Audio Link and Sermon Manuscript for Sunday, September 26, 2010

If you'd like to listen to my sermon from Sunday, September 26th, 2010, click on the link below to download the audio file. 


http://www.box.net/shared/n3nty7227n



The sermon manuscript I used follows below: 




The Twenty-Sixth Sunday of Ordinary Time; September 26, 2010
Park Avenue Presbyterian Church; Des Moines, Iowa
Texts: Jeremiah 32: 1-3a, 6-15
Psalm 91: 1-6, 14-16
1 Timothy 6: 6-19
Luke 16: 19-31 *

“As the Purse is Emptied, the Heart is Filled”

--} This morning’s parable in our gospel lesson surely begins with the context Luke puts it in. The gospel story begins with more than just the parable about the rich man and Lazarus, but with the Pharisees, “who were lovers of money,” and who had been ridiculing Jesus. The good news is we have a context in which to understand Jesus’ parable; the bad news… is that once again, our money (particularly that we have more than enough) is an issue for us, too.

Initially, at least, we all want to cheer the “great reversal” of verse 25: “remember that during your lifetime you received your good things, and Lazarus, in like manner evil things; but now he is comforted and you are in agony.” To be sure, like us, many in the crowd around Jesus would have cheered such “just desserts,” too—reveling in the notion that all people get what’s coming to them. We’d like to think that with the coming of God’s Kingdom, everything gets evened out. The billionaires can live like paupers, and WE can all live like Donald Trump!

Yet, we use this reality to justify suffering now, as if it will eventually be rewarded. We’re comforted, because when we see people who are suffering at the hands of human greed, we believe that’s OK, because they will eventually get their reward in heaven. And maybe, just maybe, our lives don’t have to change so much. After all, we try and do our part to help those who are suffering; and none of us really live like Donald Trump! But I don’t believe this is Jesus’ point.

Luke has a curious way of telling this story. First, the rich man is never named. Names are a big deal, and the fact that Lazarus is named and the rich man isn’t, tells us something about Lazarus’ relative value in the parable. Press Lazarus’ name a bit, and we discover his name means, “God helps.” So this parable is a picture of a rich man verses the one who God helps. Lazarus is only seen lying at the gate, suffering. How does he ever gain God’s favor?

There’s an old Americanized proverb most of us are familiar with: “God helps those who help themselves.” Afterall, we’re the people who are ridiculously proud of “pulling ourselves up by our own bootstraps.” You can’t just sit and wallow in your sufferings or your losses or your defeats; you have to get up and keep pushing. Many people believe this proverb about helping yourself is biblical; I assure you, it is not. Some people attribute it to Benjamin Franklin, offering advice about how to be successful in life; maybe. There’s actually an old Greek fable that goes like this:

A Waggoner was once driving a heavy load along a very muddy way. At last he came to a part of the road where the wheels sank half-way into the mire, and the more the horses pulled, the deeper sank the wheels. So the Waggoner threw down his whip, and knelt down and prayed to Hercules the Strong. "O Hercules, help me in this my hour of distress," quoth he. But Hercules appeared to him, and said: "Tut, man, don't sprawl there. Get up and put your shoulder to the wheel."

The gods help them that help themselves.

And the point seems to be that you have to demonstrate some initiative in order for God to throw in with you, right?

But in Jesus’ parable, God’s favor or God’s help requires no such initiative. If anything, God simply observes injustice and will take care of it in the next life. “Where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.”


But I believe the truth is that if we don’t walk away from this parable a good bit offended, we’ve missed the meaning.


We always want to believe that we are somehow less offensive in our behavior than the rich man Jesus tells us about. That we wouldn’t feast sumptuously ourselves while we allowed Lazarus to lie at the gate and suffer, day after day as the dogs lick his wounds.

But the conclusion of the parable is this: “They have Moses and the prophets; they should listen to them.” And the point seems to be, not avoiding the fate of the rich man, but listening to Moses and the Prophets. Luke’s surprise in this story is that Jesus is talking to the Pharisees, who arguably ought to be the ones who are the best “listeners” to the law and the Prophets. And yet, they are the ones identified as the “lovers of money.” As it is with the rich man, their burden is justifying themselves in the sight of others, but not according to how God measures the heart. And when we presume a “great reversal” is going to be the “great fix” to all injustices, I think we become guilty of the same thing.


