No Crowds
When I lived in Cambridge, I found the indifference to religion a tough barrier. So I asked my pastor how he shared the gospel with his neighbors. He told me, "I just try to fit into my neighborhood like anyone else. I don't want anyone to think I'm different just because I'm a pastor." I didn't have any follow-up questions.
Luke 14:25-35
Huge crowds were walking with him. He turned and said to them: "If a man comes to me, he must hate his own father, mother, wife, children, brothers, sisters, and even his own life. If not, he cannot be my disciple. Whoever will not bear his cross and walk behind me cannot be my disciple. Suppose one of you wants to build a tower. Won't you first sit down and add up the cost, to see if you can afford to finish it? Otherwise, once you have laid the foundation and can't complete the work, everyone watching will start to laugh at you, saying, 'This guy began to build and couldn't see it through.' Or suppose a king marches out to battle with another king. Won't he first sit down and weigh whether, with ten thousand men, he can stand against the one attacking him with twenty thousand? And if he can't, while the other is still far off he sends a delegation to ask for terms of peace. So then, you cannot be my disciple unless you give up everything you own. Salt is a fine thing. But if salt loses its taste, how can its saltiness be restored? It is no good for the soil or the manure pile. People just throw it away. Whoever has ears to hear, let him hear."
Huge crowds follow Jesus, swept up in the energy of a growing movement. It's exciting to participate in something big and impressive. But Jesus spots the spiritual danger, and he cares more about inviting people to wholeness than building his brand. So Jesus explains what it means to be his disciple: total commitment. In a culture where the expectation was to put your family before everything and everyone else, it would seem like you hated your family to put Jesus before them. And in a culture where religious enthusiasm was one of the few ways to get ahead, Jesus requires the voluntary acceptance of social shame, physical deprivation, and even death. Because Jesus is deliberately using hyperbole, it's convenient to dial back his command to something easy. I can read this passage and think to myself, "What he really meant was you have to go to church on Sundays." But Jesus clarifies the cost is substantial. It's like building a house or fighting a war, two of the most consequential decisions a family or a king can take. It's so high that it requires the renunciation of all other commitments. Jesus only accepts total loyalty. Years later, I asked another pastor the same question. He said, "When we moved into our neighborhood, we just opened up the doors to our home and invited everyone to come hang out. Sometimes it's chaotic, but once people know you care about them, you can talk about anything, including Jesus." I thought about how disruptive imitating my pastor's example would be, and decided not to do it. It's easier to observe (and judge) how others follow Jesus than to practice it myself. Before I can obey Jesus, I have to decide it's worth the commitment. We know that the crowd eventually turned on Jesus and cheered for his crucifixion. Yet Jesus had already counted the cost. He knew that we were half-hearted, selfish, inconsistent creatures. He knew that when he was on the cross, the leaders would mock him as a failed Messiah and his death would seem like the end of peace. He still walked the road to Jerusalem because he loves us. His total commitment saved us and brought peace into our lives. If anyone can restore saltiness to ruined salt, or wholeness to selfish hearts, it's Jesus. These parables tell us to count the cost of following Jesus because it's an all-in commitment. But our effort is secondary to his. He walked the road before he asked us to follow him, and he gives us his Spirit so we can walk with him (Galatians 5:16). Responding to this passage doesn't mean taking vows of poverty or giving up all our hobbies. The cost of discipleship isn't bad news that ruins us. Instead, it means we steward all of our lives for his purposes. Jesus is showing and telling us how to live with purpose. When we follow him, we stop blending in to the crowd and we start living distinctive, restorative lives. The good news is both that Jesus saves us and makes us like him.
What does it tell us about Jesus that he tells the crowd the truth instead of what they want to hear?
Whose costly decisions to follow Jesus have challenged you to count the cost?
What's one way you've silently limited discipleship to whatever is convenient?
Today, call a friend to honestly talk about following Jesus. Ask each other, "What's one way I'm avoiding the cost of being a disciple?" Then encourage each other: "If you followed Jesus like that, here's one way I see your life getting salty again."