Don't Let Up
Luke 14:25-33
September 1/2

You may have heard about the young, fresh-out-of-seminary preacher. After graduation, he was called to serve at a small church in the hills of Kentucky. In his first sermon, he condemned gambling, especially betting on the horses. As you might guess, the message was not well received. A church member explained, “You see, Reverend, this whole area is known for its fine horses.” “Lots of our members make their living breeding race horses.”

The next week the pastor spoke on the evils of smoking, and again, his sermon was not well received. Another church member took him aside and said, “Pardon me, preacher, but many of our members grow tobacco.” “In fact, a good deal of our church money comes from tobacco money.”

The third week the young clergy person preached on the evils of drinking. After the service, another church member waited until everyone else had been shaken out of the place. She said, “Young man, please don’t take offense, but you need to know that a major distillery is one of our town’s largest employers.”

Chastised for his choice of sermon topics, the perturbed pastor proclaimed, “Well, then, what can I preach about?” The woman was a gentle, older person. She thought for a moment and came up with this suggestion. “Pastor, why don’t you preach against those over-medicated movie stars or those overpaid athletes!” “Why, we don’t have one of those within hundreds of miles of this place!”

There are some sermons people do not want to hear. There are some messages that do not connect because they contradict our dearly-held values or our comfortable lifestyles. Jesus earned a reputation for preaching these kinds of sermons. His words were often divisive and demanding. His messages were often radical and risky. To pay attention and put them into action meant that changes and challenges would have to be made.

Today we conclude a seven-week sermon series: “Things are Looking Up!” During the past couple of months we have considered a number of lessons from Luke, chapters 10-14. We have been invited to “Listen Up,” “Freshen Up,” “Give it Up,” “Not Give Up,” “Not Get Hung Up,” and avoid being “Puffed Up.” This week’s reading appears to be one of the most radical of all! Jesus presents what seem to be unreasonable demands for discipleship. He clearly points out that there will be a cost for following him. As he makes his way to Jerusalem, he cautions some of his fair-weather-followers, “Plan ahead; this will not be easy—count the cost.” And instead of promoting a focus on the family, Jesus seems to advocate a fracas in the family! “Whoever comes to me and does not hate father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters…cannot be my disciple.” What do we make of all of this? If we are willing to show up and sign up for discipleship, how will our lives change? And perhaps, hopefully, we can hear Jesus’ words of encouragement beyond the holy hyperbole.

SO WHAT DO WE MAKE OF THESE OFF-THE-WALL WORDS? Luke tells us that large crowds are not traveling with Jesus. Aware of the discipleship wannabes in the crowd, he utters a number of hard sayings that undoubtedly diminish the ranks remarkably. They are bounding behind him with the belief that he’ll be the next Jerusalem Idol. So he tries to make things perfectly clear. Most of us cannot imagine hating our mom and dad and family members—but most of us grew up on the lap of Jesus and following him was expected, not radical. The words are strong and meant to make a point. And “hate” and “love” do not carry the emotional connotations that we have in our language—they have more to do with choices. Following Jesus could mean a choice of him over one’s family. Then, if that is not enough, Jesus evokes the image of a prisoner who is compelled to carry the patibulum. The patibulum is the crossbar that criminals carried on the way to their crucifixion by the Romans. “That is where this road could lead, if you get too close.” And being the profound preacher and tremendous teacher that he is, Jesus offers a couple of illustrations in case they still don’t get it. He talks about the costs of construction of a tower—“Don’t start what you can’t finish.”

We’re well-aware of lots of examples along those lines—or incredible cost overruns. The Suez Canal went 1900 % over budget, the Sydney Opera House went over 1400 %, the Concorde SST airplane went over 1100 %, and on and on. Locally we can talk about painting the bridge or paying for a new one or building a new arena. On a personal level, we have seen the dominos fall when we begin one home improvement project that leads to another and another. We get the picture!

And if we still don’t get it, Jesus talks about a king who considers going to war with 10,000 soldiers against an opponent with 20,000. “If you go to war under such conditions, you better have a few tricks up your sleeves!” “Otherwise, you better drum up a delegation so you can draw up some terms for peace!” That’s something the coach from Murray State should have done with Coach Kragthorpe from U of L before last Thursday’s game! And it is something to consider in the midst of any war at any time—count the cost; is it worth it?