If we don’t walk away from this parable a good bit offended, ourselves; we’ll miss what Jesus is up to.

The parable serves as a check and balance for what we might otherwise settle for being true. We’re often convinced that prudent and wise disposition of our wealth is important and to be valued. So, saving for a rainy day, putting something away for tomorrow—just in case, or managing our wealth and money, are practical steps to success. The value of emptying the purse so our hearts might be filled… sounds, well, foolish. Even though that would seem to be the behavior we would try and prescribe for the rich man in Jesus parable; and when Jesus would seem to be trying to advise us similarly.

So here’s a quote I heard this week attributed to the “notable leftist” Dwight Eisenhower. Of course, you know Eisenhower was no “leftist,” but rather a well-established Republican patriot. But here’s what Eisenhower said:

“Every gun that is made, every warship launched, every rocket fired signifies …a theft from those who hunger and are not fed, those who are cold and not clothed. This world in arms is not spending money alone. It is spending the sweat of its laborers, the genius of its scientists, the hopes of its children.”

And this is part of the point I believe Jesus is pushing us toward: that the choices we make for our lives are always related to those who do not get to make the same kinds of choices. And if we presume to make our choices and care not for others and their choices, we are no better than the rich man feasting sumptuously while Lazarus is lying at the gate in agony.

As we hear the words of Jesus’ promises for us, we tend to believe we are well on our way to personal and corporate salvation—maybe even without having to take stock of the victims of injustice or the suffering we surely witness and recognize. As we hear the promises of Jesus, it’s easier to presume God’s help of us, to justify our status, and presume our place in eternal life, rather than taking stock of our relative wealth and our relative unwillingness to even up justice.

Again, here’s the sage advice Jesus is quoting: “They have Moses and the prophets; they should listen to them.” It’s not that we don’t need Jesus, but that we have already been invited into a world-view that should guide us. God’s preferential assessment for some people is important. We should not seek to look beyond it, but figure ourselves how to change our actions accordingly. And then we can become people who aren’t just worried about what happens to us when we die, but people who are busy being God’s hands, God’s heart, God’s eyes, God’s legs and feet.

Or, as Vida Scudder surmises: “We have food, others have none. God bless the revolution.”


--+ Brothers and Sisters, God sent God’s son, the Christ; he doesn’t just save us, he turns our world upside down. He calls us to live in new ways, to see wealth, riches, and suffering as things we can change. We’re called—are we not—to give up clinging to money and to cling to the life of the Kingdom of God instead. AMEN.

Audio Link and Sermon Manuscript for Sunday, September 19, 2010

If you'd like to listen to my sermon from Sunday, September 19th, click on the link below and download the audio file. 

http://www.box.net/shared/b5b2di6ge3


The manuscript I used follows below: 




The Twenty-Fifth Sunday of Ordinary Time; September 19, 2010
Park Avenue Presbyterian Church; Des Moines, Iowa
Texts: Jeremiah 8:18 – 9:1
Psalm 79: 1-9
1 Timothy 2: 1-7
Luke 16: 1-13 *

“Who’s The Real ‘Apprentice’?”

--} It should come as no surprise that many preachers report today’s gospel reading to be one of the most challenging accounts in all of scripture. Verses 8 and 9 sit at the center of the controversy:

And his master commended the dishonest manager because he had acted shrewdly; for the children of this age are more shrewd in dealing with their own generation than are the children of light. And I tell you, make friends for yourselves by means of dishonest wealth so that when it is gone, they may welcome you into the eternal homes.

The first part of verse 8 is the conclusion of the parable; but the last half, and verse 9 appear to be Jesus’ words of advice—“make friends for yourselves by means of dishonest wealth.” Uncomfortable advice—because Jesus sounds like he’s endorsing dishonesty. Well, doesn’t he?

