October 25, 2026 - Reformation Sunday: Compassion: Whatever is Commendable

October 25, 2026 Reformation Sunday 
Ladue Chapel Presbyterian Church
Philippians 4:8-9Matthew 8:5-13 
“Compassion: Whatever is Commendable”
Melissa K. Smith

Have you ever played I Spy with a child? Growing up, I would play with my siblings on long car rides, and it was easy—we were looking at the same scenery in similar ways. But when I was older and playing I Spy with younger cousins and church family, it became a very different and challenging game. I learned that I had to figure out how the younger, shorter, more creative friend was seeing their world—and only then would I have a fighting chance to play the game.

If we were to play right now and I said, “I spy something that is brown…” What would you think it could be?

From your perspective, it could be the baptismal font, the organ, maybe the chair next to Nikki in the choir. But from the pulpit’s perspective—and the choir’s perspective—it could be the Celtic cross that Mark Vago made that hangs in the balcony.

The funny thing about I Spy is that we can all look at the very same room and see completely different things. One person notices the flowers. Another notices the windows. Someone else notices the person who just walked in.

We all have our own ways of seeing the world. We notice certain things, and we overlook others. Sometimes we see what we expect to see. And sometimes, if we are honest, we are very good at spotting what is wrong. We notice the person who made a mistake, the comment that offended us, or the person who does not quite fit our expectations. It can be much harder to notice what is good.

And that brings us to our next word in our sermon series on compassion. This morning we are looking at: Whatever is commendable.  To be commendable means to be worthy of praise, approval, or recognition. Something commendable is something worth pointing out—not because it is perfect, but because it reflects goodness.

Think about the people in your life whom you admire. What makes them commendable? Perhaps it is their kindness, humility, generosity, or the way they show up when someone needs them. Perhaps it is their willingness to listen, to admit when they are wrong, or to do the right thing when no one is watching.

In Philippians 4:8, Paul writes, “Whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is pleasing, whatever is commendable … think about these things.”

Paul invites us to direct our attention toward what is good and worthy of recognition. Not because everything in the world is good, and not because we should ignore what is broken, but because what we choose to notice shapes what we value—and what we value shapes how we live.

In our Gospel reading this morning, Jesus recognizes something commendable in an unexpected person: the faith of a centurion.

A centurion was a military officer in the Roman army. In Galilee, a Roman officer was an outsider, a supporter of the oppressor, and a Gentile, a non-Jew. We can imagine how surprising it would have been for Jesus’ listeners to hear him commend such a man’s faith.
The centurion said to Jesus, “Lord, my servant is lying at home paralyzed, in terrible distress.” And Jesus immediately said, “I will come and cure him.” The centurion responds, “Lord, I am not worthy to have you come under my roof, but only speak the word, and my servant will be healed.”

He then explains his rank and authority, showing that he understands authority deeply. And that makes his statement of humility—that he is not worthy of Jesus entering his home—all the more profound. The centurion is not throwing around his power or demanding anything of Jesus. Rather, he is expressing significant belief in the power of Jesus’ Word.

“Only say the word, and my servant shall be healed.”

Today is Reformation Sunday, and every year on the last Sunday of October, we remember the movement that called the church to look again at what it believed and why. The Reformers wanted people to hear the good news of the gospel clearly: that we are saved by God’s grace, through faith, and that Scripture—the Word of God—bears witness to this promise.

The Reformation was, in many ways, a movement about learning to listen again and seeing Scripture through a renewed lens—to return to the Word of God and trust the promise it proclaims.

Theologian Dale Bruner says in his commentary on the passage of the centurion, “Wherever faith in Jesus’ simple Word begins to occur across a culture, reformation happens there.” He then quotes Gerhard Ebeling, a German Lutheran theologian, who asked why Luther’s Reformation became a reformation in deed and not just in words. Ebeling’s answer was that Luther trusted only in the Word and not at all in deeds.

