The Two Sons

“The Two Sons: Words or Actions?”

Text: Matthew 21:28–32 Key Verse: Matthew 21:31 – “Which of the two did what his father wanted?” Theme: Jesus calls us from empty promises to real repentance and gospel-powered obedience.

“I’ll Pray for You” – But Do I?

You know how it goes. Someone shares a burden—maybe it’s a surgery coming up, a sick child, or a tough situation at work—and we say, “I’ll pray for you.” And in the moment, we really do mean it. But then what happens? Life picks up speed. We walk out of the room, get back in the car, head home, and by the time the next email lands in our inbox, that promise is already slipping into the fog of forgotten good intentions.

It’s not that we’re cruel. It’s not that we were lying. But our words outpaced our actions. We offered the right sound at the right time—something that felt godly—but the follow-through never came. No prayer. No intercession. Just another polite Christian platitude drifting away on the wind.

It shows up in other places too: telling our kids to be patient while losing our temper in traffic, signing up for church events and bailing, singing “Take my life…” on Sunday and ignoring our Bible by Tuesday.

We don’t intend to be hypocrites. But let’s call it what it is: our lives often preach a different sermon than our lips.

And that, dear friends, is exactly what Jesus exposes in this Parable —one that shows the difference between lip service and life service. It confronts the dangerous comfort of empty words and calls us to something deeper—something more real.

Jesus paints a picture of two sons—one who talks a big game but never shows up, and another who initially resists but eventually obeys. It's a story not just about them... but about us.

And if we’re honest, we’ve been both sons, haven’t we?

But thank God—that’s not the end of the story. Because where we have failed to follow through, Jesus has followed through to the cross. Where our words have fallen flat, His Word stands eternal. And where we have turned away, He turns hearts back through mercy and grace.

Let’s dive into this parable, not to beat ourselves up, but to be built up in Christ—because the good news is, even for the hypocrite, the forgetful, and the “I’ll pray for you—but I won’t” people, there is forgiveness, and there is transformation.

I. A Tale of Two Sons: Words vs. Obedience (Matthew 21:28–30)

Jesus doesn’t waste words. He paints the scene in plain terms—a father, two sons, and a vineyard command. The brilliance of Jesus' teaching is in its clarity—and its sting.

The first son responds with what we might call honest rebellion: “I will not.” It’s blunt. Disrespectful. He doesn’t even bother with pretense. He hears the father’s request and flatly refuses. But then something happens—Jesus says “he changed his mind” (literally: he repented). He goes. He does the work. He obeys—not immediately, not flawlessly—but eventually and truly.

The second son is the opposite. He says all the right things: “I go, sir.” Respectful. Polite. No substance. All lip service, no obedience. He talked the talk, but when it came to walking into the vineyard—rolling up his sleeves, sweating through the labor of his father’s will—he was nowhere to be found.

He’s aiming it directly at the spiritual elite. The Pharisees. The chief priests. The people who wore the religious garb, who prayed the loud prayers, who stood in the temple with their heads held high. They were, by every outward measurement, the “second son”—full of verbal reverence: “Yes, Lord!” But inwardly? Unwilling. Unchanged. Disobedient.

This parable is a mirror. It reflects back the uncomfortable truth that words—no matter how pious—mean nothing without obedience.

And let’s not fool ourselves—this isn’t just about the Pharisees. It’s about us. How often have we said “Amen” in worship but didn’t go work in the field? How often have we promised God change in a moment of guilt, only to go right back to comfort and convenience? How often have we heard God’s Word convict us and said, “Yes, I really should do that”—but then did absolutely nothing?

Obedience isn't about putting on a good face. It’s not about having the right answers or sounding spiritual. Jesus is saying, true faith shows up in what you do. Even if your initial reaction is stubbornness or fear or failure—what matters is that you go.

And remember, the first son said no—but then he repented. That’s key. Jesus isn’t looking for perfect performance; He’s looking for hearts that are willing to turn, change, follow. Repentance is the gateway to obedience. And in this parable, repentance trumps appearances.