Like many hard passages, what a lot of preachers and interpreters do is to make the passage about something else. So instead of facing up to the difficulty of Jesus’ parable, many turn to the advice or application that seems to follow in the later verses. “You cannot serve God and mammon;” or “whoever is faithful in a very little is faithful also in much;” or “if you have not been faithful with what belongs to another, who will give you what is your own?”

But this story has a hard edge, just like when Jesus tells us that we have to give up our possessions. It’s bookended by famous stories about Jesus being picked on because he eats with sinners and welcomes them, and then he gets pointed out because he labels people as “lovers of money.” If you ask me, I think Jesus has something to say in this parable about how we think about money and wealth; and it’s even more surprising than simply suggesting that Jesus is encouraging us to use “dishonest wealth” to make friends.

Most of the time, we tend to focus our time and energy on the so-called “dishonest manager.” While the rich man has heard the manager was squandering the rich man’s property and proceeds to dismiss him, the “dishonest manager” earns his name because he goes to those who owe money to the rich man, inviting them to freely reduce the amount due to be paid the rich man. By cutting them a deal, the dishonest manager believes this will curry favor with others when the rich man dismisses him for cause; and then, he have someone to take him in.

But you’d think, that when the rich man hears what the dishonest manager has done, he’d be even more irate. But that isn’t what happens. When the rich man hears what the dishonest manager has done, he responds by praising him instead. Calling him “shrewd,” the rich man gives up his moral authority, indicating that the dishonest manager acted in a way worth of admiration. That’s the disturbing part, isn’t it? And not only that, but Luke seems to put it squarely into the voice of Jesus, using language in the original text that indicates it was Jesus himself—not just the rich man—heaping up the praise. That’s a double whammy of dishonesty, and no one in the parable seems to do anything about it!

But the other character in the parable is the rich man. And upon hearing that the manager is acting wrongfully, the rich man doesn’t allow him to continue. However, when he discovers he’s been defrauded, the rich man seems to undergo some kind of a transformation. If the rich man was concerned enough to dismiss the dishonest manager in the beginning, he should be infuriated when he hears about the fraud. It’s his loss! Where is his righteous indignation? Where is his willingness to throw the law-book at this guy? But instead, surprisingly to everyone he praises the dishonest manager’s actions, calling him “shrewd.” It’s almost as if he says, “this guy is really good, and if I were smart, I’d hire someone just like him!” So what is the rich man up to? And even more, what might Jesus be up to?

So let’s think about this for a moment. Jesus in Luke’s gospel, in particular, has a serious beef with rich people. In fact, there’s pretty good biblical and gospel evidence to suggest that all “wealth” is “dishonest wealth.” In that regard, the usual and customary response would be that the rich man in the parable would be considered the “bad guy.” And again, some interpreter’s will presume this is still the case by pointing to the praise that gets heaped on the “dishonest manager” who ends up cutting the poorer people a break by allowing them to pay less than what they owe.

But the rich man doesn’t play by the “rich man’s” rules. Rather than be morally indignant because he gets defrauded, he joins the praise chorus, calling the guy who ripped him off, “shrewd”—as if he was smart enough to figure out how to act in his own self-interest. But by praising the dishonest manager, the rich man seems to change sides. But Jesus doesn’t seem to play by the rules, either. He seems to join the parable itself by siding with the rich man’s praise of the dishonest manager. This is the part that makes us dis-comfortable with the parable itself. But I think Jesus and Luke have another idea. By siding with the rich man’s praise, Jesus seems to shift the focus.

How often do we notice Jesus seeming to take sides here? And because Jesus jumps in on the side of the rich man, it means he isn’t taking the side of the dishonest manager—who by every measure is still dishonest. It means that our first gut-reaction was right; the sleaze-ball is still a sleaze-ball—and we saw it coming. But the sleaze-ball isn’t the rich man [surprise!]. Still, there’s iron in these words; and the hard lesson is still out there.

The rich man in THIS parable appears to be a-typical. Instead of reacting harshly at being defrauded, it’s as if he laughs it off—even praising the one who defrauded him. What’s wrong with this picture?—at least that’s what we ought to be asking ourselves AND the text. The story, simply as it’s told, doesn’t seem to turn out right. But the text offers us a few clues for another take.

