The Parable of Lazarus and the Rich Man - Luke 16: 13-39

 Grace to you and peace from God our Father and from our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Amen.

“There was a rich man who was clothed in purple and fine linen and who feasted sumptuously every day. And at his gate was laid a poor man named Lazarus, covered with sores, who desired to be fed with what fell from the rich man’s table.”

Which of these two men would you say was blessed by God? Be honest. You’d say the rich man. He could count his blessings. Actually, he probably couldn’t – he would run out of fingers on both hands and toes on both feet, but at least he had blessings to count. Good things. Lots of stuff. And the poor beggar, whose name was Lazarus, he had nothing. Blessed by God? Hardly! We might suspect he was cursed by God, that he did something to deserve this lot in life. And there we would be very wrong.

Of these two men, which would you rather be? Again, be honest. It would be the one with the nice suits, the expensive cars, the servants, the Mediterranean vacations, the fine food and wine. Who, in his or her right mind, would want to be the one who had to be carried because he couldn’t walk, who had to beg because he couldn’t work, whose body was covered with painful sores and whose only physicians were the dogs who licked his sores? Who wants to be the one who could only look through the window at the rich man’s table and longed to be a dog at his feet, lapping up the table scraps?

As He does with many parables, Jesus paints this one in black and white. There is a man who is filthy rich who has a filthy beggar lying at his gate. We know the name of the poor man: Lazarus. It’s also the name of one of Jesus’ best friends, the brother of Mary and Martha whom Jesus raised from the dead. We don’t know the name of the rich man. Nor apparently does Jesus, or perhaps he’s forgotten him with the words, “Depart from me, I never knew you.”

Both men died. Death is the great equalizer. Rich and poor die alike. The rich die more comfortably perhaps, but rich and poor die alike. And then comes the big surprise. The great reversal of fortunes. In death everything gets turned upside down. The rich man loses everything; the poor man gains everything. The rich man becomes the beggar; the beggar becomes the rich man. The one who was blessed is cursed; the one who was cursed is blessed. Go figure.

Lazarus, who was carried every day of his miserable life to the gate of the rich man, is now carried by the angels to the bosom of Abraham, a Jewish euphemism for what we usually call “heaven” or what Jesus called Paradise. Let’s agree not to speculate too much about this and just let the parable speak for itself. Lazarus is in a good place, comforted, whole, happy, hanging with Abraham.

The rich man is in Hades, a bad place, a place of torment. Now who’s on the outside looking in? Where Lazarus used to sit outside and look at the rich man’s dinner scraps, now the rich man is outside paradise and he can see Lazarus hanging with Abraham. But, still, some things never change, so the rich man, who was used to ordering servants around all his life, now tries to order Lazarus to please fetch him a drink because it’s damn hot down here. At the very least, just dip the end of his finger in some water to cool my tongue. Lazarus used to long for the crumbs; the rich man now longs for a cooling finger.

And the hell of it all is that there is chasm, this huge gap the size of the Grand Canyon, that prevents that cooling finger from ever reaching the rich man’s burning tongue. The distance between the rich man’s table and Lazarus was considerably shorter, just a few feet.

I once heard a wise guy say money can’t buy happiness, but it can make your misery more comfortable. I wonder about that. I mean, if you were to ask the rich man and Lazarus in their lives who was happy, I’m sure the rich man was quite happy in his purple Steve Harvey suit, custom Tony Llama ostrich boots, sipping his Pappy Van Winkle, dining on his Salt Bae steaks. And I seriously doubt that Lazarus was happy, believer though he was, and we know he was a believer by where he ended up, since Abraham is the father of those who believe.

But when money fails, and it always ultimately fails, when you drop dead and all your hard-earned money gets fought over by your deadbeat kids, the happiness that money brings dies with it. And then what? The rich man in his unbelief winds up an eternal beggar, worse off than Lazarus. And the poor man in his faith has the comforts of Abraham.

Of course, there are no atheists in Hades. And suddenly, the rich man, maybe for the first time in his life, takes an interest in someone else and is interested in evangelism of all things. He has five brothers. They’re rich too, most likely. He doesn’t want them to wind up the same way. “Please send Lazarus to warn them.” Now he wants to bring Lazarus back from the dead because that will make an impression but would be a major bummer for Lazarus. Can you imagine being recalled from the bosom of Abraham? Ironically, Jesus actually did raise a man named Lazarus from the dead, and it didn’t do any good. They plotted to kill Lazarus too because he was making a big name for Jesus.

