The dynamite that takes you from aha to wow is trust — and trust is built by consistently putting other people's honor first.
Central Image
The mountain pass: you don't have to wait for summer or hope you find one — honor people consistently and the trust it builds makes your own pass.
The Turn
The assumption is that faith is what you believe; Jesus looked at a soldier's description of a chain of command and said that's exactly what faith is.
Outline
Aha vs. Wow
Toby grew up in Oklahoma where the biggest mountain is a thousand feet and slopes like a dirt hill. He was taught theoretically that pioneers needed a pass through the Cascades to go west. Then he moved to Washington State, saw glaciers that don't melt, and stood next to an eight-foot snowpack on June 6th. That's the gap between aha and wow — not wrong information, just information that hasn't become experience yet. The sermon is about what blows through that gap.
Luke 7:1-10
Jesus has just finished Luke's version of the Sermon on the Mount — the new sheriff in town laying out how things are going to work. Now he's in Capernaum. A centurion's slave is near death. Luke notes specifically that the centurion honors him — unusual language for a slave relationship, since slaves by definition don't have honor. The centurion sends Jewish town elders to ask Jesus to come. They say he's worthy: he loves the people and built their synagogue. Jesus heads over. Before he arrives, the centurion sends friends with a message: don't come inside — I'm not worthy to have you under my roof, which is why I didn't come in person. Just say the word where you are. I know how authority works. Jesus is stopped in his tracks. This is the only moment so far in Luke where someone shocks Jesus; up to now it always ran the other direction.
What Stands in the Way
Between a Roman centurion and a traveling Jewish healer in occupied Israel, the obstacles stack: honor/shame dynamics (what happens to his standing if the rabbi says no publicly?), race, religion, the politics of military occupation, and the reciprocity protocols that governed the entire Mediterranean gift economy — receive a favor from a powerful person and you're on the hook indefinitely, like the opening scene of The Godfather. Any one of these should have ended the story before it started.
The Dynamite
Something blows through all of it. Every active character in the story honors someone else above themselves: the Jewish elders honor the centurion, the centurion honors his slave, the centurion honors Jesus, Jesus turns to the crowd and publicly honors the centurion. Nobody grabs for position. The entire thing moves on people voluntarily putting others first — and that chain is what opens the door for something remarkable to happen, including for the Son of God to get a wow.
Authority Is Trust
The centurion described military authority — "I say go and he goes, I say come and he comes" — and Jesus called it faith. The connection: in combat, authority isn't rank, it's trust. When you give an order and lives depend on whether it gets followed, and when your own life depends on doing what the person above you says, that's a web of relational trust. The centurion talks authority; Jesus hears faith. They're the same thing. And when the centurion says "just say the word," he's putting Jesus in a category no human healer in the ancient world occupied — the one who heals from a distance, beyond any normal reach.
Papa
Toby's grandfather: a WWII Marine, his oldest grandkid. At what was probably their last big family dinner together, all the grandsons waited on him constantly — if he even glanced toward something, one of them was already moving. A family member asked why everyone was waiting on him and not anyone else. Nobody answered, because the answer was obvious and saying it would have ruined the moment: because he had always honored them, each one individually, in ways none of them had earned. They would walk through fire for him. He never said the gushy things; every word he said carried all of it anyway. Toby's goal isn't to be waited on at ninety — it's to be the kind of person who treated people well enough that they want to.
The Red Sea
If the Israelites at the Red Sea had turned around and gone back to Egypt, they don't get the wow. You have to stand there. If we don't trust God enough to hold our ground when the moment comes, we walk away from every chance to get one. Toby's line: obedience gets you wows — and some of us are educated far beyond our obedience.
The Landing
Be a person of honor and integrity who consistently puts other people's well-being above your own — that builds trust, and trust blows the mountain open. You don't have to find a pass or wait for summer. You make it.
Questions to Think About
- Toby grew up in Oklahoma thinking mountains were basically dirt hills, then moved to Washington and saw glaciers still covering the road in June. When did you run into something you thought you understood but found out you only had the aha and not the wow?
- Every active character in this story goes out of their way to honor someone else — the Jewish elders honor the centurion, the centurion honors his slave and then Jesus, Jesus honors the centurion back. Why do you think Luke told the story that way?
- The centurion explained himself in terms of military authority — "I say go and he goes." Jesus heard that as faith. What's the connection between those two things?
- The centurion honored his slave — someone who by definition had no honor — and it cost him something socially to do it publicly. Who is it hardest for you to honor, and what does it cost you?
- Toby said trust is built by consistently putting someone else's honor and well-being before your own. Think about the relationship in your life where trust is thinnest right now — who's been doing the honoring in that relationship, and who hasn't?
- Toby said at the end that "obedience gets you wows" and that some of us are educated far beyond our obedience. What's the thing you already know you're supposed to do — your Red Sea moment — that you keep walking away from?
- The pass gets dynamited in this story not by one great person doing everything right, but by a whole chain of people honoring each other. What would it actually take for this church to be that kind of community?
- Before next Sunday: identify one person in your life you've been honoring less than they deserve, and say one specific true thing to them directly — not about them to someone else — that you've been sitting on.