Going to Jerusalem

                                          Luke 14: 1, 12-35

 

 

          A fellow decides to throw a party, a big party. He invites all the best people. When the time draws near for the party, people start begging out. They have legitimate reasons. What does the fellow do with all the preparations he has made?

          A charismatic leader rises up. Lots of people follow him. His twitter feed is full. His Facebook wall is covered. And then one day, he says be careful. Make sure you know if you can handle this. Following me is a tough gig.

           A farmer wants to build a watchtower so that he can protect his crops from thieves and wild animals. The tower is no small project. Does he have the time? Does he have the money?

A political leader convenes his cabinet. The country has been threatened with an act of war. How does he respond? Does he have the political will to finish what he starts?

These are not stories on CNN or Good Morning America. Although they could very well be on the six o’clock news, they are actually part of the gospel of Luke---stories used by Jesus to get people to understand the choices we face in life and the cost of discipleship.

Jesus is on his way to Jerusalem. Now, he’s been to Jerusalem before. Some think he went at least five times during his ministry alone. But this time is different. This time, Jesus is going to Jerusalem to fulfill the mission for which he came. Part of that mission was to live on earth as a man without sin, creating an example for us to follow. Mission accomplished. The other part of the mission lies on a hill called Calvary. The bridge to salvation, the road to reconciliation between God and mankind, that’s the reason that Jesus now travels to Jerusalem.  He has a date with a cross. Along the way, Jesus continues to teach. He teaches his disciples and he also speaks to the crowds that continue to gather around this rock star from Galilee.

It is the Sabbath. Jesus is having supper at the house of a Pharisee. Notice how Jesus tends to go where he will most certainly be provoked, because there is where he is needed most. Jesus tells the Parable of the Great Banquet, about the master who threw the big party and invited everyone who was someone. The time for the banquet arrives and people aren’t showing up. His servant goes to fetch some of the invitees, and the regrets start rolling in. One has a new real estate acquisition to check up on. Another has bought livestock and must tend to his new purchase. A third has just gotten married. And so the story goes. The servant gives his report to the master, who becomes angry and issues invitations to whoever is in the area, from the poor to the widows to the working stiffs. No pedigree is too small to be admitted to the master’s great feast.

Why does the master become angry over this state of affairs? After all, the folks we know about had good, sufficient reasons to stay away. Marriage was important enough to be exempted from military service in that day, certainly good enough reason to decline a banquet attendance. Every one mentioned has a good reason to be excused.

People from everywhere are then invited to the banquet. Poor, crippled, blind and lame fill the hall, and still there is room. People come in from off the highway, even total strangers. And the master says in v. 24: “For I tell you, none of these men who were invited shall taste my banquet.” Theologian Fred Craddock thinks that no longer is it the master in a parable speaking, but rather Jesus himself, saying to the Jewish leaders that now it will be the “unacceptable” of Israel and the Gentiles who are invited to the great banquet of salvation. It has become too late for those initially favored. In a great reversal of fortune, now the doors are open to the masses and the chosen are shut out.

Maybe Jesus was through with supper. Maybe he stepped out, excusing himself. Luke doesn’t say. At any rate, the next thing Luke tells us is that great crowds accompanied him, and he turned and addressed them. He says to them, this is not some big experiment. This is the real thing. If you want to follow me, you have to put that commitment above all else. Do your parents need you? Sorry.  Does your family, your church, your community, your wife, need you? Sorry. All those relationships and everything else is secondary.

Jesus gives examples. You don’t start a building project until you know the final cost. You don’t commit troops to battle in a war you can’t win. Now, Jesus knows his audience. It was neither the disciples nor the religious leaders whom he addressed. It was a great crowd that was fascinated with his mighty acts, but failed to grasp the significance of those acts. Jesus knew that many were only coming along for the spectacle of it all. Jesus warned them that while the reward of the kingdom is beyond magnificent, the cost of discipleship is high. Indeed, Jesus says that “any one of you who does not renounce all that he has cannot be my disciple.”

Why does Luke parallel these two stories? They don’t seem very related. One is told at a dinner, probably to adversaries, the other to a great crowd of hangers on who seem to side with Jesus, but don’t really know what to think. One is about the have’s losing out to the have-nots, the other about the have-nots being warned of a cost that is too great to pay. Is Jesus saying that if you once say no, you may be passed over?  Is this lesson of discipleship saying that if you dare to say yes, know that your life will be forever changed, that the cost will be higher than you might think? And Jesus talks about bearing one’s own cross. But Jesus has not yet gone to the cross. What is he saying? What is the common thread that Luke is weaving for us here?

The cross represented great suffering, the greatest known to man in that day. Taking up one’s cross could certainly have meant bearing up under the incredible burdens and hardships of life. And what about that common thread that unites these two divergent stories to different audiences? Well, whether you’re rich and going to a banquet or a farmer building a tower to watch your crops, there is a decision to be made and a cost to be counted. It’s not just the decision itself. It can also be the timing that is important.

Sometimes in life, we have to pick between the good choices and the best choice. There’s a saying you all have heard about friendship that sort of illustrates the point. It goes like this: A good friend knows all your best stories. A best friend has lived them with you. Do you see the difference? Do you want good…or best?

It’s easy to pick between good and bad, right and wrong. The better choice is clear. But what will you do when the choice is between good and best? There are points in our lives when picking the good thing may forever cast our fate away from the best thing. That’s why the master got angry at his invitees. They didn’t make the best choice, and it cost them dearly.

           Everyone who would be Christian is called to discipleship. In our lives, we have many loyalties: to family, to church, to community, to job. They are all important, all legitimate. But the claim of Christ takes precedence. Nothing comes before it. That claim redefines all other relationships, all other commitments.

          It is a big cost. A huge cost. For some, taking up the cross becomes much more than a figure of speech.  Know the cost and decide. It you wait too long, the door will close. If you say yes without understanding the commitment, you will only fail. Discipleship is not tricky. It’s just hard. What in life worth having isn’t! Nothing else, nothing else, carries the reward that comes from following our Savior!