“They have Moses and the Prophets; let them hear them.” They have the Word written and preached. It’s there for them in church, waiting to be heard. That’s all they need to avoid the fate of the rich man. That’s all the rich man needed, and he had it all his wealthy life. Who knows? Perhaps the rich was there every Sabbath in the synagogue sitting in his place of honor as one of the pillars of he congregation. Perhaps he heard the Word every Sabbath because that’s where everyone else was and no one was doing business. Sadly, he is the weedy soil in Jesus’ parable of the four-fold soil, where the seed of the Word is planted but never takes root because the riches and cares of this world choke it out with busy calendars and commitments and concerns. Jesus said it’s easier to pull a camel through the eye of a needle than to squeeze a rich man into the kingdom. This rich man would agree.

Even if someone should rise from the dead (ie Lazarus), they still would not be convinced if they reject the Word, Moses and the Prophets. Resurrections are impressive, but even the greatest miracle won’t produce even mustard-seed sized faith without the Word. Faith comes by hearing the Word of Christ – the word of forgiveness in Jesus’ name, the word delivered in Baptism and Supper. The Word that declares a sinner justified before God solely for Jesus’ sake.

There’s one final thing that gets me in this parable. In his life, I bet everyone knew who the rich man was. We know them, too – at least by name: the Bill Gates’, Mark Zuckerbergs, the Jerry Jonses of the world. But, in the parable, he is unnamed. Some Bible translations call him Dives, which is Latin for “rich man,” but that’s not a name – that’s a description. He has everything except a name. Contrast that with the poor, the homeless, the helpless. We see them at street corners and in front of stores, holding signs and rattling cups of change. To us, they are nameless; frankly, they are barely people. In the parable, it’s the poor man, Lazarus, who is given a name. He has nothing else – no possessions, no help, no crumbs – but the Lord saw fit to name him. Why is that? It’s not that God doesn’t love the rich man – Jesus death was for him, too. Why is Lazarus named?

It’s so that you see yourself as Lazarus. Helpless and hopeless in our poverty, sick unto death, longing for the crumbs that fall from God’s table. God, through Christ, names you as His own, gives you His Son’s name in Baptism – Christian – and washes you with Baptismal riches so that you, too, inherit the Kingdom of Heaven. He feeds You from His table on His own Son’s Body and Blood. He applies the soothing balm of forgiveness on your wounded heart, mind, and conscience. And, on your last day, like both the Lazarus of the parable and Lazarus, the friend of Jesus and brother to Mary and Martha – I don’t think it is an accident that Jesus names this parable character with the name of the man whom He raised – on your last day, you, too, shall be welcomed to the bosom of Abraham. “Blessed are you who are poor, for yours is the kingdom of God.”

In the name of Jesus,

Amen

The Hardest Parable - The Unjust Steward: Luke 16: 1-13

 Grace to you and peace from God our Father and from our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Amen.

“Then the master commended the dishonest manager for his shrewdness…” What in the wide, wide world of sports is going on in this parable? A manager is busted for some kind of unethical or illegal business practice and gets fired. Too proud to beg and too stubborn to get dirty, and hoping to convince someone into giving him a new job, he finds people who owe his boss and starts writing down their debts by up to 50%.

What we expect is that when the boss suddenly gets only 80% or 50% of his investments returned, he goes into a rage, demands the manager be arrested, his assets frozen and liquidated, and that the Jerusalem Street Journal publishes an exposé on corrupt middle managers and the harm they do to the banking industry.

That’s what we expect. That’s not what we get. “The master commended the dishonest manager for his shrewdness…” This is a strange story all the way around. It would be strange if it was in today’s Bloomberg Business Report, but it’s even stranger because it is a parable of Jesus. It’s supposed to tell us something about the kingdom of heaven, about God acting in mercy and grace through Jesus Christ. You know, the kind of stories we got last week with the Lost Sheep, the Lost Coin, or even the Prodigal Son. Instead, we get a story of the master commending the manager for being a quick study in – what? – Machiavellianism – the end justifies the means? Saving his own neck? Give away money that wasn’t his to give, in effect, stealing and helping others steal? Is that what Jesus is teaching us about discipleship? That it’s OK to steal if it means we can make our lives easier as a disciple in the world?

