Introduction – Regrets at the Graveside
Not long after burying his wife, a man said to me, “The best years of my life are over. I’ve made too many mistakes. I’d give anything to live them again, but it’s gone forever. Should I bother beginning now?”
His words were heavy with regret. Years of arguments that once seemed small had piled up into mountains. Words left unsaid now echoed louder than the words that were spoken. Love that could have been given was withheld, and now the chance was gone. Standing at the graveside, he saw clearly what he had missed—and it broke him.
Life, for him, had become a review of opportunities missed and regrets accumulated. Gone were the plans, gone were the hopes. What’s left?
And maybe you know that feeling too. Maybe you’ve looked back over your own life and thought, “If only I could rewind… If only I could do it again.” The older we get, the more life can feel like a scrapbook of missed chances. And we wonder: Is it too late for me? Too late to start fresh? Too late for God to use what’s left of my life?
Lewis Carroll captured that fear in Alice in Wonderland. Remember the White Rabbit? Always running, clutching his watch, muttering, “I’m late! I’m late! For a very important date!” That frantic fear—that time is slipping away, that we’ve missed our chance—isn’t just a children’s story. It’s the cry of the human heart.
But Jesus told a story that turns that fear upside down.
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The Vineyard Parable – Grace at the Eleventh Hour (Matthew 20:1–16)
The kingdom of heaven, Jesus said, is like a landowner who went out early in the morning to hire men to work in his vineyard. They agreed on a wage—a denarius for the day—and off they went.
At nine o’clock he went back and hired more. At noon, at three, and even at five o’clock—just one hour before sunset—he found men still standing idle and said, “You also go into my vineyard.”
Then came evening. Payday. And to everyone’s astonishment, the men who worked one hour received the same as the men who worked twelve.
The early workers grumbled: “Unfair! We bore the burden of the day!” But the landowner said, “Friend, I am not being unfair to you… Are you envious because I am generous?”
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Movement One – God Welcomes Even the Latecomer
If we ran the vineyard, the pay scale would be strict: more hours, more wages. But Jesus shows us that God doesn’t reward by seniority.
This is good news. Because if eternity were earned by years of service, what hope would there be for the young believer who dies early? Or for the one who comes to Christ at the sunset of life?
The truth is: God’s generosity outruns our sense of fairness. And when it comes to salvation, you don’t want fairness—you want grace.
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Movement Two – Serving from Gratitude, Not Bargaining
When I was in college, I studied Greek by correspondence. I realized that if I scored 92%, I could still earn an A. That meant I could leave 8% of the questions blank. And for a while, that’s what I did—until my instructor wrote in the margin: “Do all the work.”
Isn’t that like the vineyard workers who haggled over a contract? They wanted to know the fine print before they would lift a finger. Too many of us serve God that way: “How much do I have to give? What’s the minimum required?”
But the later workers didn’t bargain. They trusted the landowner to do right. And that’s what God looks for: not calculation, but gratitude. Not minimum effort, but willing hearts.
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Movement Three – The Joy of Serving Is the Reward
The first group thought the reward was the pay. The others discovered the reward was the privilege of being in the vineyard at all.
Friend, that’s the heart of discipleship. To serve Christ out of sheer appreciation for His grace. To discover that working for Him is reward enough. Yes, crowns are promised. Yes, heaven is real. But the deepest joy is this: we belong to Him, and He lets us serve in His vineyard.
The one who worked all day isn’t cheated. The one who comes late is blessed. Because in the end, both discover the same truth: the reward is worthy.
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Conclusion – Bob’s Story, Our Hope
Recently I stood in Arlington National Cemetery. My brother, Bob, is buried there. He fought in Vietnam, and like too many who returned from that war, he carried wounds inside that most never saw. When his life ended, he died alone.
Walking among the endless rows of white stones, I realized how quickly names fade from the memory of men. A soldier, a brother, a son — soon, just a name etched in marble. Unknown to most. Forgotten by many. But not by God. God knew Bob. God knows you. He never forgets.
And maybe you feel like Bob, or like that grieving husband I told you about. Life has become a review of opportunities missed and regrets accumulated. Gone are the plans. Gone are the hopes. You whisper, “What’s left?”
Here is the answer: God is still hiring. Even at the eleventh hour, He welcomes you into His vineyard. The tragedy is not that you come late. The tragedy is if you never come at all.
So don’t stand idle in the marketplace of regret. Don’t say, “It’s too late for me.” Step into His vineyard while there is still time. Because the Landowner is generous. The call is real. The grace is greater. And with Him—
it is never too late. The reward is worthy.
