Sermon: The Cost of Discipleship

Luke 9:51-62

A Samaritan Village Refuses to Receive Jesus

51 When the days drew near for him to be taken up, he set his face to go to Jerusalem. ⁵²And he sent messengers ahead of him. On their way they entered a village of the Samaritans to make ready for him; ⁵³but they did not receive him, because his face was set towards Jerusalem.⁵⁴When his disciples James and John saw it, they said, ‘Lord, do you want us to command fire to come down from heaven and consume them?’ ⁵⁵But he turned and rebuked them. ⁵⁶Then they went on to another village.

Would-Be Followers of Jesus

57 As they were going along the road, someone said to him, ‘I will follow you wherever you go.’ ⁵⁸And Jesus said to him, ‘Foxes have holes, and birds of the air have nests; but the Son of Man has nowhere to lay his head.’ ⁵⁹To another he said, ‘Follow me.’ But he said, ‘Lord, first let me go and bury my father.’ ⁶⁰But Jesus said to him, ‘Let the dead bury their own dead; but as for you, go and proclaim the kingdom of God.’ ⁶¹Another said, ‘I will follow you, Lord; but let me first say farewell to those at my home.’ ⁶²Jesus said to him, ‘No one who puts a hand to the plough and looks back is fit for the kingdom of God.’

Prayer: Oh Lord, uphold me, that I may uplift thee.  Amen.

The Cost of Discipleship

                There’s nowhere in scripture where God calls us to be comfortable.  In fact, in this passage, Jesus reprimands would-be disciples for attempting to follow him and go about their daily lives at the same time.  It’s not that he doesn’t want them to honor their families, but it’s a demonstration of what it truly means to be a disciple.  Jesus is on his way to the cross, and he is moving with a quickness.  It won’t be an easy journey, nor an easy thing for disciples to witness.  And it is after Jesus’ death when the real work will begin.  It is when the disciples, without the physical embodiment of God standing next to them, must strike out on their own and continue his ministry.  These are heavy responsibilities, ones which will lead to the deaths of many of them.  Stephen is stoned to death.  Peter is crucified upside down.  James was beheaded.

                The Good News has often been referred to as the scandalous Gospel of Jesus Christ.  And the scandal of particularity forces us to pay attention to the details of Jesus’ life and ministry, rather than focusing all our attention of his birth and death.  It is in these details that we find the model for our own lives, and the model that the first disciples were being asked to follow.  Jesus didn’t come to reign on high as a ruler of all the lands, which was what was expected of the Messiah.  He came as an ordinary man, one who spent his time with sinners and unclean people.  The things he did flew in the face of authority because he was not in line with their expectations. 

                When they choose to follow Jesus, to be his faithful disciples, they know it will be an arduous task.  Jesus doesn’t mince words with them, particularly in this passage, when he tells them it’s going to be hard.  He says they’ll have to leave their families without saying goodbye and that there will be nowhere to sleep.  Doesn’t sound like a terribly enticing offer.  But Jesus, knowing what lies in store, is simply giving them a taste.

                When we choose to follow Jesus, we have to understand the complexity of the relationship between us and him.  Yes, it was a wonderfully loving relationship, one with the promise of salvation and eternal life in the kingdom of God.  But it is so easy to get sucked into that side of it and forget the rest.  We are called to imitate Jesus.  And Jesus emptied his whole self so that we may have that eternal life. 

                Empty your whole self.  It’s a strange phrase, but it carries a ton of weight.  It means we, as disciples of Christ, are to be living examples of the beloved savior.  We don’t just go to serve at the soup kitchen.  We eat with the men and women who come.  We learn their stories.  We develop relationships with them.  We speak of them with kindness, love and respect.  We open our lives to them, and discover commonalities.  We open our homes and our hearts. 

                I will admit I’m terrible at this.  I would much rather hang out with the youth and young adults, teaching them, preparing them, equipping them to be disciples, and let them go out and do the actual serving.  And there is certain value in knowing what you’re specific vocational calling is, but the danger is that we will hide behind whatever that is.  I've been doing it for years. 

                The church that I attend is in downtown Atlanta.  We have a night shelter for men during the winter months and an outreach center which serves the homeless population of Atlanta.  Next door is the Catholic church which has a soup kitchen.  A block over is the Methodist church which serves breakfast every day.  Homeless men, women and children congregate on the sidewalks of these three churches in order to obtain services.  And directly across the street from my church is the state capitol building.  We call it the corner of power and powerlessness.

