“Am I a ‘Wannabe’ Disciple?”

Luke 14:25-33

Addressing the topic of the call to ministry in his book The Spiritual Life, Evelyn Underhill wrote the following: “St. Paul did not want to be an apostle to the gentiles. He wanted to be a clever and appreciated young Jewish scholar… St. Ambrose and St. Augustine did not want to be overworked and worried bishops. Nothing was farther from their intention. St. Cuthbert wanted the solitude and freedom of [the contemplative life]; but he did not often get [it]. St. Francis Xavier’s preference was for the ordered life close to his beloved master, St. Ignatius. At a few hours’ notice he was sent out to be the Apostle of the Indies and never returned to Europe again. Henry Martyn, the fragile and exquisite scholar, was compelled to sacrifice the intellectual life to which he was so perfectly fitted for the missionary life to which he was decisively called. In all these, a power beyond themselves decided the direction of life… Things like this – and they are constantly happening – gradually convince us that the over-ruling reality of life is the Will and Choice of a Spirit acting not in a mechanical but in a living a personal way… the spiritual life [is] a free and unconditional response to [the Holy] Spirit’s pressure and call, whatever the cost may be.”

Whatever the cost may be. We are called to follow Jesus. Led by the Holy Spirit, we are to go where God would have us go to do what God would have us do, in the process letting go of whatever needs to be let go.

In this morning’s text from Luke Jesus uses some very strong language in order to convey the extremely serious nature of discipleship. “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.” Those are some pretty harsh words, especially the one translated as “hate.” On the surface, at least, Jesus seems to be saying that we cannot truly follow him until we hate all that is nearest and dearest to us.

Or is that what he’s really saying. In Matthew’s parallel rendering of this text he uses the term “love less than” instead of “hate.” This better captures the root meaning of the Aramaic word often translated as “hate.” We are not called to literally hate our parents or whomever. We are called to let go of any person or anything, if and when that person or that thing comes between Jesus and us. I particularly like Eugene Peterson’s paraphrase of the final words in the text: “Simply put, if you’re not willing to take what is dearest to you, whether plans or people, and kiss it good-bye, you can’t be my disciple.”

Or if you prefer a more traditional way of capturing the meaning of the text, take a look at some of the phrases found in the hymn “Jesus Calls Us.” “Day by day his sweet voice soundeth, Saying, ‘Christian, follow me’… From each idol that would keep us, Saying, ‘Christian, love me more’… Still he calls, in cares and pleasures, ‘Christian love me more than these’…”

We can love people. As Christians we’re absolutely required to love not only one another, but also our neighbor, the stranger, and our enemy. Parents are called love and nurture their children. Children are instructed by Scripture to love and honor their parents. As citizens it is our duty to love and serve our nation, to obey its laws and work for its good. And then there are our possessions. They are, in themselves, not sinful. We probably shouldn’t love them, but it’s okay to have and enjoy them.

Ultimately it’s a matter of priorities. What comes first in our lives, God’s will or our own wishes? What’s more important, following Jesus or taking care of business? Who is it that we love the most: our children, our parents, our families, our friends, our nation, maybe even ourselves, or our creating, redeeming, sustaining Lord? Jesus made it very clear that following him isn’t all seashells and balloons. Discipleship can be a costly venture, one that will often require hard choices of us. Sometimes these choices can be excruciatingly painful. At the very least, they can be irritatingly inconvenient.

When Jesus spoke the words of today’s text he was speaking to a crowd of people that had been attracted by his popularity. Some of them wanted to jump on the Jesus bandwagon before it got too far down the road. Some wanted to hitch their own wagons to Jesus’ star. Some wanted to bask in the glow of his accomplishments and fame. Some simply wanted to be in on “the-next-big-thing.” For them this was a joyride.

And Jesus said, “Wait a minute. Think this through. Make sure you know just what it is you’re getting yourself into. Discipleship is not a part-time occupation. Nor is it a hobby. It’s a full-time calling, one that must be placed ahead of everything else in your life. Are you willing to walk away from people and places you love? Can you give up your homes, families, careers, lifestyles, and possessions? Are you ready to antagonize the Roman Empire, your nation’s leaders, and even the religious establishment? Are you up to being hated, ridiculed, and persecuted? How do social ostracism, jail time, torture, and even death sound? If you’re going to be my disciple, all that comes with the territory? So make up your minds. Either you’re willing to become a disciple, or you’re not. There is no room for ‘wannabe’ disciples.”

Odds are that thinned out the crowd a bit. Following Jesus no longer sounded so glamorous. This was no longer a free ride off into some glorious sunset. This was hard, probably even dangerous.

Discipleship – real discipleship - is still hard. Some places it’s dangerous, if not deadly, to be a disciple. Many of our brothers and sisters in Christ are paying a heavy price to follow Jesus. Families disown them. Friends abandon them. Neighbors turn on them. Authorities arrest them for the crime of being Christian. Some are dying or living in fear of death. Some must become strangers in strange lands. Imagine leaving home, knowing that you may never return to familiar faces and places.

Christians in America do not face such choices. While they are always implicit in our vows of discipleship, they are not present realities. For this we can thank God. But there are still choices, some hard, some merely inconvenient. Do we risk strange looks or maybe even laughter by saying grace prior to a meal at McDonalds? Do we alienate our unmarried adult children by insisting that while in our home, they and their romantic partners sleep in separate bedrooms? Do we risk the wrath of Mom and Dad by giving up the family business in order to work for a church or church agency? Do we endure periods of separation from our spouse in order to accept a call that is clearly of God? Do we, as did an elder from Alabama I once knew, risk unemployment rather than stay on with a firm that is asking us to do unethical things?

Getting laughed at at McDonalds, having one of our kids refuse to talk to us, dealing with a parentally induced guilt-trip, or being unemployed don’t quite equate with being persecuted. But if we aren’t willing to risk those kinds of things for Jesus’ sake, what will we do if and when being a Christian is really dangerous and not just inconvenient? What, then, will we be willing to give up for our Lord? What will love less than Jesus? Amen.