So before we brush past this, we need to ask ourselves the uncomfortable question: Which son am I acting like today?

Because it’s not what we say on Sunday—it’s what we do with Monday through Saturday that shows whose will we’re really following.

II. The Law: The Danger of Saying “Yes” to God and Living “No” (Matthew 21:31–32)

Jesus delivers the gut punch of the parable. He looks the religious leaders square in the eye and says something that must have made their robes curl: “Truly I tell you, the tax collectors and the prostitutes are entering the kingdom of God ahead of you.”

The people everyone else had written off—the ones who said "no" to God with their lives, loud and clear—they are getting into the kingdom. Why? Because when they heard the call to repent, they did. When they heard God’s call to repent, they turned toward mercy.

Meanwhile, the Pharisees—religious professionals—kept up appearances. They looked clean, polished, reverent. But when God called them to repent, they stiffened their necks. When the Word told them to change, they hardened their hearts. When John called them to the water of repentance, they stayed bone dry. They said “yes” with their mouths, but “no” with their lives.

And let’s not kid ourselves: this isn’t just about ancient Pharisees. It’s about us—21st-century churchgoers who look the part. We know the hymns, the prayers, the creeds. We say, “Yes, Lord” on Sunday morning—but what about Monday?

This is the sharp edge of the Law: It shows us that it’s entirely possible to be religiously active and spiritually asleep. It’s possible to be morally clean but inwardly dead. It’s possible to say the right words and still be lost.

This is why James warns us, “Be doers of the Word, not hearers only, deceiving yourselves” (James 1:22). Because self-deception is the most dangerous kind of deception. When we nod along to God’s Word but never let it change us, we’re not just disobedient—we're delusional. We start to believe our own press. We think church attendance is obedience. We think religious performance is repentance. We think nodding is the same as following.

But God isn’t fooled by polished performances. He sees the hidden corners of the heart.

And He calls it what it is: sin. Hypocrisy. Rebellion in religious robes. This is the Law doing its work—exposing us. Stripping away our excuses. Burning down the illusion of self-righteousness so we finally see the truth:

We are the son who said “yes” and didn’t go. We are the ones who need to repent.

But the good news is—Jesus didn’t tell this parable just to condemn. He tells it to awaken. To call sinners—yes, even religious ones—back to the vineyard. There’s more to come…

III. The Gospel: Real Repentance is a Gift of Grace (Ezekiel 18:25–32)

And now we come to the heart of the matter—grace. Not performance, not appearances, not spiritual resumes—but grace.

Jesus didn’t tell this parable just to scold the Pharisees or embarrass the priests. He told it to invite them—and us—to something better. To repentance. To life. To the Father’s vineyard, not as workers earning a wage, but as sons living in His grace.

In Ezekiel 18, God speaks through the prophet with a voice of divine longing. “Do I take any pleasure in the death of the wicked? … Rather, am I not pleased when they turn from their ways and live?” (v. 23). And again: “Repent and live!” (v. 32). This is not the God of gotchas, waiting to pounce when you stumble. This is the God who pursues you when you run. The God who pleads with you when your heart grows hard. The God who invites—not demands—but invites repentance. Why? Because He wants you to live.

This is stunning. Because both sons in the parable messed up. One rebelled openly, the other privately. One said “no” with his mouth, the other with his life. And we’ve all been both. We’ve stood defiant and said, “I don’t want to.” We’ve put on a religious smile and said, “Yes, Lord,” while planning to go our own way the moment the service ends.

But here’s the gospel truth: Jesus came for both kinds of sons.

He came for the prodigals and the pretenders. He came for those who wandered far and those who sat in church pews with cold hearts. He came for those with stained pasts and those with plastic smiles. He came for us.

And Jesus did more than just tell a better parable—He lived it. He is the only Son who ever said “Yes” to the Father and truly obeyed. He didn’t just go into the vineyard; He went to the cross. He worked not for wages but for your salvation. He took upon Himself every broken promise we’ve made, every time we said the right thing and did the wrong thing, every moment of religious pride and spiritual laziness. He bore it all.