Without a doubt, this is one of the most difficult, if not the most difficult parable to study. Yet, that is the exact reason why it’s important for us to look at it and consider it this morning. Surely, there is something new to understand, at least somewhat, about Jesus. Let’s go on a bit of a Biblical, literary journey, a theological mystery, if you will, of trying to figure out what is all going on in this parable that we know as the unjust steward.[1]

Let’s start here: is the steward a good guy or a bad guy? Depending on how we read the parable, we can make him out to be either the hero or the villain. If we make him out to be a bad guy, then the master’s commendation is seen as sarcasm and the moral of the story isn’t much more than what the surgeon general might print as a warning: “Shady dealings are hazardous to your soul’s health.” Let’s assume, at least for now, that this is NOT what Jesus is trying to teach us, so let’s work with the steward as being a good guy.

So, let’s go back to the story for a second. Someone informs on the steward, telling the rich man that his manager is wasting his money. Ah – this is interesting. Jesus uses the same language for the prodigal son who wasted his wealth, also. The manager, like the son, has lost everything. It’s as if he’s dead. He has nothing left of his old life – nothing at all.

So, he drops dead to his old life, his old responsibilities, and his old way of doing things. Because he is freed by his death to think like he’s never thought before, he is able to become an agent of life for everyone else. By forgiving portions of others’s debts, he is giving them life. It’s funny: these debtors didn’t want to deal with him before because he controlled their death; now, with him dead to all the laws of bookkeeping, they are receptive to his new method life-crediting. They trust him because he's a crook! And, joy of joys, life begets life, so much so that even the master himself experiences a rebirth, rejoicing at the new life given to all.

So, in other words, this isn’t a parable about money at all. Instead, it’s a parable about a crook, and life, and forgiveness, and grace, and compassion.

So, seeing this parable this way, we also discover something else: it’s not a story about a money manager but it becomes a story of Jesus Himself.

Think about it: in the parable, the unjust steward becomes a dead ringer (if you pardon the pun) of Jesus Himself. He dies and rises, just as does Jesus. And, in his death and resurrection, he raises others to life. But, third and most important, he is a Christ-figure because he is a crook, just like Jesus. Let me explain.

Crooks are not respectable citizens. You might give your neighbor your house keys and ask him or her to water the plants and feed the dog, but you would never do that to a known crook. They would steel you blind. For that matter, you wouldn’t want them for a neighbor! You would never ask a crook to be your character witness, or your best friend. It just isn’t respectable. Respectability is all about power, life, success, having the winning combination of skills to make it to the top.

Grace does not come through respectability. Jesus is not respectable. Remember last week’s Gospel lesson? The Pharisees were murmuring because Jesus received and welcomed sinners – sinners being code for tax collectors, prostitutes, and those whom the pharisees considered unworthy. They murmured because He broke Sabbath customs. They murmured because He touched the unclean. They murmured because he consorted with crooks. Even when they killed Him, they surrounded Jesus with criminals.

Jesus became a crook, unrespectable and despised, so that He could catch a world that was terrified, mocked, and burdened by the “respectable” class of leaders. He became weak for us who were broken in sin; He became sin itself. He died for us who were dead in our own trespasses and sins. St. Augustine once called the cross “the devil’s mousetrap,” baited with Jesus own disreputable death. Jesus’ dying declaration, “It is finished,” was the trap snapping closed on the devil’s neck.

To push the metaphor just a bit, the cross is a trap for us criminals as well, baited with Jesus’ own criminality. See yourselves as the shabby debtors in the parable. You don’t want to try to manage your debts against God’s almighty power, but when you see your Redeemer looking just as shabby and crooked and down-and-dirty as you, you are drawn by the bait of the cross. He looks at you and holds you with formerly entrapped hands and welcomes you as friends – a whole mess of crooks. What’s a group of crooks called, I wonder? A gathering? A gaggle? A flock? A congress? No…a church, called, gathered and united together, former crooks now made saints in the blood of Jesus.

What a picture, huh? Identifying this crooked manager with Jesus and then calling Jesus a crooked thief – why, it’s almost scandalous! It’s disrespectful; it lowers standards; it threatens the good order of things.

