The Cost of the Journey

Our passage today from the Gospel of Luke speaks to a difficult and universal experience: the challenge of developing and committing to a relationship with God. The good news is that on this journey with Jesus, all are welcome. We see that in the text—large crowds were traveling with him. But right after that welcoming image, Jesus stops, turns to the crowd, and lays out a profound challenge. He gives us the terms and conditions, and frankly, they are shocking.

He says, “Whoever comes to me and does not hate father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters, yes, and even life itself, cannot be my disciple.”

Let’s just pause there. That’s a hard verse to hear. It raises an immediate and important question: Is Jesus really saying that hate is a mark of discipleship? It seems to fly in the face of everything else he teaches. This is the same Jesus who told us the greatest commandment is to “love the Lord your God with all your heart… and your neighbour as yourself.” This is the same Jesus who told us to “love your enemies.” He can’t possibly be telling us now that we must hate our families and even our own lives. So, what is going on here?

Jesus is reminding us that there is a cost to following him. Discipleship costs something, and he needs us to know that from the outset. To understand the cost, we first have to get the language right. The word our translators use here is “hate,” and it’s a strong word. But as commentator Trey Clark suggests, a more nuanced way to translate it in this context is “to love less.”

Let’s try rereading the verse that way: “Whoever comes to me and does not love their father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sister, yes even life itself, less than me cannot be my disciple.”

Now, that’s still a hard saying. It hurts. It can make Jesus sound selfish. But it gets us closer to the truth. This isn’t about the absence of love for our families; it’s about the supremacy of our love for Christ. As scholar Diane Chen puts it, “To become Jesus’ follower, one’s preference—loyalty, love, and priority—must reside with Jesus over all people and things one holds dear.” The first cost of discipleship is to reorder our relationships, to ensure our ultimate allegiance and deepest love are reserved for Christ, which in turn puts all our other loves into their proper, healthy perspective.

Once our loyalties are reordered, Jesus addresses our expectations for an easy life. He says, “Whoever does not carry the cross and follow me cannot be my disciple.” Theologian Dietrich Bonhoeffer famously wrote, “The cross is laid on every Christian.” We don’t get to skip this part. As Christians, we don’t live as the rest of the world lives. Or at least we shouldn’t be. Our priorities have been re-ordered in order to bring about the Kingdom of Heaven.

And we have to remember the context here. When Jesus says these words, his face is set towards Jerusalem. Jesus knows what will happen there. Jesus is on the road to his own death, and he knows it. He is not asking anything of his followers that he is not first willing to do himself. He knows there will be a cost for him, and he wants us to know there will be a cost for us, too. Perhaps not a physical one, but something will change.

I often comment that we are resurrection people. When we talk about the church, growing the church, or looking at new ways to have an impact we often recognize that the old ways or even the current way we are doing things aren’t working. Yet, we are afraid to let go! However, if we truly believe that we are resurrection people, why do we struggle so hard against a death? What faith do we have in our God of possibilities and new life? What new thing might happen because we were able to let go of the old things.

Carrying our cross means being ready to say farewell to any person, position, possession, or even political party that compromises our allegiance to Jesus Christ. It’s a willingness to follow the way of Jesus, even if it means breaking the world’s rules and facing consequences. It’s about joining him on this road, no matter the terrain.

After relationships and comfort, Jesus addresses the final area of allegiance: our “stuff” and we’ve talked about this before. Jesus says, “…none of you can become my disciple if you do not give up all your possessions.” Again, this sounds extreme. But the Greek word he uses here, apotassō, is beautiful. As writer Chelsey Harmon notes, it means “to express a formal farewell.”

Think about that. It’s a vocal act of separating yourself from the things that have a hold on you. Imagine saying, “Goodbye, TV! Goodbye, curling iron! Goodbye, designer clothes!” Or maybe, “Goodbye to the idea that my security is in my bank account. Goodbye to my attachment to this house.” It makes me feel like I’m in a Dr. Seuss story. This isn’t just about loss; it’s about letting go and being free. We are encouraged to release our grip on the material things of this world so that we can fully take hold of the life God is offering us.

Jesus lays out these three demanding costs. And then, right after, he gives two quick parables: one about a man who wants to build a tower, and one about a king going to war. Both stories make the same simple point: sit down and calculate the cost before you start.

Discipleship isn’t a casual decision to be made lightly. It’s a serious, deliberate choice. Jesus is calling us to leave our old ways behind and reframe our lives around him. He wants us to investigate our own relationships, our comforts, and our possessions in order to move forward.

And he reminds us that we don’t do this alone. He was speaking to a large crowd, traveling with his disciples. He doesn’t travel alone, and neither should we.

So the question for us today is not, “Do you hate your family?” The real question Jesus is asking is this: “Have you carefully considered what it means to join me on this road? Have you calculated the cost? And are you ready to start walking?” Amen.