Luke 14:25-33 - But (Whose) Counting - September 29, 2019

“But who’s counting?” Usually you hear that phrase spoken in a sarcastic and passive aggressive tone. For example, your spouse might say, “I’ve washed the dishes five times this week to your zero…but, hey, who’s counting?” (Obviously, someone is!) Your boss may say “that’s the 3rd day in a row you’ve been late…but who’s counting?” Or one of the ladies in the kitchen back there may look at you and say “this is the fifth time you’ve come up for seconds…but who’s counting?” That’s the way this phrase is normally used: passive aggressively, to subtly expose someone’s failure. But today we’re going to steal that phrase and change it a bit. Instead of asking it passive aggressively, we’re going to ask it honestly: whose counting? The cost of discipleship needs to be counted and paid. But, who does the counting and paying for you and I to be disciples of Jesus?

Like last week, I will ask you today: if you were simply reading this at home, what would you understand Jesus to be saying in this lesson? What would your takeaway be? I am willing to bet that you would hear this lesson through the lens of the third use of the law. The third use of the law is as a guide – to show Christians how they ought to live out of gratitude for everything God has done for us in Christ. If you read this text through that lens, you wind up hearing Jesus saying that if you don’t hate your family, carry your cross, calculate the full cost of a lifetime of following Jesus, fight and win the battle against your spiritual enemies, and give up everything you have – and do it perfectly, you can’t be his disciple, and, obviously, you can’t be saved. If that were your takeaway this morning, would you even waste your time trying? Honestly, I’m not sure I would, because it sounds pretty impossible.  

Please don’t misunderstand. I’m not denying the legitimacy of using God’s Law as a guide. The Bible itself establishes and validates this use. Psalm 119 says your word is a lamp to my feet and a light for my path (Psalm 119:105). Paul was applying the Law in its third use when he appealed to Philemon to take Onesimus back as a brother in faith (Philemon 8-10). The third use of the Law is like a set of “how to” instructions. It’s like when you buy a piece of furniture from IKEA and at first you think, “Instructions, who needs instructions?” And then six hours later you finally and shamefully pick up the instructions and figure out which pieces go where. C. S. Lewis compared the third use of the Law to stepping onto a firm road surface after being bogged down in a muddy field. [1]

And in that sense, like a clear set of instructions or a firm place to walk, the third use of the Law does provide precious and necessary guidance and relief to Christians in this life. It lights a path through the darkness of this world. It teaches us how to live and think and act. It clearly defines right and wrong, good and evil in a world which is lost in a maze of gray areas. But because there’s a little part of us that imagines that it’s up to us to earn God’s favor – and the Bible is the ‘how-to’ guide, we are tempted to read these words that way. Here’s Jesus’ guide for discipleship: first, hate your family; then, pick up your cross and follow me. And if that’s the way you understand these words then you would rightly expect worship to be a spiritual pep rally where we chant “Onward Christian Soldiers” and the role of the sermon is to verbally smack you on the butt and tell you to get out there and win one for the gipper. For those who would have that interpretation of this text, the main objective of the Church is to tell people how to build a Christian life and how to win on the spiritual battlefield. But is that what Jesus is really saying here? No.

The first tip-off is in the very first verse: large crowds were following Jesus. As we learned in confirmation class, the third use of the Law is only for believers, not unbelievers. The second tip-off comes in the two parables. He’s telling potential disciples to sit down and consider whether they have what it takes before they make the commitment, not after. Jesus is not using the law in its third use but its first use. Not as a guide but as a mirror. If counting the cost of discipleship and salvation is up to you and me – then Jesus is telling us what it will cost and demanding that we examine ourselves to see if we can pay the price.  

So let’s be very clear: if you want to follow Jesus under your own power to heaven, this is what you must do, without fail, for a lifetime. First, if anyone comes to me and does not hate his father and mother, his wife and children, his brothers and sisters – yes, even his own life – he cannot be my disciple. You must not allow anyone in your family, at any time or for any reason  come before Jesus in your life. Neither their words nor their decisions nor their lifestyles can ever lead you to doubt God’s Word, falter in your faith or fall into sin. You must fear God’s wrath more than your spouse’s rage or your child’s temper tantrum. You must love your relationship with God more than your relationship with your siblings. You must trust God’s Word more than your own wisdom, skill, experience, and emotions – when it doesn’t make sense, when it’s hard, when it’s unpopular, and yes, even when it doesn’t feel right. But that’s not even the hardest part. You must hate your own life. You must be ready and willing to sacrifice anything: your job, reputation, health, wealth – yes, even life itself if faithfulness to Jesus demands it. Sound daunting? It is. Which is why Jesus continues: anyone who does not carry his cross and follow me cannot be my disciple. Today we fashion bright and shiny crosses to decorate our homes and hang around our necks. But in the Roman Empire, the cross had only one purpose: to kill. That’s Jesus’ point here. If you want to follow him you must put to death everything that belongs to your sinful flesh: your thoughts and feelings and desires and pleasures – yes even your natural affection for your family and your close attachment to your life. All of it must die. The specifics will be different for each of us, but one thing remains the same: Jesus expects you to carry this cross – without question and without complaining. So the question is: having counted that cost, are you even going to start building the tower? Are you going run onto the battlefield or surrender before the battle’s even begun? Are you capable of being Jesus’ disciple?

