Counting the Cost

Now great multitudes accompanied him; and he turned and said to them, If any one comes to me and does not hate their own father and mother and husband and wife and children and brothers and sisters, yes, and even their own life, they cannot be my disciple. Whoever does not bear their own cross and come after me, cannot be my disciple. For which of you, desiring to build a tower, does not first sit down and count the cost, whether you have enough to complete it? Otherwise, when you have laid a foundation, and are not able to finish, all who see it begin to mock you, saying, 'This one began to build, and was not able to finish.' Or what king, going to encounter another king in war, will not sit down first and take counsel whether he is able with ten thousand to meet those who come against him with twenty thousand? And if not, while the other is yet a great way off, he sends an embassy and asks terms of peace. So therefore, whoever of you does not renounce all that you have cannot be my disciple.—Luke 14:25-33

This very familiar scripture is about the cost of discipleship, the true meaning of following Jesus. Most of us grew up in churches in which texts like this were never preached about. But during the birth process of Sojourners community, it became an important message for us.

At the evangelical seminary where the community began, it was one of the first ideas that we took hold of, and it sparked a renewal among us. People began to refer to what we were doing as "radical discipleship"; the movement that began to grow among younger evangelicals in the early 1970s was first called the "radical discipleship movement." Dietrich Bonhoeffer's classic book The Cost of Discipleship became an early text for us and Bonhoeffer an early teacher.

The rediscovery of discipleship as the basic call of Jesus was the foundation upon which Sojourners was built. It has been the beginning point, not only for us but for most of our readers. But now that message comes back to us in a new situation with a new and deeper meaning. We are more aware now than before of what discipleship might mean.

In verse 25, Luke reports that great multitudes accompanied Jesus. He was becoming very popular and successful as people responded to his teaching, healing, and power. Everywhere Jesus went the crowds followed.

The disciples must have been quite excited by all this success and perhaps thought to themselves that they might have a mass movement on their hands. But just as the crowds began to swell and press in on every side, just when it looked as though Jesus had sparked a popular response, he would always begin to say things like he says in this passage. And slowly the crowds would fall away, and only the disciples would be left.

Texts like this one record what are often called the ''hard sayings" of Jesus, and indeed they are. When Jesus spoke in this way, his disciples became quite confused and disappointed. Self-doubt crept in. "What about us?" became their question.

What is the meaning of this passage for us today? Again, we see growing multitudes attracted to the gospel message. We see the beginnings of conversion in the churches. A tremendous response is developing to the biblical vision of justice and peace. Signs of new awareness and evidence, of change exist in many sectors of the church's life. Both at the grassroots and at the level of church leadership, people are speaking out and acting in new ways. The media is taking notice, and the government is increasingly worried about the new winds blowing in the churches. All of this brings us great hope.

The historical crises that have sparked this renewal of faith are the nuclear arms race, U.S. intervention in Central America, and the desperate plight of the poor not only around the world but in our own cities and neighborhoods. Here at Sojourners we see many signs of a revival brewing and a movement spreading. We have seen great response to the magazine and to our books and resources. As I travel around the country speaking and preaching, I find larger and larger crowds of concerned people—ordinary Christian people from churches across the entire spectrum of evangelical, Catholic, and all the Protestant denominations.

Peace Pentecost in May, 1983, and so many other actions for peace around the country show that we have entered a new phase of escalated Christian opposition to the spiraling arms race. One can sense a growing network of people, groups,communities, and congregations all over the country slowly being knit together.

With all the signs of hope and change, movement, and conversion I sometimes feel like the disciples must have felt at the sight of the great crowds and their tremendous response to Jesus. I too find myself running to Jesus to say, "Look at what is happening throughout the churches all across the country. It's tremendous. I see so much hope."

But Jesus says, "If any one comes to me and does not hate their own father and mother and husband and wife and children and brothers and sisters, yes, even their own life, they cannot be my disciple."

Hate. What can Jesus mean by using the word hate? It means that our love must be so great for Jesus that in comparison everything else seems like hate. Our closest relationships must pale in significance compared to our relationship with Jesus.

This scripture cuts right at the heart of some of our flimsiest excuses. We would live among the poor, change our lives, give up our securities, risk going to jail, and put ourselves on the track of downward mobility, except for our families. "What about my spouse? What about my children? I would be willing to take the risk, but my husband, my wife, my kids, what about them?"

