Jesus didn’t explain his stories.
He just told them.
And then he stopped.
A man had two sons…
A woman lost a coin…
The kingdom is like a seed…
There was no moral at the end.
No three-point lesson.
No “what this means is…”
Just the story.
And if you were listening with your life,
you’d feel the truth inside it.
In the parable of the prodigal son,
Jesus doesn’t say which son was right.
He doesn’t explain the father’s actions.
He just ends the story mid-embrace.
In the parable of the workers in the vineyard,
everyone gets paid the same, no matter when they arrived.
Jesus doesn’t explain fairness.
He just asks, “Are you envious because I am generous?”
In the parable of the sower,
he speaks of seed and soil,
and then says, “Let anyone with ears hear.”
No breakdown. No clarity.
Only the invitation to pay attention.
He never defines grace.
He just shows it—again and again.
Grace as forgiveness.
Grace as generosity.
Grace as presence.
Grace as seed.
Grace as return.
And at the center of every story is the same call:
Love without boundaries.
Forgiveness without limits.
Kindness without expectations.
And if you can recognize it,
then it’s not just a parable anymore—
it’s a mirror.
The stories were the sermons.
Not because they explained truth,
but because they awakened it.
Jesus didn’t hand us answers.
He handed us stories that wait to be lived.
And when something in you stops performing
and starts responding,
when you step into the story—not to fix it, but to feel it—
then you begin to see:
It is no longer you who live,
but Christ in you. (Galatians 2:20)