Jesus has been teaching and preaching a different kind of life. Essentially, the Kingdom of God has different rules of living. It’s like some of Jesus’ other hard-edged teachings, like “selling our possessions and giving the money to the poor;” or, “none of you can become my disciple if you do not give up your possessions.” This particular parable would seem to place a “dishonest manager” in the hero’s role; one who would act shrewdly in order to protect his living. But instead, the story is undone when the rich man steps outside of his role. He moves, from one driven by his wealth and riches, to one who is seemingly cares little for them—allowing them to be given away by a shrewd and dishonest employee—as if the wealth suddenly belonged to someone else!

I believe that the rich man has suddenly experienced a change of heart. Though Luke’s telling of the story doesn’t exactly follow through with all the details, it appears the rich man is stepping out of his pre-conceived role as a “rich man” and Jesus is stepping out of his role as only the savior of the poor. As Jesus takes the side of the rich man, he seems to indicate that the rich man is where the Kingdom of God has suddenly taken up residence [surprise!]. Which as strange as it might seem to us, it’s the rich man who becomes the true apprentice of Jesus and the lifestyle of the Kingdom of God!

It’s the rich man—not the dishonest manager—who recognizes Jesus’ call to live a new life. The rich man who exhibits the proper “change” from the beginning of the parable to the end. The rich man, who becomes the Kingdom of God in deed, refusing to retaliate against the dishonest manager who defrauded him; the rich man who demonstrates what it means to take up a new way of living. And this kind of reading “matches” the parable of the prodigal which appears right before the telling of this story—where again the “rich man” appears out of character. This also matches the readings that will follow, where Jesus teaches against loving money and the lavishness of wealth.

In the end, the parable of the dishonest manager anticipates a change of heart for the rich man—demonstrating one who is intentional about living in new ways. And because Jesus’ gospel view is that all wealth is “dishonest,” the rich man can take no issue with having been defrauded. He allows his lost wealth to be lost, demonstrating his willingness to follow Jesus advice about making friends with dishonest wealth and Jesus declaration that one cannot have two masters.

And so, this parable ultimately makes us uncomfortable because again, Jesus is after OUR wealth, too. Yet again Jesus takes issue with how we live our lives and cling to the things of this world. Yet again Jesus would seek to turn us toward God and God’s kingdom as a way to live in the here and now—like a rich man who can give up the angst of being defrauded, and find the joy in being led home—even by one who acts dishonestly—IF, we can remember that Jesus is calling us to meet the joy of the Kingdom of God in our living, too.


--+ Brothers and Sisters, God sent God’s son, the Christ, who declares for us the ways of the Kingdom of God. It’s not always as it seems to us; sometimes we’re forced to encounter the teaching of a hard edge, where Jesus transforms us—from the ways of the world, to the life of the Kingdom of God. Once again, we just have to consider giving up our wealth, or allowing it to be given away for us. AMEN.

Audio Link and Sermon Manuscript for Sunday, September 12, 2010

If you'd like to listen to my sermon from Sunday, September 12th, please click on the link below to download the audio file. 

http://www.box.net/shared/fedxh34u61


The manuscript I used follows below: 




The Twenty-Fourth Sunday of Ordinary Time; September 12, 2010
Park Avenue Presbyterian Church; Des Moines, Iowa
Texts: Jeremiah 4: 11-12, 22-28
Psalm 14
1 Timothy 1: 12-17
Luke 15: 1-10 *

“ “This fellow welcomes sinners and eats with them.”  And I tell you, there was grumbling.”

--} No matter what else I might say today, I think Luke points us in the right direction of understanding chapter 15 when he begins:

“Now all the tax collectors and sinners were coming near to listen to him. And the Pharisees and the scribes were grumbling and saying, “This fellow welcomes sinners and eats with them”.”

Now I figure the problem is, that I’m a Christian. I choose to follow Jesus, I refer to him as “Lord, Savior, Friend,” and I’m just accustomed to thinking and believing that the Lord Jesus Christ can simply eat with whomever he wants to. What! It’s not my business! Jesus can eat with whomever he wants to. I just don’t see what all the fuss is about! Huh!!!