                It is not unusual, as is often the case here as well, that we will step OVER someone sleeping on the ground in order to get into church.  As I was on my way inside to a session meeting one night, I was joined by a friend, and as we walked up the steps, a man sitting in a corner caught my eye.  He called out and we both stopped.  He began to plead with us, saying over and over again how tired he was.  At one point, in between tired complaints, he said he needed food.  As a habit, I almost always have a granola bar on me, and so I pulled it out and gave it to him, hoping it would be sufficient and we could go.  But he kept talking and I was suddenly compelled to listen.  I never actually said a word to the man, I just sat on the ground and held his hand as he tried to make sentences through his tears.  My friend kneeled down, asked his name, and asked if we could pray with him.  He nodded, and she began to pray for this man, Rodrick.  It was deeply moving, and yet, in order to get to our meeting on time, we had to leave him there.  As we walked away, he called out to us, “You don’t know who you just talked to.”

                It haunts me, though for different reasons now than it did then.  As I walked away, and after hearing his parting words, I felt like I had accomplished something.  I had just held the hand of Jesus.  I patted myself on the back and went off to play with Robert’s Rules of Order.  All in a day’s work.  But now, reflecting back, I wonder what that cost me.  A granola bar?  A few minutes of my time?  Or will it haunt me forever, because I really didn't do anything?

                I don’t know what became of Rodrick.  I probably never will.  And that’s likely why the experience has changed from one of self-congratulation to self-flagellation.  I could have stayed and talked to him.  I could have invited him inside to have dinner with the rest of us.  I could have called my best friend who places people in night shelters and found him a place to stay.  But I didn't do any of those things.  Because my meeting was more important. 

                In this passage, Jesus says, “Foxes have holes and birds of the air have nests, but the Son of Man has no place to lay his head.”  Rodrick had no place to lay his head that night, or any night.  I may not have encountered Jesus himself, but Jesus said, “just as you did it to one of the least of these who are members of my family, you did it to me.” (Matt. 25:40)  It may not have been Jesus, but it was certainly a member of his family, and all I had to give was a granola bar.

                As South Africa, indeed the world, has been preparing to say goodbye to a leader in the anti-apartheid movement, I have spent the week reflecting on Nelson Mandela’s life and work for the emptying of himself that it was.  I am mindful of the cost of his discipleship.  His form of discipleship was expecting, and fighting for, equality for all people…a principle that fills the pages of scripture.  Because Paul, in his letter to the church in Galatia, says, “There is neither Jew nor Greek, slave nor free, male nor female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus.”  Equality among the nations, equality among people of all races, equality among people of all classes.  And the cost of his discipleship?…27 years in prison.  He sacrificed.

                The cost of discipleship is high.  We won’t always find ourselves locked away in prison for 27 years, but I know that the haunting feeling I have after my encounter with Rodrick is my heart’s way of telling me, “You’re doing it wrong.”  Because, really, what would it have cost me to miss one meeting and help this guy find a place to stay for the night?  But my outlook is still wrong when I think I could have just taken him to a shelter for the night.  Because even then I’d have patted myself on the back and walked away, never to return.

                True discipleship would have been taking him into my home, giving him my bed and making him meals.  True discipleship would have been taking on the broken system that has kept him oppressed.  True discipleship would have been sacrificing my meeting, my schoolwork, my comfortable life in order to provide for him.

                God does not call us to be comfortable.

                God calls us to discipleship.

                Jesus did not come to be served, but to serve.

                And Jesus calls us to serve.

                Even if we don’t want to see it, we must look outside of ourselves and look for the suffering of others.  We must reach out and touch the hands of the poor, the imprisoned, the sick.  We must look injustice in the face and say, “No more!” 

                Jesus took the journey to Jerusalem, knowing full well what lay ahead, so that we may all have eternal life.  Jesus sacrificed for us.  For God’s people.

                We don’t know if the men in this story wound up following Jesus, because Jesus asked a lot of them.  What we do know is that the disciples, both past and present, who have been the most faithful followers are the ones who have given up everything in service of their fellow man…in service of God’s people.