Father of a Murdered Son

Here’s why judgment won’t surprise anyone who’s paying attention.

Every father knows how he would respond if the life of his child were taken by violence. There would be wrath—a fierce pursuit of justice—until the guilty party was punished. That makes perfect sense. We understand that. We sympathize with that. Unless, of course, we don’t love our children.

Jesus calls us to consider this very situation in Luke 20. And in His telling, He exposes just how far God’s patience has been pushed and how shameless people can get before divine judgment finally kicks down the door.

A man planted a vineyard and rented it out to vine-growers, and went on a journey for a long time. At the harvest time he sent a slave to the vine-growers, so that they would give him some of the produce of the vineyard; but the vine-growers beat him and sent him away empty-handed. — Luke 20:9–10

We’re introduced to a man who is evidently wealthy and renting out his property to some tenants (vine-growers). Jesus is using a metaphor and imagery that would’ve immediately resonated with His audience. Why? Because on more than one occasion the prophets described God’s people as a vine or vineyard:

For the vineyard of the Lord of hosts is the house of Israel and the men of Judah His delightful plant. Thus He looked for justice, but behold, bloodshed; for righteousness, but behold, a cry of distress. — Isaiah 5:7

The prophet Jeremiah indicts the people using the same terms:

Yet I planted you a choice vine, a completely faithful seed. How then have you turned yourself before Me Into the degenerate shoots of a foreign vine? — Jeremiah 2:21

Read those texts in their entirety for a fuller, richer understanding of Jesus’ words. God blessed you, cultivated you, waited for you to bear fruit—and what did you give Him? Rebellion. Bloodshed. Corruption. You acted like squatters who thought they could kill the landlord and keep the place.

That wasn’t a one-off. Jesus says it happened again. And again. And again. Each time the tenants ramp up the violence. They’re not just disrespectful—they’re animals. And the landowner? He keeps sending servants (vv. 11-12). Why?

God is patient and gracious beyond anything the house of Israel—or we—deserve. Through the years He continued to send His prophets, His servants, to an obstinate, disobedient, ungrateful people. How many of us would continue to send servants after witnessing the treatment the first one received? He kept sending prophets to a nation that spit in His face. He didn’t owe them another warning—but He gave it. Over and over.

Jesus lamented Israel’s foul treatment and rejection not only of Himself, but of all the prophets mistreated through the years:

O Jerusalem, Jerusalem, who kills the prophets and stones those sent to her! How often I have longed to gather your children together, as a hen gathers her chicks under her wings, but you were unwilling! — Matthew 23:37

After Jesus’ resurrection and ascension, His disciple Stephen would also charge his audience:

Was there ever a prophet your ancestors did not persecute? They even killed those who predicted the coming of the Righteous One. And now you have betrayed and murdered him. — Acts 7:52

Israel wasn’t a misunderstood nation of spiritual seekers. They were serial-killers. And now they were planning to execute the Son.

These are exactly the events we find in the parable Jesus tells just days before His crucifixion. As the parable continues, the landowner reasons that if he sends his son, perhaps the vine-growers will finally pay attention and render what is due: “Perhaps they will respect him.” But look at verse 13 carefully—the landowner doesn’t just say “son.” He says, “I will send my beloved son...”

The Father is indeed “compassionate and gracious, slow to anger, and abounding in love” (Ps. 103:8). But given the pattern of hostility so far, what earthly father would send his beloved son into the hands of violent criminals? This is a surprising decision—but the landowner has His reasons.

Predictably, the tenants don’t show respect. They see an opportunity to seize power. “This is the heir; let us kill him so that the inheritance will be ours.” So they throw him out of the vineyard and kill him (v. 15).

Jesus then delivers the punchline: “What then will the owner of the vineyard do to them? He will come and destroy those vine-growers and will give the vineyard to others.” (vv. 15–16). As mentioned at the outset, this is a perfectly reasonable response. It’s just. It’s right. And we understand it—because we’d react the same way. The Father is patient, loving, and gracious—but those who reject His Son will face His wrath. They have no place in His vineyard, no share in His inheritance.

And the crowd? Oh, they don’t like it. “May it never be!” they cry. Of course they object—because He just told them they’re the villains in the story. They’re the rebels. The murderers. The ones about to crucify the Son of God and then act like they're still entitled to His Kingdom.

The Jews prided themselves on being Yahweh’s vineyard—or His vine-growers, depending on the metaphor. If you could have seen the temple in Jesus’ day, you’d see how deeply this image was embedded in their identity. The historian Josephus writes:

The gate opening... had, moreover, above it those golden vines, from which depended grape clusters as tall as a man; and it had golden doors. — War 5.207; Ant. 15.391

The vine was Israel’s national symbol. Like the bald eagle for Americans, the grapevine was iconic, deeply meaningful, and culturally defining. Jesus invoked that very symbol in another context: “I am the vine, you are the branches...” (Jn. 15).

So when Jesus says the owner “will give the vineyard to others,” His audience is scandalized. That’s why they say, “May it never be!”

And let’s be honest—people today would react the same way. Tell the average churchgoer or religious influencer that God is going to hand the Kingdom to someone else because they rejected His Son? They're likely to jeer and laugh to scorn. Many want religion without repentance, and grace without obedience. They want the benefits of the vineyard without acknowledging the rightful Heir.

But Jesus doesn’t back down. He doubles down:

He looked at them and said, "What then is this that is written:
'The stone which the builders rejected,
 This became the chief cornerstone? 
Everyone who falls on that stone will be broken to pieces;
 but on whomever it falls, it will scatter him like dust.'” — Luke 20:17–18

In other words: Yes, it will be so. Yes, you will be rejected. Yes, you will be crushed—by the very One you rejected and killed.

The Kingdom doesn’t belong to the proud, the elite, the heritage-obsessed, or the self-righteous. It belongs to those who recognize the Son, repent, and obey.

Herein is the Gospel—the good news: even though you and I have no right or claim to the vineyard, even though it was our sin that led to the Son’s murder, by the grace of God we can still find a home in that vineyard and be named co-heirs with the Son Himself (1 Jn. 3:1; Rom. 8:17).

That, friends, is very good news. Surprising news—from a Man our sins murdered. Matchless grace—from the Father who sent Him.

But if we refuse His offer—if we reject His mercy and disobey—then we, too, will be crushed. And when we stand before the Father of a murdered Son, that judgment won’t be surprising at all. It will be just.