Jesus also says we must "hate even our own life." That means even our plans, career, vocation, security, success, fulfillment in life. We must hate even our own life. Indeed these are hard words.

After hearing this, my enthusiastic report to Jesus is stopped short and becomes more subdued, but Jesus goes on. "Whoever does not bear their own cross and come after me, cannot be my disciple." In the New Testament, the cross symbolizes suffering and the willingness to suffer. Jesus says that whoever is not willing to suffer for the gospel, for his sake, cannot be his disciple.

I spent a day once with Allan Boesak, the South African leader, and his wife Dorothy Boesak, about a decade before the fall of apartheid. Dorothy spoke with great concern about her fears for their four children, for her husband's life, for the security of her family. She said, "We have had more death threats in the last week than in all the previous three months."

I was struck by what lies behind that kind of statement. What does it mean to live under the threat of death as a way of life? The reality behind Dorothy's statement is so different from most of our experience.

Dorothy went on to say that during their time here she spent some time with Coretta Scott King, which proved to be very meaningful and comforting. Coretta said that she and Martin always knew he would be killed. The only question was when. She said they received every day as a gift of the grace of God. Each day was one more day to be together.

Not long afterwards I spent a few days in St. Louis with Catholic women religious from many orders at their National Formation Conference. While I was there, an article came out in one of the local papers reporting that 35 Catholic women religious had been killed in Central America during the last five years. These Catholic women religious were beginning to understand something about suffering and the cost of discipleship.

But for most of us, suffering is still very foreign. Even though our own economic and political system stood behind the threats against people like the Boesaks and the Kings, and supported the kinds of governments that murder women religious in Central America, suffering has still been alien to most of us in the North American churches.

In the early 1980s, I was sharing with a friend the vision of a growing number of Christians in the United States to establish a presence of North American Christians on the Nicaraguan/Honduran border. The desire was to make a nonviolent witness for peace, to put ourselves in a situation of risk. We wanted to obstruct with our bodies the war being sponsored by the U.S. government that is causing such destruction and taking so many innocent lives in Nicaragua. (That vision would eventually give birth to Witness for Peace).

My friend was playing the devil's advocate. While I was speaking of the grassroots movement in the churches, how much it was growing, and how strong it was becoming, he asked, "But how deep does it go? Are people even willing to go to jail for more than a few days, or at all, let alone risk their lives for the sake of justice, for the sake of peace, for the sake of another, for the sake of poor people threatened by policies of our government?"

A few weeks earlier, another friend and I talked about the Nicaraguan witness. We spoke of the possibility of a "nonviolent army" being formed. We talked of Christian people rooted in prayer and the Bible, ready to intervene non-violently in situations of conflict, especially where the U.S. government and its policies are a great source of human suffering. We both became very excited as we talked, but when I raised the issue of not paying war taxes, he responded as many of my friends have by saying, "But if I don't pay my war taxes, I could lose my house."

Discipline. Sacrifice. Suffering. We must be willing to risk our safety and security and to put ourselves in real danger. This is the Achilles' heel of the North American middle class. The avoidance of pain and the fear of suffering are our leading characteristics.

Mohandas Gandhi led a movement for independence in India. Martin Luther King, Jr. led a movement for freedom in the United States. In each case the army of the movement was poor people—people who were used to suffering because of their daily experience. When they suffered in the streets, in jail, or on the back roads of Mississippi, it was not a new experience for them. They were ready for it. They had learned freedom would have its cost, and they were willing to pay it.

The great uncertainty of our movement, the great uncertainty for ourselves is, are we ready and willing to suffer? Suffering is foreign and feared. When (not if) the time comes, will we be prepared to suffer for justice, peace, the lives of other people, and for those who are threatened by the policies of our government?

To a great extent, the peace movement is still based on self-interest, fear, and desire for survival. I remember a comment made in our neighborhood by an old black man at the beginning of the nuclear freeze campaign. He said, "You know, white people have always gotten organized when their survival was at stake. When will they ever get organized for the sake of our survival?"

The peace movement has too often not been based on a willingness to risk and suffer. My friend playing the devil's advocate made another telling point. He said, "Ultimately disarmament will take risk and will require more than simple, rational persuasion. It's not honest to tell people that disarmament will come without any threat to their security, without any changes in their lifestyle, that there are no chances to take, that it's simply a matter of convincing people to be more reasonable."

It is true that disarmament will entail risk. Those in the peace movement who say there is no risk in disarmament are simply not being honest. And even more than being aware of the risks, people will need to be ready and willing to take them.