Luther fiercely spoke against the idea that good works alone led to salvation. That missed the point of the Gospel. Luther was not saying that good works do not matter. He was challenging the idea that our good works can earn God’s grace. We do not serve our neighbors in order to make ourselves worthy of God’s love. We serve because we have already received that love as a gift. And when we trust that grace, it changes us. We become freer to serve without seeking recognition, to love without keeping score, and to show compassion without first deciding whether someone deserves it.

That is what makes the centurion’s faith such a fitting story for Reformation Sunday. He trusts the Word, and his trust moves him toward another person’s suffering. His faith is not a way of earning God’s favor. It is a posture of humility and trust that opens him to the power of Christ.

The centurion trusts that Jesus’ Word is sufficient. Luther trusts that God’s Word is sufficient to proclaim the grace we cannot earn. And we, as people who gather around that Word, are called to let it shape not only what we believe, but how we see and treat the people around us.

Jesus recognizes faith in a man whom others might have regarded primarily as an outsider, an agent of Rome, or an opponent. He challenges his listeners—and us—to see what is commendable where we might not have expected to find it.

The Reformation changed the church because people were willing to question what had become familiar and rediscover truths they believed had been obscured. But reform is not only about correcting what is wrong. It is also about recognizing where God is already at work, sometimes in places we would never have thought to look.

We often expect God to work through the people we know, the traditions we cherish, and the communities where we feel most comfortable. And certainly, God works through those things. But the centurion reminds us that God’s work cannot be confined to the boundaries we draw.

Sometimes the person who challenges our assumptions has something important to teach us. Sometimes the person outside our community demonstrates a faithfulness we need to recognize. Sometimes the person we have overlooked becomes an example of the very thing we claim to value.

This is not a call to abandon our convictions. It is a call to hold them with enough humility that we remain attentive to God’s work beyond our expectations.

It is also a call to examine the church itself.

Do our traditions help people encounter the grace of God, or have we become so attached to them that we mistake the tradition for the gospel? Do our words reflect the compassion of Christ, or do they make it harder for others to hear the good news? Do we welcome the people God sends our way, or do we unconsciously expect them to become like us before we recognize the gifts they bring?

Reformation Sunday reminds us that asking difficult questions can be an act of faithfulness. The church is always in need of reform—not because everything it does is wrong, but because it belongs to a God whose grace is greater than our habits, whose love exceeds our boundaries, and whose work continues beyond what we can see.

And that brings us back to Paul’s words.

Whatever is commendable.

It is easy to celebrate goodness when it comes from people we already admire. But what happens when goodness appears somewhere unexpected? Can we name the good we see, even when doing so requires us to reconsider our assumptions? Can we learn from someone whose experience is different from ours?

Compassion is not pretending that injustice does not exist. It is refusing to let our judgments prevent us from recognizing another person’s humanity or responding to genuine need.

The most faithful communities are those that can hold two things together: the courage to challenge what is harmful and the humility to recognize what is good.
The centurion’s story reminds us that we do not get to decide in advance where faith will appear. He gives us a beautiful expression of that trust: “Only say the word.” He does not claim to be worthy. He does not demand control. He trusts that Jesus can do what he cannot.

And Jesus recognizes something commendable in him.

Perhaps that is the invitation for us this week: to trust the Word enough to let it change us. To listen when Scripture calls us to love our neighbors. To remain humble enough to learn from people we might otherwise overlook. And to recognize that God’s grace is not something we earn, but a gift that frees us to live with greater compassion.

So let us play a different kind of I Spy this week.

Let us look for goodness. Let us name what is commendable. Let us listen for God’s Word, trusting that it can continue to reform our hearts and our community.

May we remember the centurion’s words:
“Only say the word.”
Only say the word, and open our eyes.
Only say the word, and reform our hearts.
Only say the word, and teach us to see our neighbors with compassion.
Only say the word, and make us people whose lives reflect the grace we have received.

For the Word we trust is the Word that calls us to see differently, love generously, and live faithfully.

Thanks be to God. Amen.