Yes – yes it does. That’s the very reason the leaders of the people and the forces of the self-righteous sought to get rid of Jesus.

And, it is a very real temptation that we face still today, wanting to fancy and gussy up Jesus, changing Him into a respectable citizen from the attractively crummy crook that He is. We want to clean up Jesus because we want to be cleaned up. We don’t want to be riffraff and cons; we want to be civilized and respectable.

But Jesus remains the ex-con, the crook, the criminal, the one with the checkered past who stands in front of us and in front of Master God. He mediates for us and advocates for us fellow crooks and criminals and debtors. And, we trust Him because He is like us in every way. Like the steward in the parable, He is the only one who is able to convince Master God to give us the kind word of mercy.

“And the master commended the dishonest manager for His shrewdness…” “Therefore God exalted him to the highest place and gave him the name that is above every name, that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and every tongue acknowledge that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father.”

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[1] I am indebted to Robert Farrar Capon’s book, Kingdom, Grace, Judgement: Paradox, Outrage, and Vindication in the Parables of Jesus for this understanding of the parable. Portions of this sermon are borrowed liberally from the chapter on this parable called, rightly, “The Hardest Parable,” pp. 302-309.

Jesus Welcomes Lost Sinners - Like 15:1-10

“Who shot J.R.?” That was the great question that came out of the Dallas cliffhanger in 1980. I remember my parents talking with their friends, trying to figure out the “whodunit.” On their Friday night TV screen, they saw someone shoot J.R. Ewing and as the scene faded out to black, he was left lying on the floor. Millions of Americans were left in suspense all summer and fall long. That’s what a cliffhanger does – it leaves you wondering how the problem is going to be resolved.

In this morning’s Gospel lesson, Jesus employs a similar technique as he tells two parables. In the first parable, Jesus tells the parable of the good shepherd who discovers that a sheep is missing. Leaving the 99 others safe in their sheep pen, he travels into the wilderness to find, rescue and bring home the little lost lamb. In the second parable, Jesus tells the story of a woman realizes that she is missing one coin. She lights every lamp in the house and begins searching through every nook and cranny until she finds the one missing silver coin. In both parables, when the missing one is found, the rescuer “calls friends and neighbors to celebrate and rejoice, for what was lost is now found.”

What makes these parables cliffhangers is that while the invitation is offered, Jesus does not tell us about attendance at the party. The hearers are left to wonder, “Who is going to that party?”

Think about it for a minute… now, the celebration for the return of the Prodigal Son (which happens later in this chapter) we get – the son, who was feared dead, returns home. That is reason to celebrate with family and friends and neighbors. But this? We’re talking about finding a lost animal – one of 100, by the way – or finding a lost coin – just ten cents on the dollar. 

I remember when I was a boy and a calf got out of the pasture. We called our neighbors to help keep an eye out for that little rascal, and when we found it, we called them to tell them it was home, but we didn’t throw a party. Who would come to a party for a lost calf? (Besides…the irony of having a hamburger cookout for the return of a calf is just too funny…) And when Mom finally found missing cash that she forgot she hid under the rug in her room, she didn’t call her friends over for cookies and tea. In fact, I don’t know that she told anyone besides us! Who would go to a party for a returned calf or a discovered $50 bill? Even now, if you invited me to celebrate the returning home of Fluffy who strayed or finding a $10 bill you forgot that was in a secret place, I would probably have a reason – ANY reason – to not bother showing up that night. Would you go to a party like that? I doubt it.

That’s exactly the point.

Listen again to the first sentences of Luke 15: “Now the tax collectors and sinners were all gathering near to hear Jesus. And the Pharisees and scribes grumbled saying, “This man receives sinners and eats with them. Then, Jesus told them this parable…”

Scandalous behavior, this. Jesus receives sinners. Their specific sins aren’t noted, but it’s not really necessary that we know their specific misdeeds against God and man. The unspecific sinner is part of the unholy trifecta of tax collectors, prostitutes, and sinners, all despised and scorned by the Jewish leaders and the “good” citizens. I imagine some were guilty of civil crimes against others - theft, for example. Others were guilty of breaking religious law, like being unclean - eating the wrong thing, touching blood, touching a dead person or animal. Others were just Gentiles, making them guilty by association. Whatever they had done, in the end it didn’t really matter. They stood condemned in the court of public opinion with the Pharisees acting as judge, jury, and reporter, telling everyone else that these people were “sinners.” And Jesus - Jesus, of all people! - was receiving them and eating with them!