"For which of you," Jesus says, "desiring to build a tower, does not first sit down and count the cost, whether you have enough to complete it?"

"But Jesus," I say, "these people are really interested, they're really concerned." Jesus always replies, "But have they counted the cost?"

An undeniable shift is taking place in the North American churches. We have moved from being almost totally unaware of the gospel's meaning to a new place where we are genuinely interested in renewal. We are excited about discipleship. We are beginning down the path of the kingdom. We are part of a growing multitude following after Jesus and hanging around the gospel.

Many people these days are wanting to hang around the gospel, hang around the places, people, actions, and communities where the gospel is being rediscovered. But when the hard word of Jesus is spoken, the crowds trickle away again, and only a few remain.

Are you interested? Count the cost. Are you excited? Count the cost. Do you think you are ready to follow Jesus? Count the cost. This is the clear message of the passage. It is as if Jesus says, "Don't be like those who start a building, lay a foundation, but never finish it. People will mock you and your faith."

The cynics will rise up to say, "Great movement, eh? Christian opposition? Radical discipleship? Political resistance? Constructing alternatives? Where? Show us. We don't see it. You never finished." Instead, we will have left only half-completed works, projects, actions, communities, and it will all be in ruins, memorials to a movement that did not count the cost.

Jesus points out that those who make war always count the cost. They are realistic, and they prepare. To make war, soldiers accept discipline, and sacrifice, and are ready to suffer. The cost does not take them by surprise. But what about those who would make peace, who would seek justice?

Are we ready? Are we prepared? Will we be surprised by the cost and then turn away?

If we are not ready, we had better go to our adversaries—the rulers, the governments, the powerful, the war-making institutions, the systems, the large corporations—to make our peace, negotiate, and compromise before we get routed in battle. This is what Jesus is saying. We had better count the cost.

Finally, Jesus gives us as hard and stark a word as exists in the New Testament. He says, "So therefore, whoever of you does not renounce all your possessions cannot be my disciple." In other translations it is often rendered, "So therefore, whoever of you who does not renounce all that you have cannot be my disciple."

Anything we cannot give up will certainly get in our way, hold us back, slow us down, be a heavy burden, and be used against us. That is a fundamental principle of the gospel. Those who have many possessions are not free. North Americans are not free.

Perhaps the reason we speak of freedom so much in this country is because we have so little of it. Freedom is not a license to accumulate, as some think. Rather, freedom is measured by how much we can give away, how much we can give up. We are not free in the United States because we are slaves to our wealth and security. Yet Jesus is asking if we are free enough to follow him.

Whole nations, regions, and continents in the world have become virtual prison and death camps. The walls that surround these vast regions of suffering were built by us. We have needed these walls to protect our security and investments, to keep the poor out of our lives and under control.

But the walls now have grown and extend farther than we can see. The walls that we have built now surround our own hearts and minds. We too have become prisoners. We are prisoners of our own desires, security, and wealth, even of our own power. We have gone so far in our desire to protect ourselves and our security that now we threaten the world with a magnitude of violence that will destroy all of us on either side of the walls.

But something is happening inside the walls these days. They are the freedom movements. Inside the walls of Central and South America, South Africa and the Philippines, freedom movements are growing. Those who are rich and comfortable and well-armed in the world today are the least free of all. But those inside the walls—the poor and oppressed—are building a freedom movement.

Jesus also says, "Come to me all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest ... For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light" (Matthew 11:28, 30). But to follow him, Jesus asks us to love him more than any other, even more than our own life. He asks us to take up the cross, to bear it as he did, and to be willing to suffer for his sake.

Jesus asks us to count the cost. We cannot know everything that lies ahead, but we need to be ready to do what he asks of us. He expects that if we start with him, we will be prepared to finish with him also. He asks us to give up everything else so we will be free enough to follow him, not by standing still, not by trudging and plodding, or even by just walking, but by running after him—unfettered, unencumbered, and untired.

When Jesus gave his disciples the great commission, he also gave them an extraordinary promise. He asked them to give up everything else, but he promised to give them the most important thing of all. That promise stands for us as well. Jesus says, "Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, ... teaching them to observe all that I have commanded you" (Matthew 28: 19-20). And then he promises us the best gift of all, "Lo, I am with you always, even to the close of the age."

Jim Wallis is editor-in-chief of Sojourners.