'Now large crowds were traveling with Jesus; and he turned and said to them, "Whoever comes to me and does not hate father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters, yes, and even life itself, cannot be my disciple. Whoever does not carry the cross and follow me cannot be my disciple. For which of you, intending to build a tower, does not first sit down and estimate the cost, to see whether he has enough to complete it? Otherwise, when he has laid a foundation and is not able to finish, all who see it will begin to ridicule him, saying, `This fellow began to build and was not able to finish.' Or what king, going out to wage war against another king, will not sit down first and consider whether he is able with ten thousand to oppose the one who comes against him with twenty thousand? If he cannot, then, while the other is still far away, he sends a delegation and asks for the terms of peace. So therefore, none of you can become my disciple if you do not give up all your possessions."'
--Luke 14: 25-33
Do y’all remember when you could pump your gas first and pay afterwards? Nowadays you can’t do that, you have to pre-pay. Well, when I was 16 years old, driving my father’s truck, I stopped for gas, and without thinking about it, pumped $10 or so – remember when that actually got you a decent amount of gas?! – and then proceeded to go pay. The only problem was I didn’t have my wallet. I’d left it at school. Sixteen year old Joe panicked, and I got in the truck and drove away. Now, the next day I came back, wallet in-hand, and paid what I owed, but because I hadn’t thought it through, because I hadn’t counted the cost of pumping the gas, I made what very well could’ve been a pretty serious mistake. Folks like me are why you now have to pay before you pump. You're welcome.
Have you ever done something like that? Ever made a decision without thinking it through or realizing that you have no idea what you got yourself into? That’s why it’s important to count the cost, to discern and think things through before we commit to them.
Have you applied that logic to being a Christian? Have you ever considered the importance of discerning, thinking through, and counting the cost of what it means to make such a commitment? That is the lesson at the heart of Jesus’ teaching in the Gospel this week. We find him surrounded by a large crowd on the road to Jerusalem. They all think he’s on the road to overthrowing Rome and establishing a new empire, but he’s actually on the road to the cross and a shameful death. The motif running throughout Luke’s Gospel is Jesus subverting expectations, and this lesson, which scholars often call The Cost of Discipleship, is no different.
Right out of the gate he comes at us with 'Whoever comes to me and does not hate father and mother, wife and children....cannot be my disciple....whoever does not take up their cross and follow me cannot be my disciple.' He continues with two parables: Which of you, he asks, intending to build a tower doesn’t first sit down and estimate the cost? Or what king, intending to go to war, doesn’t first sit down and map out a strategy? Nobody would, right? You would be sure to count the cost before you make those kinds of commitments. The same, therefore, is true for being a disciple. There is a cost. And while the Greek word translated as ‘hate’ – which is ‘misei’ – more accurately means ‘disfavor’ or ‘disregard,’ the point is still the same. Following Jesus means showing no preferential treatment toward anyone or anything other than the Kingdom of God. Even if that means being willing to let go and give up everything and everyone that a person holds dear. That is the cost of Christian discipleship. That is the cost of following Jesus, and if you’re gonna do it, he’s saying to the crowd, if you’re gonna go to Jerusalem, you better think about that before you commit. It’s not hard to picture folks, at that point, turning away and going home.
At the time Luke’s Gospel was written, the cost of following Jesus was very high. Often it resulted in the loss of family or the loss of life itself; after all, just look at the apostles, 11 of whom were martyred, and poor John was exiled and died in a cave. It didn’t work out so well for them in the end, but they followed anyway, because they were willing to count the cost. Nowadays, it’s a little different. We don’t have to be afraid to publicly gather for worship or be afraid of being put to death for going in the street and proclaiming that Jesus is Lord. A lot has changed. Being a Christian is easier than it was then, and one could argue it has turned into a convenience, churches into clubs where we gather with our friends whenever it is convenient and hear messages that make us feel good about ourselves. Where is the cost?
The earliest resources we have that describe the rite for baptism point out that when a child or adult was baptized – not a baby, mind you – that they were dunked three times and on the third time their head was held under the water until their breath was about to give out, and at the last moment the deacon released them, and they jumped up out of the water, gasping for air – the first breath of a new life in Christ. Maybe that seems extreme to us today, but the point remains that the earliest Christians understood the cost of discipleship being that they would have to be willing to let old things die – the habits and relationships that had come to define who they were – in order that Christ, and Christ alone, was what defined them and gave their life meaning. Today, we might ask ourselves, in response to this Scripture and in light of the example of our forebears in the faith: What is the cost of our discipleship? Are we willing to let old things die? And are we willing to take a chance on following Jesus, even if it means that we will fail. Because to the world the cross is still a symbol of shame, humiliation, and failure. Are we willing to accept and count such a cost?
William Barclay, in his commentary on Luke's Gospel, tells the story of a professor that he once knew in Scotland. Someone once said to the professor that they had met a young man who was a student of that professor. To which the professor replied, “He may have sat in on my class, but he wasn’t a student of mine.” There’s a difference between sitting in class for a lecture and being a student, there’s a difference between sitting in a pew for a sermon and being a disciple. There is effort involved, there is a cost to be counted before we make such a commitment. There is the risk – and sometimes even the certainty – of disappointment and failure, of families, friends, and neighbors treating us with mockery and shame, just as people in Jesus’ time treated those who were crucified. I have even seen it in people who have come to the faith in our time and have lost loved ones because of it. After all, to turn our backs on the world and proclaim that our worth is measured by our belonging to Jesus Christ, and that to lose everything by following him means that we will gain everything, is just plain nuts. But if we are willing to let the former standards we held and ways we’ve been go, and see in Jesus a new life and a new way of being, if we understand and the count cost, then we can count ourselves among his disciples and can change the world, even if to the world, it looks like we failed.
I’d like to give the last word to Saint Theresa of Calcutta – Mother Teresa. She offered a prayer once that the musician Ben Folds eventually covered in a song called Do It Anyway. Her prayer, I believe, helps encapsulate what the cost of discipleship means for a modern church:
People are often unreasonable, irrational, and self-centered.
Forgive them anyway.
If you are kind, people may accuse you of selfish, ulterior motives.
Be kind anyway.
If you are successful, you will win some unfaithful friends and some genuine enemies.
Succeed anyway.
If you are honest and sincere people may deceive you.
Be honest and sincere anyway.
What you spend years creating, others could destroy overnight.
Create anyway.
If you find serenity and happiness, some may be jealous.
Be happy anyway.
The good you do today, will often be forgotten.
Do good anyway.
Give the best you have, and it will never be enough.
Give your best anyway.
In the final analysis, it is between you and God.
It was never between you and them anyway.
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