Isn’t that how we see it? Well…!

If only we could say, “Jesus—you eat with whomever you want to,” and be done with it. But Jesus ISN’T playing by those rules. You see, the trick is—and I think the Pharisees and scribes were on to him—that Jesus is eating with whomever he wants to; but, it means that he either isn’t eating with “us,” or, he is wanting “us” to eat with him—AND, “them.” And there, maybe, is the rub.

I believe the implication for us is that the people Jesus likes to eat with, should be the same people we like to eat with. Except, we don’t like to eat with those people! We know who they are. And I think there’s no two ways about it—if we’re grumbling about “those people,” we’re really grumbling about Jesus. If we don’t want to eat with “those people,” we’re really refusing Jesus. And if we’re “refusing Jesus…,” well, unfortunately there are too many so-called “Christians” out there who would tell us we’re going straight to hell for that.

Thankfully, that isn’t what Jesus says—at all! Instead, Jesus tells parable after parable—so that maybe we can “find ourselves” in them.

“Which one of you, having a hundred sheep and losing one of them, does not leave the ninety-nine in the wilderness and go after the one that is lost until he finds it? When he has found it, he lays it on his shoulders and rejoices. And when he comes home, he calls together his friends and neighbors, saying to them, ‘Rejoice with me, for I have found my sheep that was lost.’

“Or what woman having ten silver coins, if she loses one of them, does not light a lamp, sweep the house, and search carefully until she finds it? When she has found it, she calls together her friends and neighbors, saying, ‘Rejoice with me, for I have found the coin that I had lost.’

Maybe you see yourself, or somehow find God in the face of a lowly shepherd, in charge of the smelly, head-strong sheep; or the woman, likely a widow, whose “life savings” or “net worth” seem to add up to only 10 days worth of work. Maybe you think of yourself as that smelly sheep, somehow lost or injured, and how good it feels to have the shepherd come and find you. Or perhaps, you imagine what it must be like to be fussed over like the coin; with someone dropping everything else, to sweep the whole house and not do anything else until you are found, and restored safe and sound. Maybe you even think of yourself as a friend or neighbor invited into the joyous celebration—a party, like you’re the honored guest.

But Jesus is really more pointed than that, isn’t he? “Which one of you, having a hundred sheep and losing one of them, does not leave the ninety-nine in the wilderness and go after the one that is lost until he finds it?” And most of the time we end up talking about “how” the person in charge of the sheep could do this “crazy thing” of leaving the 99 sheep behind to go out and look for the one that is lost. I mean if you’re looking to cover all your bases, it’s “smarter” just to let the one go and try not to loose any more of the 99 remaining, isn’t it? But this isn’t about the odds. This isn’t really about the lost one being found, and yet it is. Pay very careful attention to Jesus telling the story. Notice what happens when the one sheep is “found.”

“When he has found it, he lays it on his shoulders and rejoices. And when he comes home, he calls together his friends and neighbors, saying to them, ‘Rejoice with me, for I have found my sheep that was lost’.”

It’s true that the one sheep is found; but it also seems that the one sheep isn’t returned to the other 99. Jesus tells us, “When he has found it, he lays it on his shoulders, and when he comes HOME…” And as strange as it sounds, the other 99 seem to be abandoned! The lost sheep, upon being found, is taken home and a celebration ensues. And the other 99? …Who knows what happens to them! After all, Jesus’ point is that the 99 are not in need.



The point, it seems, appears to be different from our assumptions.

“Which of you?”, asks Jesus, does this?

And if we’re honest, the only answer is, “not I.” We’re not like the one who leaves the 99 in search of the lost one. That’s Jesus’ point.

“Not I,” we must say, because the joy to which Jesus calls us is only something the Kingdom of God can inspire in us/with us/for us. It is not something we can do for ourselves.


In the same way, “What woman?”, asks Jesus, is like the one who sweeps the house for the coin?

And again, if we’re honest, “none that we know.”

Because this joy to which Jesus calls us is only found in/of the Kingdom of God. It is not in our nature, our human nature. It is only found as we are transformed… refashioned to be Kingdom people.

