I am part of a Sunday School class this summer called Saving Jesus. The video presenters week after week offer a way of understanding and appreciating Jesus that is new to many. This past week the focus was on the parables of Jesus.
Many of us are familiar with these well-loved stories Jesus told. There’s the parable of the Good Samaritan, the Lost Coin, and the Mustard Seed. In just a few words, easily understood, Jesus proclaims an incredible truth about what it means to be God’s person in the world, God, and the reign of God. Most of the time the parables are reassuring to us. We are precious in God’s sight, and there is great rejoicing in heaven when the lost are found. “Neighbor” is defined by one person willing to help another. The reign of God is life-affirming and calls us to a way of living that puts God first.
We lose track of how offensive the parables can be. Though we learned the parable of the Good Samaritan early on in life, we later come to know that the Samaritan should not have been the “hero” in the story. He was one of the most hated and despised people on earth as far as Jesus’ own people were concerned. A woman searching for anything, let alone what was probably a Roman coin, was not to be compared to God.
And then there is the mustard seed. A weed; a plant which, if given half a chance, will take over a garden or field. What does it mean that Jesus compares the reign of God to this? The reign of God is like a wild plant. Once started, it is difficult to control. In a moment, this parable, which used to reassure me that the reign of God will grow, takes on a whole new meaning! In theory I know that God cannot be domesticated, but this? I find it just a bit overwhelming to consider what the reign of God as mustard seed might do in my life, let alone in the world.
The parable of the woman who puts leaven into the dough is the same idea. Once the leaven is in there, it is in there. There’s no taking it out. Yeast is a living organism, and it will do its thing with the dough. What we need to remind ourselves of here is that leaven was not held in high regard in Jesus’ day. Leaven is what you got rid of during the holy time of Passover. Leaven was for ordinary, common days, so leaven and holiness did not necessarily go hand in hand. What does that say about the reign of God?
Though on a good day I can admit that I can’t control God, there’s still something in me that wants to keep the mustard seed in check. I don’t like weeds in my garden! So the question becomes quite evident: in what ways am I “weeding” God out of my life? How am I hoping to “manage” the reign of God? If Jesus’ words have any truth to them, my efforts will be futile, thank God! Yet, how often will we try to keep God in check? How many ways can we find to limit the full effect of God’s reign? I find it interesting that what can be reassuring, that God’s reign is alive in the world today. can also be a bit disturbing. As it turns out, the reign of God is not mine to control. Shocker! It is a God-driven reality, a reality to which we are called and in which we are invited to live.
For which of you, intending to build a tower, does not first sit down and estimate the cost, to see whether he has enough to complete it? (Luke 14:28)
In a recent Newsweek, Ezra Klein’s article“How Much Does a Gallon of Gas Cost?” (June 21, 2010 issue). points out something that has been on my mind for years; that is the true cost verses the price we pay. According to the article, economists call this “externality”, a cost “. . . that is not paid by the people using the good that creates the cost.”
For instance, during the health care debate, much discussion was given to how much this will cost. Very few voices were asking what true cost is accrued when more and more members of society are without health insurance. Though “clean coal” is promoted, perhaps the mine accident earlier this year is a helpful reminder that coal comes with a cost, clean or not. And though BP has set aside millions of dollars, the true cost of our attachment to fossil fuels goes far beyond any dollar amount. We’ve gotten away with not counting the cost for years. And it’s catching up to us. Polluted air, increased incidents of asthma, a changing climate, polar bears drowning for lack of ice, and habitat degridation are just some of the externals that are catching up to us.
Jesus warns us to not begin an enterprise before counting the cost. The verses surrounding the one given above make it fairly clear. Before you begin building a tower, count the cost. Before you go to war, do the math. Before you become one of my followers, be clear about what it will cost.
Jesus uses what seem to be very harsh words. “Whoever comes to me and does not hate father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters, yes, even life itself, cannot be my disciple.” (Verse 25) Ultimate loyalty is what Jesus is calling us to, and all other loyalties come in last. Accepting Jesus means rejecting all other claims to our devotion.
In part we can explain this away because in the ancient world there were no second-place winners. Either something is first, or it is last; no in between. Either something or someone is loved, or it is hated. Our view of the world, in which we can have several things to which we are devoted, does not work in Jesus’ understanding of things. He invites us to a costly decision.
Dietrich Bonhoeffer is well-known for his concerns about cheap grace. To paraphrase him, grace may be free, but it is not cheap. The freely given love of God calls us to newness: new priorities, new community, and new ways of living, to name only a few. If we choose to respond to the grace of God, it will cost us something.
There’s the flip-side question, too. What’s the cost of not changing? More pollution? More oil-soaked brown pelicans? What’s the cost of not accepting Jesus’ invitation to be a disciple? What blessings do we miss if we keep going our merry way? I don’t know about you, but I don’t like it when Jesus’ words sound demanding! I want faith to be comfortable and comforting. I want to follow Jesus up to the point where he starts asking me to give what I want to keep. I want to be able to determine what I will “pay” to be a disciple. Actual cost begins to sound like too much.
As much as you and I may struggle with this issue of true cost, I am equally convinced that true discipleship is worth it. If being a disciple is costly, knowing the freely given love of God is of greater value. Being forgiven is priceless. Being a part of Christ’s work in the world is a value that cannot be measured. What comes to us as a result of our choosing to follow Jesus makes the choice worth whatever it costs. Though Jesus suggests we count the cost, he also invites us to a life in him that is abundant, filled to overflowing with goodness.
Peace for the Journey!
I am part of a Sunday School class this summer called Saving Jesus. The video presenters week after week offer a way of understanding and appreciating Jesus that is new to many. This past week the focus was on the parables of Jesus.