To receive someone is to welcome them, not just as a guest, a stranger, into the home, but to welcome them as if they were as close as a brother. It’s the same notion that Jesus uses when He says, “He who receives me, receives Him who sent me,” that is, if you welcome Jesus as a brother, if you receive Him by faith, then you are also a son (lower case S, of course) of God. To receive is to be in familial relationship. Jesus is welcoming these people, the miscreants, the ones with criminal past, the ones caught in the wrong bedroom with the wrong person, the ones with dark secrets that they pray never see the light of day, Jesus receives them into His presence.

But, it was more than that. Jesus also eats with them. In the ancient world, eating with a person was one of the most personally intimate things you did with people. Food was shared by dipping your hands into a bowl, perhaps with a piece of bread - think something like pita bread or thick tortillas, not Mrs. Bairds - as a serving utensil. If you are sharing that kind of meal, you want to know whose hand is dipping into your food, and you want to know the person attached to that hand, what he or she does, where he or she has been, what he or she has been doing. You want clean hands at your table - not just physically clean, but ceremonially clean as well, so that you don’t become unclean.

To sit and eat with someone like this, then, is to go one further than receive. Your guest is welcomed not just as a brother, but as someone worthy to be your equal.

And Jesus is eating with these sinners. Why?

 Because He came to seek and to save the lost.

The parables are story-demonstrations of Christ’s love: each lost one is important enough that Jesus will leave the safe and secure behind to go find the one in danger of dying. Each one that is missing needs to be sought out and found and returned to its place with the others. These missing ones, these wandering ones, these lost ones --- these are the sinners whom Jesus loves. Jesus love is magnanimous, and when He finds the lost one, instead of dragging the broken and hurting soul and making them walk behind, Jesus lifts them with his hands, raises them, and carries them in His arms and on His shoulders.

Those hands, those arms, those shoulders of Jesus…marked by the nails of the cross, striped by the whips of soldiers, spat upon by both people and leaders, scratched by the rough timber of the cross…those hands, arms and shoulders turn in expectation to those who laugh and say, “He eats with sinners…” And Jesus says, “Yes, yes I do. I eat with them, I care for them, I live for them and I die for them. I rise for them. I forgive them. I bless them. They were so lost they didn’t even realize it! So I sought them out, rescued them, and am carrying them home. Come and celebrate! Rejoice!” The invitation…the invitation by Jesus to celebrate because the lost – the sinners, the ones most needing Jesus – are restored. The celebration is prepared for what was lost is found! And the invitations are sent in hopes that everyone else rejoices, too.

It’s not only an earthly celebration, but one that continues into eternity as even heaven rejoices as Jesus receives sinners, carrying them with nail-marked hands and whip-scarred shoulders and welcoming them through water and Word into the family of God. Then, He invites us to table with Him, feasting on His very body and blood for the forgiveness of those things that once branded us as sinners. Our sins covered in the blood of Jesus, God welcomes the repentant sinner.

Usually, we think of repent as a change, a turning, of heart, mind and body. There is sorrow and contrition and a pledge to change when we repent of our sins. Here, repent has a little different idea behind it. In the parables, how could a lost sheep repent? How can an inanimate coin repent? The recovery, the saving, the finding is all done by the shepherd and by the woman, both determined to find the lost. The sheep, the coin – they can’t do a thing! In fact, if you think about it, for all intents and purposes, it is as if the lamb is dead and the coin a dead asset. Wonder or wonders, it is the fact that they are lost and presumed dead that makes them so wonderfully, ridiculously valuable to the shepherd and the woman – and, for God.

You see, it is not our goodness and our richness of life that makes us worthy to God, but our being dead in our trespasses and sins that makes us most valuable to God that He sent His Son, Christ Jesus, to rescue us. We have no power, we have no way to save ourselves or even argue our worth.

