Mystic Congregational Church, UCC

Mystic, Connecticut

Sermon from September 05, 2004

“Daring Discipleship”

Rev. Patricia L. Liberty

 Scriptures:

Jeremiah 18:1-11

Psalm 139

Luke 14:25-33

It was a day that not much got done.  Word that Jesus was on the outskirts of town spread fast and, before long, a crowd was making its way to the place where Jesus and his entourage were settling in for the afternoon.  Some came out of sheer curiosity; others were swept up in the energy of friends or family who wanted to hear what this enigmatic prophet had to say.

Luke is careful to tell us that Jesus attracted quite a crowd.

After reading this text, I can’t help but wonder … why?  Imagine for a moment …

In the crowd were young women, mothers holding their infants in their arms, a man who grieved the death of his brother, a newly-married young man, and a group of elders who had left their studies with the local rabbi.

As the crowd settles down on a grassy hillside, Jesus clears his throat and speaks in an extra loud voice so everyone can hear.

“Unless you hate your mother and father, wife and children, brothers and sisters, you cannot be my disciple.”  I can only guess that whatever the equivalent of first century marketing consultants were cringing at the projections for repeat business.  This is not the kind of message that immediately inspires one to sign up for Jesus’ next tour.

In first century Palestine connection to family was everything.  Rights of inheritance and succession, marrying well and producing children … relations of clan and tribe were the hallmark of Jesus’ time.

No less in our own time, though for different reasons.  For most people, what is more important than family?  It is the one “thing”, the one reality that causes people the most joy and pain, takes the most energy and creates the most enduring relationships of life.  It is the place where we first learn who we are; it is how we come to know something of our place in the world.  It is where we are given our name.  Family, whether by birth or choice is a large part of what makes us who we are.

Jesus’ words sound like an invitation to family anarchy, an encouragement for the total dissolution of the family, permission for baby boomers to abandon their aging parents, encouragement for struggling adolescents to crank up their rebellion a few notches, license for those in conflicted families to carry anger and resentment like a mantle of faithfulness.

Jesus may not have had people signing up for the next tour, but he no doubt got their attention with this radical notion of what’s important.  At the very least, they were all listening to see what came next.  We’ll get to that in a minute, but let’s take a minute and explore this text a bit more.

It’s the word “hate” that’s the problem.  It’s a strong word.  For those sitting on that grassy hillside, bringing that malignant emotion into their most dearly held relationships made Jesus’ words about as attractive as being down wind from a sheep farm on a hot day.

After all, it was hate, and its counterpart fear, that had caused so much chaos in their history as they tried to occupy the land that Yahweh had promised them.  In Jesus’ time, they struggled with Roman occupation and corruption as well as the lack of tolerance that the religious plurality of the time encouraged.

In our time, hate is the root of war, violence, homophobia, racism and all the “isms” that shape the human experience.

Well, it’s not as bleak and hostile as it appears.  Hate is an unfortunate translation of the Greek word that appears in the original text.  The word is more aptly translated as detachment, a perspective that is grounded in a primary, unwavering, all-consuming commitment to the ways of discipleship.

This is not an anti-family scripture.  Rather, it is Jesus’ instruction that having a relationship with God is going to cost us everything we trust more than God, everything we count on more than God.  It is not a call to irresponsibility but rather a call to daring discipleship that informs and transforms every relationship we have including those with our parents, children, siblings and spouses.  This text is a reminder that the call of faith supercedes all others, even the call of family.  It is as radical a notion now as it was for those first hearers on that grassy hillside thousands of years ago.

Perhaps you remember the values clarification exercises that were popular in the 1970’s and 80’s.  In some ways, Jesus’ teachings is akin to the outcome … figure out what’s most important to you and if your relationship with God isn’t number one … well, it’s a problem.

When I was young in ministry, I went on retreat with a group of ministers … and we were invited to contemplate what was nearest and dearest to our hearts.  We were given five pieces of paper on which we wrote down the five things most important to us.  It was an individual exercise and we did not speak to our neighbors as we completed it.  We were told that we had to choose one to discard, and we were left with four.  Then we had to get rid of another and another until we were left with one thing, the most important reality in our life.  And the leader said to us, “if the item you are left with in your hand can be taken from you, if it can die, be destroyed or stolen, then you must discard that one last thing.”  I was devastated.

Like many of my colleagues, I had put my marriage first.  And having the single most important reality of my life exposed as idolatry was a painful insight.  When Jesus said nothing should come before our relationship with God, he meant absolutely nothing.  It wasn’t about not honoring the marriage covenant, it was about honoring relationship with God first so that all other things might be made new.

Jesus didn’t mince words, unlike so many preachers today who present the gospel as though they were selling a used car.  No money down!  Attractive terms!  Low monthly payments!  They make it sound as easy as possible, as though no real commitment were required.  Jesus’ call was far different.  He wasn’t looking for a half-hearted commitment or a crowd of tagalongs.  Instead, he required his followers to be totally committed if they were going to follow at all.

And there is ample opportunity to count the cost before making a decision.  That’s what comes next … in the text Jesus talks about a building project and going to war … It’s about assessing preparation and resources and possibilities.

All of things and relationships and stuff that we use to define ourselves and our place in the world is of no consequence in the dance of discipleship to which we are invited.  What we are able to accomplish for God’s realm has nothing to do with where we live, what we possess, how we make a living, or who we live with.

Jesus invites us to a daring dance of discipleship, a lifelong life-giving rhythm where God’s grace meets our emptiness, holy love heals our brokenness and all the trappings of life that we hold around us like armor are set aside so we can be the people God created us to be.

When all that we hold to so tightly is stripped away, what remains is our humanness, faith such as we have and such as we hope for, glimmers of God’s way and will that we stumble after as best we can, holding on to those who have also joined the dance, knowing that when we can’t lead, we can lean on them and when they forget the steps, we will do the same for them.

What makes discipleship so radical and so daring is that it is so human, so transparent, so very simple, so very costly and, finally, so very freeing.  If we are to enter the dance, we must clear the decks, get everything out of the way and free our hands, so that God leads us in the life-giving dance of daring discipleship.

As always, Jesus leaves it up to us, the choice is ours.

Let us pray.  God of wholehearted commitment and unwavering love, reach to the deep places of faith and fear within us and strengthen our desire to be your people.  Amen.