Jesus’ point, I believe, is that when we are transformed, then we are kingdom people—who need to show no fear, who can be undaunted in the face of many things, who can be moved to welcome and eat with the same people Jesus does.

I think that’s what Luke wants to demonstrate for believers about sinners and repentance. It’s not about being “lost” and then “found”—no matter how good that kind of story sounds or feels. It’s about what happens to us along the way. It’s the transformation. It’s not the lost sheep or the lost coin that gets transformed; it’s the person who leaves the 99 sheep, finds the 1, then heads for home to celebrate. It’s the woman who sweeps the house until the lost coin is recovered; then calls the neighbors to celebrate. And without the Kingdom of God, neither one is looked upon as trustworthy! In that respect, both of these characters share something with the “sinners” Jesus is welcoming and eating with.

As we hear these stories, while there’s something endearing about the one who finds the lost sheep and the woman who recovers her coin, the truth is that neither of them gets interpreted correctly in our time. The relationship between sinners and Jesus is one of transformation. And all too often, our “objection” is like the Pharisees—demanding the change be evident long before any welcome should be extended. But Jesus seems to demonstrate that it’s the Kingdom of God—itself—that has the ability to change the world—AND transform sinners. So that we see Jesus unhindered and showing no fear, even in welcoming and eating with sinners, or whomever else he wants to. And so can we.

My friend Chris Levan talks about the nursery school rules about sinfulness and forgiveness we continue to perpetuate into adulthood. That too often we try to implement a belief that we as human beings are so bad, so sin-prone, that we need Jesus to make us right—as if “forgiveness” were held out as some kind of “hoop” we have to jump through in order to be welcomed. But really, he says, we need to simply recognize that God in Jesus is calling us to live the kingdom life—no matter who we are, or what we’ve done. It isn’t our inherent “badness” that needs to be remedied by Jesus; instead, we need to hear the Kingdom’s welcome, and join the meal.

Too often, we think such grace of repentance and forgiveness promised to everyone is going to result in someone “undeserving” gaining the benefits of heaven. We wouldn’t want that! But Jesus’ view is that the Kingdom of God changes lives and transforms the world. The Kingdom of God calls all people to be changed, to live lifestyles of discovery, joy and celebration. And it isn’t a call simply to “go back,” or a return to the way it was; it’s a call that leads us out of life in this world, and into the life of the Kingdom of God. And the kingdom accomplishes this with the welcome or Christ and a meal.

The Kingdom of God compels us with a welcome and a meal. Even as we might think there are some things and people who “don’t belong.” So we know, whether it’s controversial religious issues, complicated political advertising, or contagious views of people who are generally poor and sinful—we know what it’s like to look down our long noses at people who seem “less deserving” than we would think of ourselves; we know what it’s like to judge others “less pure” or least justified.

But just so we’re clear. Just so we see that Jesus is clear. The Kingdom of God isn’t hung up on our distractions. The lost being found results in joy—always and everywhere. Perhaps our question ought to be, why is that joy not ours, too?


--+ Brothers and Sisters, God sent God’s son, the Christ. We often greet him in joy; but he is calling us to welcome “them” with the same joy. How long will we let our grumbling greet Christ’s joy? Jesus eats with whomever he pleases, and invites us to the party. What’s not to like. Who’s not to love. Why can’t we share? AMEN.

Audio Link and Sermon Manuscript for Sunday, September 05, 2010

If you'd like to hear the sermon from September 5th, 2010, click on the link below and download the audio file: 

http://www.box.net/shared/8e30nzbgtv


For your convenience, the manuscript I used is also provided below: 



The Twenty-Third Sunday of Ordinary Time; September 05, 2010
Park Avenue Presbyterian Church; Des Moines, Iowa
Texts: Jeremiah 18: 1-11
Psalm 139: 1-6, 13-18
Philemon 1-21
Luke 14: 25-33 *

“Luke: What’s In Your Wallet”

--} Luke’s Jesus appears to be a direct assault on us and our values this morning. In what is clearly unique and pointed language, Luke employs a trifecta of double-negatives to tell his story:

Jesus says, “Whoever does not hate father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters, yes, and even life itself, cannot be my disciple. Whoever does not carry the cross and follow me cannot be my disciple. [If you do not give up all your possessions, you cannot become my disciple.]”