In these parables, repent isn’t so much about changing as it is being received. When Christ receives us, welcomes us, and invites us to feast with Him, the word of absolution and forgiveness is full and complete. God doesn’t say He understands our sins, or that He gives us a mulligan. Instead, He disposes of and finishes our dead lives and raises us new ones with Christ. He doesn’t heal our sinful boo-boos; He drops them into the empty grave of Jesus where they do not come back to life. He forgets our sins there, in Jesus’ tomb. He remembers our iniquities no more. Instead, He and all the hosts of heaven rejoice as Jesus carries us into His presence.

Discipleship Under the Cross - Luke 14: 25-35

Grace to you and peace from God our Father and from our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Amen.

Jesus said, “If anyone comes to me and does not hate his own father and mother and wife and children and brothers and sisters, yes, and even his own life, he cannot be my disciple. Whoever does not bear his own cross and come after me cannot be my disciple.”

On the one hand, these words are easy enough to understand. The words and sentences are simple. If you want to be a disciple of Jesus, you must hate family and even yourself and tote your cross as you follow Him.

That’s what the words say; that is the easy part. But, on the other hand, is that Jesus really means? Is the Lord of Love teaching the very antithesis of love, that we should literally spite our parents who reared us and our children whom we reared? For that matter, are we released from the pledge to our spouse to love, honor, and cherish in sickness and health and remain faithful til death do us part? 

No – no. Jesus did not come to undo the Law and the Prophets; He came to fulfill them. He’s not tossing aside the 4^th Commandment or the 6^th Commandment. What He is doing, though, is emphasizing the importance and necessity of following Him first and foremost. He’s using a rhetorical device where one thing is overstated to emphazise the other. He’s not teaching hatred. Rather, Jesus is saying that all other people, even your own self, are secondary to Him. Yes, you love your parents and children and neighbors, but never at the cost of loving Jesus first and foremost.

Jesus is speaking to the crowds that are following after Him and the Twelve. Some are there, truly wondering if Jesus really is Messiah. Some are there with simple faith that is continuing to grow. Some are there out of idle curiosity. Some are there hoping for a taste of the kingdom they presume He will bring with power and authority and armies. Here was a Man, a worker of miracles, a teacher of great parables, so filled with gravitas that being His disciple, following after Him should be a piece of cake and bring all sorts of health, wealth and happiness. 

Wrong. Discipleship isn’t easy. Whether it’s today’s prosperity-gospel preachers on television or the glory-hungry crowds that followed in Jesus’ footsteps in ancient Jerusalem, we do not get to set the terms on discipleship. It’s simply not possible, not is it permissible, to come to Jesus with explicit, up-front expectations of what discipleship is and our anticipations of what discipleship will give to us.

No one can come to Jesus, to follow Him as a disciple, and say, “Well, Jesus, I want to be a disciple, but I want you to know up front that my parents are really the most important people to me.” Jesus says you can’t do that. We can’t say, “I’m excited to begin this new life of discipleship, Jesus, but I’m not really into suffering, especially if I have to risk my friends, my job, and my good reputation I’ve worked so hard to attain.” Jesus says you can’t do that. We can’t say, “I’m willing to give up almost anything, but if my life’s on the line, then I may have to reconsider.” Jesus says you can’t do that.

You can only be a disciple of Jesus if you allow Him to set the pace, to guide the journey, to make the agenda. Disciples follow, remember? You cannot be His disciple on your terms. He will not accept that kind of discipleship because that’s not discipleship. That’s not following. That’s trying to lead. You don’t know the pace He will set; you don’t know where the journey will lead; you don’t know what the agenda will be.

Jesus does. And, when Jesus does tell us what discipleship will give, it’s not what you expect: it gives the cross. “Whoever does not beat his own cross and come after me cannot be my disciple.” You don’t know when, or where, or why you may have to bear a cross.

We’re not very good at cross-bearing. At least, I don’t think we are as a society, as a culture, and even as the North American church. We’ve been told for so long in our day-to-day routine that we can have it all at little or no cost and, simply, that’s not true.

A cross is not something you chose. A cross is laid upon you. Likewise, a cross isn’t an inconvenience, or a result of a bad decision, or a difficult family situation. Heartburn, bad grades, chronic pain, even crabby in-laws – these are difficulties in life, yes, but they are not crosses as Jesus speaks of crosses.