OK, Jesus—we get the message. Great sacrifices must be made for great gain! But hopefully, we also hear the words of hope in Jesus’ message. He doesn’t say NOT to build the tower. He doesn’t say NOT to move ahead. He just tries to make it clear that if we make one of the most important decisions we will ever make, we need to be prepared and not let up. His comments about salt are made to add flavor to his message: “You’re called to be different, to be distinct, to stand out and stand up for what God wants in this world!”

ALTHOUGH JESUS’ INVITATION TO DISCIPLESHIP SOUNDS DAUNTING, WE GIVE THANKS THAT THE BLESSINGS FAR OUTWEIGH THE BURDENS—WHETHER WE REALIZE IT OR NOT. Some of you are familiar with a new book, Come Be My Light, which contains a number of very honest letters from one of the great disciples of all time, Mother Teresa—there was an interesting article in TIME magazine about her last week. In December of 1979, she received the Nobel Peace Prize. In her acceptance lecture, she shared the kind of message that the world had expected from her: “It is not enough to love God if we do not love our neighbors—because Christ is everywhere—in our hearts, in the poor we meet, in the smiles we give and receive.”

On another occasion, someone asked her what gave her total ecstasy. She replied: “To see people die with smiles on their faces.” And yet, three months earlier she spoke of the dark night of her soul, a dark night that apparently lasted for decades: “As for me, the silence and the emptiness are so great, that I look and do not see, listen and do not hear, the tongue moves in prayer, but does not speak.” Because of her confessions, which she did not want published, some have raised serious questions about faith and God and what really kept her going. But for me, her words are similar to many of the lamentations and the psalms—honest prayers from faithful people who continue to serve in the face of unspeakable suffering and pain.

Her words remind me of Psalm 22, Jesus’ words from the cross. She showed us and taught us about persistence and perseverance and doing the right thing—even in the depths of the darkest night of the soul. In 1982 she described herself in this way: “I am a little pencil in the hand of a writing God who is sending a love letter to the world.” And countless lives, people all over the planet, are not the same because she did not let up. Phyllis McGinley shares a helpful perspective about saints and disciples: “The wonderful thing about saints is that they were human.” “They lost their tempers, got hungry, scolded God, were egotistical, or testy or impatient in their turns, made mistakes and regretted them.” “Still, they went on doggedly blundering toward heaven.”

Friends, there is much to be said for faithful, dogged blundering toward heaven! Do you recall the wonderful words of encouragement from Phillips Brooks? “Find your purpose and fling your life into it; and the loftier your purpose, the more you will be able to make the world richer with every enrichment of yourself.” Don’t let up! But, oh, how hard it is for us to hear these words from Jesus! Most of us are pretty comfortable, pretty satisfied with the way things are. But sometimes, by the grace of God, we get a glimpse of a challenge that calls forth our best. What we discover is that by flinging ourselves into the heart of God, we find a life full of love and grace that is beyond anything we can imagine. If we have eyes to see and ears to hear, Jesus is trying to get our attention; he’s tugging on our heartstrings.

A few years ago, a doctor also shared some personal letters, a confession, in a medical journal. He wrote: “I considered myself one of the best and the brightest.” “Having just left a prestigious residency and fellowship program, I thought I was honed to a fine medical edge.” “My first law of medical practice was soon declared: “A wheelchair outside the treatment room door means trouble and should be avoided at all cost.’ “I established the law because it meant that my skills might not keep things under control.” “Nevertheless, I violated that law one day, and after taking a deep breath I stepped over a wheelchair, opened a door and met John.” “He was a referral from a colleague, and I was silently furious because John, age 14, had cerebral palsy, was painfully deformed and was extremely ill.” “He had been abandoned by his parents at an early age, knew few friends and lived in a foster home.” “And there he was now in my treatment room.” “John also had widespread cancer.” “During the next year, numerous and prolonged hospitalization were required to keep him partially comfortable.” “He never complained and showed uncommon courage; nonetheless, his care became an increasing ordeal.” “Finally, after a particularly frustrating day for the two of us, John grabbed my arm and said, ‘I’m sorry to be such a burden to you.’” “That night he died.” The doctor writes: “I’ve never forgotten John and the lessons he taught me.” “He taught me that there was more to me than I gave myself credit for being.” “He taught me about courage.” “He taught me about patience and perseverance.” “He taught me that life is full of opportunities to become more.” “And to think…I almost missed it.”