Homilies
The Cost of Discipleship
Holy Spirit take my words and speak to each of us according to our need.
"Do not think that I have come to bring peace to the earth; I have not come to bring peace, but a sword." And then: "Whoever loves father or mother more than me is not worthy of me."
These are some of the most challenging words that Jesus spoke. They are not the verses that are usually found inside greetings cards or on church noticeboards. They can sound harsh, unsettling, even contrary to everything else we know about Jesus.
After all, this is the same Jesus who teaches us to love our enemies, to pray for those who persecute us, to forgive seventy times seven, and who blesses the peacemakers. He is called the Prince of Peace. So what can he possibly mean in these statements?
The first thing we need to understand is that Jesus is definitely not encouraging conflict, nor is he calling people to reject their families. He is not telling us to become argumentative, difficult, or self-righteous either. Rather, he is speaking honestly about the consequences of following him. Jesus is describing a reality that his disciples would soon discover for themselves: there are times when faithfulness to God creates tension. There are times when doing what is right is not popular. There are times when following Christ places us at odds with the expectations of others and the world as it is.
The "sword" Jesus speaks of is not a weapon to be wielded. It is a symbol of division. The very next verses make that clear. Jesus speaks about family members finding themselves on opposite sides because they respond differently to his message.
He is not saying, "Go and create conflict." He is saying, "Do not be surprised when faithfulness brings conflict." That is a very different thing. And perhaps it is something we recognise from our own experience. Most of us have lived long enough to know that life is not always neat and straightforward. We know that people of can and will always disagree at some point. We know that families can become divided and estranged over matters they care deeply about.
In recent years we have seen disagreements over politics, Brexit, public health measures, social issues, immigration, environmental concerns, and countless other matters. Sometimes conversations around the table become tense. Sometimes friendships are strained. Sometimes people stop speaking to one another altogether. We live in an age where disagreement often seems to become hostility very quickly. This reminded me of a poem I used to read to my children. It was called The Zax, by Dr Seuss. It was about two creatures each going on a journey, one going north and one going south, but when they bumped into each other, they refused to move and they stood there forever as the world went on around them because neither of them would deviate from their belief that they were right.
Yet as Christians we are called to a different way. The challenge is not to avoid disagreement at all costs. The challenge is to remain faithful, loving, and gracious even when disagreement exists.
That is part of what Jesus is preparing his disciples for. For the first Christians, the cost was often far greater than an awkward family conversation. Some were rejected by their communities. Some lost their livelihoods. Some were disowned by relatives. Many suffered persecution.
Jesus wanted them to understand from the beginning that discipleship was not merely about receiving blessings. It was also about bearing a cross. And perhaps that is where this passage speaks most powerfully to us today. Because ours is a culture that often values comfort above almost everything else. We are encouraged to seek convenience, avoid discomfort, and arrange our lives so that nothing demands too much of us.
Now, there is nothing wrong with comfort in itself. A warm home, good friends, and a peaceful life are gifts from God. But Jesus reminds us that comfort is not the highest good. Sometimes faithfulness requires inconvenience. Sometimes doing the right thing is costly. Sometimes love demands sacrifice.
Many of us know this already because we have lived it. Think of those who care for a spouse whose memory is fading. Day after day they repeat the same conversations, answer the same questions, offer the same reassurance. No one sees most of that work. There is no applause. No public recognition. Yet there is something deeply Christ-like in such faithfulness.
Or think of grandparents who continue praying for children and grandchildren who have drifted away from either their faith or their family values. Year after year they pray. Sometimes they wonder whether those prayers make any difference. Yet they continue. That too is a form of taking up the cross.
Or think of those who continue to volunteer, to visit the lonely, support local charities, help neighbours, or serve the church despite advancing years and diminishing energy.
The world often celebrates power, achievement, and success. But the Kingdom of God places immense value on quiet faithfulness. The sort of faithfulness that nobody notices except God. When Jesus speaks about taking up the cross, he is not necessarily speaking about dramatic acts of heroism. More often, discipleship is lived out in ordinary acts of perseverance. A kind word when we feel impatient. A forgiving spirit when we have been hurt. A commitment to truth when dishonesty would be easier. A willingness to help when we would rather be left alone. A determination to keep trusting God when circumstances are difficult. These are the places where Christian character is formed.