What do crosses do? Answer that with first century lens. How did the crowd hear and understand Jesus’ words? They saw what crosses did first-hand. Crosses kill. They are instruments of suffering and death. To take up your cross is to take up your death. You can’t follow Jesus without a cross. His way is the way of death and resurrection. So if you want to follow Jesus in the way He’s going, then you need to pick up that cross of yours, and go the way of death and resurrection with Him.

Suddenly, this business of being a disciple doesn’t sound like so much fun anymore, does it? It's no wonder that many turn away from Jesus today. They did it then, too. Some will remain, but many – perhaps most – of the crowds soon began to turn away. It won’t be long that their cries go from Hosanna to Crucify Him. They don’t like discipleship. They don’t like the cross. It sounds dangerous, deadly even. The cross was too much to bear.

For most of us, we’ll never be at a position where we have to make a choice between parents or Jesus. So, it can sound a little theoretical, these words of Jesus. So, let me tell you the true story about a man named Edward Balfour. Edward grew up in a Jewish home. He want to Synagogue school and learned Hebrew. His family kept kosher and went to the local temple for worship, especially on Yom Kippur and Rosh Hashanah, making their sacrificial offerings of fasting and money, making amends with those whom they offended, and praying God would somehow be merciful for their failings. But, Edward always felt guilty, empty, and afraid.  

In his late teens, he met a Lutheran pastor who told Edward of Jesus and His death on the cross for the forgiveness of those very sins he carried. By the power of the Holy Spirit, Edward believed Jesus was the very Messiah that the Old Testament promised and at the age of 20, he was baptized in the Triune name of God. Through water and word, Edward became a disciple of Jesus. But, at terrible personal cost. His own parents denounced his Christian conversion, first threatening him and then considering their son as dead to them. When Edward became a Lutheran pastor, no one from his family came to his graduation, his ordination into the Holy Ministry, or his installation at his parish. He wrote:

God knew that my time spent among those who chose to deny Him would not be without pain, but He also knew what was necessary for me to fully comprehend the grace that He bought for me through His suffering and death. In declaring the old man dead in baptism, I am now one with the Lord. Like Him who forgave even His worst tormentors, I have forgiven those who have called me a Christ killer. I have forgiven the Jews who have threatened me and my family with bodily harm if I continue to speak of Jesus as the Messiah and I have forgiven the professed Christians who refuse to accept that a Jew can confess Christ crucified. There are days when I need to be reminded of Jesus’ suffering for me. I need to be reminded that He gave His life for those who reviled Him, called Him names, beat Him, and then nailed Him to a cross. I need to be reminded that even though I was not worthy, Christ out of his love for me died and rose from the dead so that all His children could have eternal life in Him. (http://www.ctsfw.net/media/pdfs/AJourneyfromHopelessnessBalfour.pdf)

Edward’s story leads us to the good news hidden in today’s Gospel. Jesus bears the cost of discipleship. Jesus bears the cost; Jesus bears the cross. The cross is deadly – for Jesus. He lays down His life to save the world. He becomes the world’s Sin. He dies our Death. He did not count equality with God something to be held like a treasure but emptied His grasp of all that He had to go to His own death on a cross. Jesus counted the cost of being the world’s Savior. Jesus counted the cost of rescuing you from your Sin and Death. And it was worth every drop of His holy, precious blood to save you. He gave up everything that was His – His honor, glory, dominion, power, His entire life – and for the joy of your salvation, He set His face to Jerusalem to die. He took up His cross to save you.

He didn’t ask you to choose Him. He chose you. He baptized you. He called you by His Spirit. He put you on the path of life before you even so much as twitched. You were dead and God made you alive in Christ. You were dead and God rebirthed you by water and Spirit. He placed His cross upon you, on your forehead and your heart, in token that you have been redeemed by Christ the crucified. You were captive to Sin and Death, and God made you free in Christ. Before you believed, before you were born, before you ever were, Christ was your Savior and Lord and Redeemer. You didn’t choose Him; He chose you. He laid His cross on you, not to kill you, but to bring you life.

I know…bummer of a text on a Sunday to greet new members, right? Welcome to life under the cross of Christ.

That’s where you disciples, new and old, need to be looking: not your cross, but His. This is what it means to trust. That is to say, we become disciples only by faith. And faith takes us to The Cross where Jesus died for you.

Amen.