If the third use of the Law is like stepping onto solid ground, then the first use of the Law is like a knife through the heart. It kills everyone it touches. It exposes the sins in my heart and life that I would rather not see. We could read these words every day of our lives and we still wouldn’t be able to carry out these demands, would we? How many times have we determined to build a magnificent tower of a Christian life – only to realize that we don’t have the resources to complete it? That our desire to keep our words and thoughts pure goes out the window the moment we get on the Beltline or step into the office? How many times have we resolved to be different, promised to never do that again, sworn to try harder, be better, make the right decisions? How many unfinished towers are lying in ruins in our past? How many things were we “going to do” for Jesus that never even got started? And what does our record on the spiritual battlefield look like? How many times have we said that we’re not going to let the devil, the world, or the flesh trick us this time – only surrender and declare peace with them by giving in to temptation? Even more damning, how many times have I left the altar, having received the body and blood which my Savior gave up and shed for me on his cross for the forgiveness of my sins, and never really, seriously intended to amend my sinful life? How many times have we left God’s house with the sentiment of the Saint Augustine: “Lord, make good, make me obedient, make me actually live as your disciple, but not yet; not today”? [2] Yes, if I read these words as a guide, then there’s always hope for me, I can always do better tomorrow (which is why we’re drawn to that interpretation). But if I read them the way my Lord intended me to – as a mirror – all hope is dashed. Jesus can tell me “how to” be his disciple until his kingdom comes and I still wouldn’t be able to actually do it. I might be able to count the cost of discipleship, but I certainly can’t pay it.

So what do we do? We give up. Yes, seriously, we give up. Isn’t that what Jesus said in the last verse: any of you who does not give up everything he has cannot be my disciple. (He’s not talking about your possessions, but everything, including your determination to follow Jesus and all the blood, sweat and tears you’re willing to put into discipleship – because everything you have will never be enough!) I believe the main reason so many people misread these words is that there is an altogether false definition of what it means to be a “disciple” among Christians today. The tendency is to think that a “disciple” is someone who does what Jesus commands. Is that true? If it is, who here qualifies? Who does everything that Jesus commands? No, a disciple is not someone who does everything Jesus commands but rather believes what Jesus has done. The example of Mary and Martha says it all: Martha is gently scolded for wanting to do something for Jesus while Mary is commended for doing nothing but listening to Jesus (Luke 10:38-42).

Give up trying to follow Jesus under your own power and listen to the good news of what he has done for you. Sometime in the hidden depths of eternity Jesus sat down and counted the cost of saving damned humanity (Ephesians 1:4). Jesus calculated what it would take to save the unsaveable, to redeem the unredeemable, to take people that were fit only for hell and make them suitable for heaven. What was that cost? Doesn’t Jesus spell it out for us in our lesson? Did Jesus hate his family? Well, he left his Father at the throne of heaven and abandoned his mother at the cross because he loved you more. His family called him crazy (Mark 3:21) and his own brothers didn’t believe in him (John 7:5) – but that didn’t deter him from carrying out his work of redemption. Did Jesus hate his own life? Well, he had no reputation, no friends he could count on, no place to lay his head (Matthew 8:20) and soldiers divided up his only earthly possessions in the shadow of his cross (John 19:23-24) – he certainly didn’t place much value on his life compared to yours and mine. Jesus shouldered a cross that was heavier than just wood – it was weighted down with our sins, our guilt, our shame, our repeated failures to take up our crosses and follow him. Jesus stepped onto the battlefield against enemies that seemed to have him outnumbered and overpowered – sin, death and the devil – and he refused to surrender, even though the devil repeatedly offered him the easy way out (Matthew 4:1-11). Jesus gathered up his infinite resources as the Son of God and built the only tower that reaches to heaven. Yes, Jesus counted the cost of our discipleship and knew that it would cost him nothing less than his life – a price he willingly paid. Jesus did what we could never do: he counted the cost and paid the price for us to be his disciples – to follow him through life and death to heaven.

If you want to be a disciple, then give up. Give up the idea that discipleship is all about what you do: you getting better, working harder – and everything that belongs to that mindset: your determination, your pride, your power, your self-righteousness. You can never build the tower of a Christian life; that’s the whole reason Jesus came to earth: to build it for you. That’s what Luther meant when he paraphrased Psalm 46 and wrote a mighty fortress is our God (CW 200:1). When you think it’s all about you and your effort – you do not qualify as a disciple. In fact, true disciples do just the opposite, they retreat regularly to the fortress Jesus built. When you run back to your Baptism, the fortress gates open for you because you bear the name of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit (Proverbs 18:10). When you run to hear the Absolution which offers you forgiveness for your sins, you’re taking shelter inside the mighty fortress of God’s grace. When you run to Holy Communion you run into a tower built of Jesus’ sacrificial body and blood. And no big bad wolf, no, not even the gates of hell (Matthew 16:18) can ever blow this tower down.

So if you want to be a disciple of Christ, there’s really only one thing you have to do. Give up. Give up thinking that Jesus died for your salvation but left the rest up to you. Give up the illusion that you can pay the high price of discipleship yourself. Stop trying to defeat sin, death and the devil with your own paltry resources and strength. You can’t do it – and neither can I. We can’t even imagine the cost of discipleship, much less pay it. Thank God that Jesus both counted the cost and paid it in full by his life, death and resurrection. This is the only counting left for us to do: count Christ as your substitute, your righteousness, your Lord and your Savior – because that, that faith, is what makes you his disciple. Amen.

[1] Lewis, C.S. Reflections on the Psalms (San Francisco: Harper Collins, 2017) 72

[2] https://www.sacred-texts.com/chr/augconf/aug08.htm (The above is a liberal paraphrase of “Give me chastity and continency, only not yet.”