“Why do you call me ‘Lord, Lord,’ and not do what I tell you? Everyone who comes to me and hears my words and does them—I will show you what he is like.”
Luke 6:46–47
Jesus does not begin this teaching with architecture, storms, or collapse. He begins with a question-one that unsettles more than it instructs. Why do you call me Lord and not do what I say? The issue is not belief, nor even admiration. It is allegiance. Jesus is not critiquing ignorance; He is exposing distance between confession and obedience.
When He finally turns to the image of a house, the details are strikingly sparse. There is no description of beauty, size, or craftsmanship. No distinction between wealth or poverty. Both builders complete their work. Both houses stand. From the outside, nothing appears amiss. The difference is hidden beneath the surface, where no applause gathers and no comparison is possible. One builder digs. The other does not.
Luke tells us the wise builder dug down deep. That phrase matters. Rock is not found on the surface. Depth requires intention, patience, and effort. It delays progress. It slows visibility. It asks the builder to trust that what is unseen will one day matter more than what is admired. Sand, by contrast, is readily available. It feels stable enough-until it is asked to carry weight, to endure suffering, it was never capable to bear.
Then the storm comes. Not as punishment. Not as surprise. Not as retaliation. Simply as reality. Jesus does not moralize the storm or explain its timing. He assumes it. Rain, floods, and wind are part of life, not exceptions to it. And when they arrive, they do not create the outcome-they reveal it. What has been built does not suddenly become weak; it is shown to be what it always was.
The house on the rock still takes the beating. Obedience does not cancel pressure or pain. Faithfulness does not prevent hardship. But the foundation holds. The house remains-not because the builder was clever, but because he trusted Jesus enough to build slowly, deeply, and obediently.
Jesus ends His teaching here, not with inspiration but with inevitability. Foundations will be tested. Lives will be pressed. What is unseen will eventually speak. And when it does, the question will not be how impressive the structure was, but whether it was founded on something strong enough to endure.
The invitation is simple, but not easy: hear His words-and do them. Dig where others rush. Build where no one claps. Trust that faithfulness beneath the surface is never wasted.
Let’s pray:
Heavenly Father, teach us to value depth over speed, obedience over appearance, and faithfulness over approval. Give us courage to dig where it is hard and patience to build where progress feels slow. When storms come-and they will-let what You have formed beneath us hold. Establish our lives on what endures, so that what stands reflects You. In Jesus’ name, amen.