And then Jesus says something even more challenging: "Whoever loves father or mother more than me is not worthy of me." And again, we must be careful in what we hear. Jesus is not saying that family is unimportant. In fact, throughout the Gospels he affirms family responsibilities. He criticises those who neglect their parents. Even from the cross he ensures that his mother will be cared for. The issue is not whether we should love our families. The issue is what comes first. Jesus is asking us to examine our priorities. What is the centre of our lives? What ultimately shapes our decisions? Where do we look for meaning, security, and identity?
These questions matter because every age has its idols. In generation after generation people are tempted to place their ultimate trust in wealth, status, or social standing. Some people place their trust in political movements. Others in technology. Others in financial security. Others in personal success. Others in the approval of those around them.
Many people organise their lives around whatever promises comfort, happiness, or security. Yet all these things are uncertain. Economies rise and fall. Governments come and go. Health changes. Circumstances alter. Relationships, however precious, do not last forever in this life. Only God remains constant.
And so Jesus invites us to build our lives upon something deeper and more enduring. Not because he wants to diminish other loves, but because every other love finds its proper place when God comes first.
Consider the hub of a wheel. When the hub is strong and centred, the spokes hold together. When the hub is missing, everything becomes unstable.
Putting Christ first does not make us love our families less. It enables us to love them better. It teaches us patience, forgiveness, generosity, and compassion. It reminds us that people are gifts rather than possessions. And it helps us avoid making demands upon family members that only God can fulfil.
Towards the end of the passage Jesus offers one of his great paradoxes: "Those who find their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake will find it." At first glance, that sounds completely backwards. Surely finding life is a good thing. Surely losing life is a tragedy. Yet Jesus is speaking about something deeper. He is talking about the difference between living for ourselves and living for God's purposes.
A person can spend an entire lifetime protecting themselves from inconvenience, avoiding commitment, pursuing comfort, and putting their own interests first. Yet such a life can become surprisingly small. By contrast, someone who pours themselves out in love and service often discovers a richness and depth that cannot be measured. We have all known people like that. Perhaps they were parents who sacrificed greatly for their children. Perhaps they were teachers who inspired generations of pupils. Perhaps they were clergy, volunteers, carers, or neighbours. Often they were not famous. Their names never appeared in newspapers. Yet their lives left a lasting mark on others.
Why? Because they understood something of what Jesus means. Life is found not through self-centredness but through self-giving love. The older we become, the more clearly we often see this truth. At the end of life, people rarely say, "I wish I had spent more time accumulating possessions." Much more often they speak about relationships, kindness, faith, forgiveness, and love. They remember moments of service. They remember people who cared. They remember what truly mattered. Jesus invites us to discover that wisdom before it is too late.
So as we reflect on this Gospel today, perhaps there are a few questions we might carry with us into the week ahead. Where is Christ calling me to greater faithfulness? What loyalties or attachments sometimes compete with my commitment to him? What cross am I being asked to carry at this stage of life? Where am I being invited to persevere rather than give up? Where am I being called to show grace, patience, or forgiveness? And how might I allow Christ to shape my priorities more fully?
Ultimately, this passage is not about conflict at all. It is about commitment. It is not about rejecting those we love. It is about loving Christ so deeply that every other relationship is transformed by his love. It is about trusting that the path of discipleship, even when it is demanding, is the path that leads to life.
And the good news is that we do not walk that path alone. The One who calls us to take up our cross is the same One who carries us when we are weary. The One who asks for our loyalty is the same One who gave his life for us. The One who calls us to follow is the same One who promises never to leave us nor forsake us.
So, whatever challenges we face, whatever crosses we bear, whatever sacrifices faithfulness may require, we can walk forward with confidence. For the road of discipleship is not always easy, but it leads us into the life of God himself. And Jesus tells us, that that is where true life is found. Amen.