2022 06 25 Sermon

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Sermon for June 26, 2022 Pentecost 3 C House of Prayer Lutheran Church

Luke 9:51-62 Rev. Karl-John N. Stone

I took my boys hiking while we were on vacation. This was in upstate New York, the Catskill Mountains, about 100 miles north of New York City. To get to our hike, I drove the car deeper and deeper through the narrow valleys, up and down over hills, across small bridges over streams full of trout and tucked-away swimming holes. Finally I reached the trailhead of Peekamoose Mountain, and it’s small parking lot cut into a flat spot in the forest. We grabbed our water, snacks, and backpacks and began hiking up. Fairly easy at first, with a wide dirt trail; then getting steeper and rockier bit by bit, while the trees towered above us.

We continued like this for 2.4 miles. Sometimes we’d grab hold of a boulder or a tree trunk to hoist ourselves higher up the mountain, foot by foot. This whole time, however, there were no views, since we were surrounded by a sea of tall broad-leafed trees. As the trail got steeper, and we hiked longer, with no pay-off in magnificent views, my boys wondered—how much longer? When do we turn around? Where is the spot we are going to?

I had one advantage over them—I had hiked this mountain 17 years ago. I told them, “don’t worry—you’ll know it when you get there.” Finally we hiked past a sign that said “Elevation 3,500 feet”. At that elevation, the trees quickly changed from being tall broad leafed maple and birch, to shorter and denser pine and spruce. A few more steps and we walked onto a flat rocky ledge. All of a sudden I heard them say, “Oh, wow!” and we looked out at miles upon miles of mountains and valleys unfolding before us.

Jesus said to a would-be disciple in today’s gospel, “No one who puts a hand to the plow and looks back is fit for the kingdom of God.” Considering our mountain-climbing adventures, you might say instead that “no one who turns back before they reach the viewing spot is fit for the summit of Peekamoose Mountain.” When the goal is something so worthwhile and inspirational, usually the path to get there is steep and difficult, and you wonder many times along the way—Is the struggle worth it? Do I have the perseverance and resilience to keep going, even when the way gets rocky, and the end is nowhere in sight, and I don’t know how much longer I’ll need to go on?

In today’s gospel we overheard Jesus’ remarks to people who want to follow him; and strangely enough, he answers not with encouragement but with warnings about how hard it is to follow him. “Foxes have holes, and birds of the air have nests; but the Son of Man has nowhere to lay his head.” This saying points to how Jesus will spend much of his time traveling from town to town, and even foreshadowing his need to borrow someone else’s tomb to lay his body after his crucifixion. He’s saying, in effect, that you might expect something similar if you want to follow Jesus.

Then we heard another person saying, “Lord, first let me go and bury my father before I follow you.” To which Jesus replies, “Let the dead bury their own dead; but as for you, go and proclaim the kingdom of God.” This is particularly harsh. How many of us really would not go back and bury our own father? Not many of us, if any at all. It’s like Jesus is setting the bar impossibly high; or he’s entirely lacking in compassion.

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Finally another person says, “I will follow you, Lord; but let me first say farewell to those at my home.” Jesus says to him, “no one who puts a hand to the plow and looks back is fit for the kingdom of God.” How many of us would not say farewell to our families if we were about to leave on a life-changing adventure? What Jesus is saying just doesn’t seem very realistic.

With these sayings, is Jesus engaging in exaggeration to make a point? Or is he being straightforward about the difficulty of total commitment? Is he offering Zen-like riddles that are meant to take a lifetime of reflection to untangle? Is he speaking metaphorically about “letting go and letting God” by faithfully surrendering ourselves to Christ in all things, and trusting that God will be enough? Is Jesus talking about all of the above? Something else entirely?

In any case, the point remains that even when we have the best of intentions, it is very hard to follow Jesus. Who among us could ever live up to the example set by the Savior of the world? None of us. And even when we willingly want to surrender our lives to Jesus and learn how to be his disciples, there is a cost to following Jesus.

Even when we put our hands to the plow to go forward in faith, every single one of us will look back at some point. So who is fit for the kingdom of God, anyway? No one. And yet, every one. That’s because Jesus set his face to go the Jerusalem, and he did that on our behalf. He was willing to go to the cross, in order to make us whole. He trusted that his heavenly Father would raise him from death by the Holy Spirit, in order to open the door to eternal forgiveness, new life, and salvation.

No one is fit for the kingdom of God. And yet, in Christ, by grace, through faith, everyone is made fit, and given the invitation to follow. Step by step, day by day, knowing that we will always understand only in part; and we will always follow Jesus only imperfectly. We will make plenty of mistakes as we try to follow Jesus, and (like hiking up a mountain) we’ll sometimes wonder: Will I ever reach the goal? Should I even should keep trying.

This is the normal pattern of the life of faith, to have such doubts and uncertainties, and to realize we can’t make it on our own. Thankfully, the same Jesus who set his face to go to Jerusalem is the same Christ who sets his face to walk beside you; and he invites you to allow him to carry you when you can’t make it on your own—up the steep and rocky trails; through the deep and twisty valleys; out to the clear spot with a good view when you think you’ve lost your way—until you can say (to borrow the words of Psalm 16) “my heart is glad, and my spirit rejoices, and my body rests in hope”; and you make it to that spot where you really hoped you’d to get to (don’t worry; you’ll know it when you get there), and you simply say—“Oh, wow!” Amen.