messengers walk back into a house where a dying man is now well. Everything turned on what happened while they were away, and Jesus never came near the sickbed.
The centurion would not have Jesus come to him, and did not think he could go to Jesus himself. He asked for a word instead:
He was not worthy that the Lord should come, and he did not think himself worthy to go to the Lord. How could mercy flow? Faith finds in each extremity the opportunity for grace worthy of God. The turning point is not the bodily presence even of the Messiah, but the word. Jesus was man, but He was the vessel of divine power; therefore He had only to say a word, and his servant would be healed. His coming to the spot was in no way necessary — His word was enough… All things were only servants to Jesus. He had only to speak the word: disease itself must obey.
The messengers who had gone out to Jesus return to find the servant already well. One writer traces how the man's faith had grown:
His desire was granted. For those who were sent, returning to the house, found the servant well. How his faith had grown! At first, counting on the Lord's power, he had asked Him to come. Then he no doubt reflected that the Lord's presence was not needed for power to work. He also knew that he was not one of the favoured people. So he owned himself unworthy to receive such a guest, and was content to rely on the word of power. Nothing more was needed.
The centurion had served the Jewish people. When he sent his message to Jesus, he said nothing about it:
He told Jesus nothing of his service to the Jews, and spoke of nothing personal except his unworthiness. He was so consistent in this that he begged Jesus not to come to his house, since he was unworthy to receive Him. In this soul there was the exact opposite of doing Christ an honour by believing on Him. He made no pretence of receiving Christ to set himself up… The simplicity of his heart is as clear as his strong faith.
One writer reads the centurion as a picture of how people outside Israel come into blessing:
In this centurion we see a picture of Gentiles today brought into blessing by the pure grace of God. First, he recognised that God had chosen Israel as His special people by His own sovereign will. And He loves them rather than envying them. Secondly, he takes a place of complete unworthiness — he has no claim on the Lord Jesus. Then thirdly, he gave the Lord His true place and honour: both Son of Man, obedient to the authority of God, and Son of God in authority over all creation. The servant was healed at once, as the messengers found when they returned home.
Luke alone records that the man first approached Jesus through the Jewish elders. That detail checks any pride in non-Jewish readers:
If Matthew's warning was meant to humble Jewish pride, this detail added by Luke should be enough to deflate Gentile conceit. Are we not apt to forget that, as a matter of fact, we owe everything to the Jew? The Scriptures, the Saviour, the first preachers of Christianity, all came to us from within Israel.
The healing happened at a distance, and that distance is the point of application for readers who have never seen Jesus:
This is what drew our Lord's praise — his confidence in the power of His word while He was absent. We have here a principle that is vital to us at the present hour. Christ is not here, having gone up to the Father's throne. But His Word is with us. In the Scriptures we can hear His living voice at any time… On His Word we rest. It is our all, since He Himself is no longer with us.
The word Luke uses for the servant's recovery turns up again later in his Gospel:
The word translated here "be in health" is found in Luke 7:10 and 15:27, where the King James Version renders it "whole" and "safe and sound".
- Need. A servant was dying, and his master pressed no claim of his own — only a request for a word.
- Humility. The centurion said nothing of his service to the Jews. He called himself unworthy of a visit and asked only for a word.
- Word. Distance was no obstacle. Disease obeys His command, so He did not need to stand at the bedside.
- Reach. Blessing reached a Roman soldier who honoured Israel but claimed nothing from it. It is a picture of grace going out beyond that nation.
- Proof. The messengers came back and found the man well. On that same word, people who have never seen Christ rest today.