In fact, it’s such an assault, it sounds a lot like Ben Baldanza—the CEO of Spirit Airlines who told congress last month that “bringing luggage on vacation was not essential to travel”—that his airline was “helping the poor fly” by charging up to $45 for passengers to place a carry-on bag in the overhead bin. And while many people were “outraged” at the idea of having to pay as much as $45 to stow what is essentially an oversized purse, few detractors seemed to recognize Jesus standing in quiet agreement—eying our possessions with a tsk, tsk of disapproval.



The problem is, most of us DON’T hear or see Jesus that way at all.



While today’s reading from Luke’s gospel is unmistakably difficult, when we stumble across this collection of sayings, even the most ardent of believers wants to doubt its literalness. Before you believe the Bible is completely, infallibly true, you have to check your wallet—because here’s a passage that all the biblical literalists out there hope and pray isn’t right! None of us really believe it’s particularly Christian discipleship to have to hate our families, carry the crosses we’ll die upon, and we’re liberate ourselves from our “things”—especially our houses, cars, investment accounts and i-phones—no matter what the Bible tells us Jesus says.

Perhaps that’s why most sermons you’ll ever hear on this passage have to do with other things, like “measuring the cost of discipleship,” or implying that with such a “burden to bear” we’d better redouble our efforts to be ready to pay for it—or else!” Such sermons make us try harder, work longer, toil and strain for what I believe Jesus says is rightfully “impossible.” Because no one seems to ever want to admit that Jesus means what he says in verses 26, 27, and 33—“if you do not hate, carry, and give up… you cannot be my disciple.” And this isn’t the only place Jesus challenges us by saying things like this!

We Americans have always treated “faith” like a work; as if “discipleship” had some kind of special designation with salvific results. That is if we focus on becoming “disciples,” and work hard at it, we can be saved. And so to hear Jesus threaten that we somehow “cannot be his disciple,” makes most of us cringe. But notice instead how Luke seems to have created this story from several of Jesus’ sayings. Verses 26, 27, and 33—the part about “if you do not, you cannot”—seem to go together; but the other sayings about “estimating, measuring, and first considering” are just smooshed into the middle, as if they belong, when they really don’t.

As harsh as it sounds, I believe Jesus is really trying to tell us, “you cannot be my disciples.” This sounds completely antithetical to our way of life—and it is. Just as much as giving up all of our possessions or hating our families! Jesus isn’t talking to the disciples, he’s talking to the crowds; and he isn’t offering them delusions of grandeur, he’s proclaiming—it would seem to me—that because they are prone to estimating, measuring, considering first, and planning,” that they won’t make good disciples. Discipleship and the Kingdom of God can’t be analyzed and measured thusly; the ministry of the Kingdom of God can’t be estimated and planned for that way.

As strange as it seems, Jesus appears to be asking the crowds to consider something different—not to measure the “cost of discipleship,” but instead to be empowered followers in a new kind of life. We often think “disciples” are those who follow Jesus to the cross and his death; but we often forget that none of the so-called “disciples” died with Jesus. What if Jesus were re-defining “discipleship?” So that the Christian community isn’t just about retracing the routes of suffering and death, but is instead called to move boldly away from the cross into new life? If so, what might that new life look like?

I think Luke’s point is that it would be about “counting the cost”—as if we could afford to pay it. Instead, Luke seems to be showing us what Jesus did, who Jesus was, and the possibilities of living in the ways he teaches. Jesus healed people, fed them, taught, worked, but still had no place to lay his head. Jesus doesn’t ask us to only be LIKE him, but to share the things we witness him doing and teaching—so that hearts and lives might be changed like ours have!

Luke’s suggestion for believers and followers comes in stark contrast to Matthew’s vision where believers are commissioned to “make disciples.” For Luke, “making disciples” isn’t the church’s goal; but instead, believers and followers are called to “be witnesses.” And what Luke has in mind isn’t our learning to be like Jesus as much as it is giving witness to who Jesus is and what he does: healing people; feeding people; going bravely to Jerusalem and taking on the establishments of his day, but falling victim to cultural and societal norms, suffering and dying but being raised. Luke wants “followers” to become witnesses—to tell Jesus’ story, to share Jesus’ good news. And it’s in this way that Luke’s Jesus hits us the hardest—challenging our assumptions about faith and church with hating our families, cross bearing, and possessions.