And in return, He gives you His obedience. His perfect "yes." His righteousness. That’s grace.

But He doesn’t stop there. He also gives you repentance. Real repentance isn’t something you conjure up by sheer willpower. You don’t grit your teeth and force your heart to change. No—repentance is a gift. A miracle of the Holy Spirit. A transformation that begins at the cross and keeps working in your life every single day.

God doesn’t just forgive your sin—He reshapes your desires. He gives you a new heart. A heart that wants to say “yes” and actually mean it. A heart that wants to walk with the Father, not to earn His approval, but because you already have it in Christ.

So, repent and live—not because you’re afraid, but because you’re loved. Not because you're trying to fix yourself, but because Jesus already has.

The vineyard awaits.

And that’s the invitation—grace that forgives, grace that transforms, grace that calls you into the vineyard, not as a hired hand trying to measure up, but as a beloved child already welcomed. This is where James’ words meet Jesus’ parable—because grace doesn’t just pardon, it produces. It doesn’t just erase the past, it empowers a new way of living.

IV. Grace That Offends, Obedience That Flows (James 1:22–27)

We talked in our parable last week, how Grace is offensive.

It offends our sense of fairness. It offends our pride. It offends our inner scorekeeper who wants to tally up who’s worthy and who isn’t. But the cross of Jesus turns all of that upside down.

The religious leaders in Jesus’ parable couldn’t handle the idea that tax collectors and prostitutes were entering the kingdom before them. Why? Because grace offends those who think they’ve earned something.

But isn’t that the beauty of the Gospel?

It’s not about who said the right things. It’s not about who cleaned themselves up best. It’s not about who had the longest religious résumé. It’s about who turned—who repented—and who trusted the Son who obeyed perfectly in their place.

Paul said it plainly in 1 Corinthians 1:18:

“The message of the cross is foolishness to those who are perishing, but to us who are being saved it is the power of God.”

The world sees grace as unfair. Christianity gives the advantage to sinners, the broken, the ones who admit they’ve said the wrong things and done worse. The world cries out, “That’s not fair!” And the Gospel smiles back and says, “Exactly.”

Grace isn’t fair—it’s better than fair.

Grace doesn’t reward the worthy. It redeems the unworthy.

And when that grace grabs your heart, it changes everything. James wasn’t calling us to fake it until we make it. He was saying: If the Word has really taken root in you—if the implanted Word has saved your soul—then it will show in your life.

You’ll stop playing the game of appearances and start walking in the Spirit—because the Son of God has walked into your vineyard and done the work you could never do.

So…which son are you?

Truth is, we’ve all been both. We’ve all said the right thing and done the wrong thing. We’ve all rebelled and resisted. But Jesus, the true Son, said “Yes” to the Father’s will and followed through—all the way to the cross—for you.

And because of Him, your disobedience is forgiven. Your half-heartedness is covered. Your failures are nailed to the cross and buried in the tomb.

You are not saved by your obedience. You are saved by His.

And now, in Him, you are no longer a son who said “no.” You are no longer a daughter who said “yes” and forgot to follow through. You are a beloved child of the Father—redeemed, forgiven, and set free to live a new life.

Not perfection, but direction.

Not earning, but responding.

Not “try harder”—but “Christ has done it all.”

Growing in His grace. Living in His mercy. Bearing fruit for you are His.

Amen.

Closing Prayer:

Merciful Father, we admit how often our words say one thing but our actions say another. We promise to obey, yet we falter. Thank You for Jesus, Your obedient Son, who lived perfectly and died in our place to cover all our failures with grace.

By Your Spirit, change our hearts so we not only hear Your Word but live it out in love and faithfulness. Let our lives reflect the mercy we have received, not to earn Your favor, but because You have already saved us.

Keep us close to the cross when we stumble, and lead us to be faithful workers in Your vineyard, trusting always in Your grace.

In Jesus’ name we pray, Amen.