But we don’t recognize the voice of Jesus, do we.

This last week when word came that a second oil platform had exploded in the Gulf of Mexico and as Hurricane Earl began churning toward the East Coast, surely you saw the same pictures I did of people clamoring to “save their possessions;” and I bet most of us still drove our cars to church this morning. In the face of Jesus’ words, our culture and society teaches us that we can have more and more and more, and that “possession” is nine-tenths of the law.

But we don’t think Jesus was right, do we.

Because as the politicians scramble for the best sound bites, trying to prove who has “family values,” most of us only sigh, “here we go again.” And where Iowa seems destined to be forced to talk about constitutional amendments against same-sex marriage, health-care and education that should be denied the children of undocumented workers, and whether or not it’s fair to talk about a candidate’s personal life as a part of the campaign—few of us are brazen enough to remind folks about Jesus’ words of hating parents, spouses, children, and life itself, might make the campaign easier!

Nor do we want to end up like Jesus, do we.

So on this holiday weekend, even though the plight of “laborers” and the job-less are at all time lows, when we’ve ended combat operations in Iraq but still stand by soldiers fighting, being injured and dying in Afghanistan, we surely don’t want our cookouts bothered by Jesus reminding us about the uneasiness of bearing the burden of the cross.

So consider this.

Recently in the mist of our privileged and busy lives as Americans, we’ve heard about devastating floods in Pakistan. There’s been flooding in Iowa along the way, too—we’ve seen the pictures and probably know folks personally who’ve been affected. But when it’s all the way on the other side of the world, the pictures don’t do us justice. Numbers recently compiled by the United Nations indicate that more than 20 million people have been affected by the flooding in Pakistan. 20 MILLION—that’s more than the 2004 Tsunami, the 2005 Kashmir earthquake in the same region, our own Hurricane Katrina, and the 2010 Earthquake in Haiti—combined!

Think of this, that while each of these disasters individually garnered huge headlines and accompanying all-out fundraising campaigns, the response to Pakistan more recently has been muted. While people are clinging to life by their very fingernails, in our comfortableness, we have more concern about the security of driving our cars and protecting our many possessions! And we dare to think things like language and religion are the things that divide people!

What might happen if we gave Jesus’ words a little more credence—and we began loving more people than just our own families, were willing to bear more burdens in common, and lost our grip on only SOME of our possessions to pay for it all. Jesus says, doesn’t he, that if we weren’t so attached to our families, if we weren’t willing to die in so many ditches, if we weren’t so hell-bent to possess so much, we might actually be able to bring along the Kingdom of God!



Today, I think many of us will see or hear that television commercial for the credit card with the ugly Vikings or other who dare asking us, “what’s in your wallet.” Because if you carry the right card, buying, spending, possession, even “hoarding” can result in more fun—you too can vacation with Vikings!

But Luke’s Jesus seems to be asking too, “what’s in our wallet.” He isn’t checking to see if we’re carrying a card that will identify us as “disciples of Jesus.” Instead, Jesus wants to see inside our wallets; because if there’s anything else in there aside from lint… we should be telling the world what we’ve witnessed in Jesus Christ. If you open your wallet, truly, and you’ve got lint, congratulations. You win a prize. But for the rest of us… anything but lint, and we need to be giving witness in all we do to the life of Jesus. [With our money, with our families, with those who are bearing burdens.] So that this world can be healed, fed, and afforded the values of the Kingdom of God.



--+ Brothers and Sisters, God sent God’s son, the Christ; while we greet him in joy, he challenges our assumptions about life and living. The bread of heaven calls us to be witnesses to God’s love, to share the sacred cup with brothers and sisters in need. It doesn’t require our faith, but rather, to be followers of Jesus. The cost isn’t high, but the words are hard; the deeds and lessons should be more than our possessions. AMEN.