September 7th ~ To Persist out of Love

Click above to listen to a recording of Sunday's Sermon

Deuteronomy 30:15-20  

Psalm 1  

Philemon 1-21  

Luke 14:25-33  

Sermon by Pastor Joel

A few months ago, The Globe and Mail ran a story about six-year-old Brienne Glasgow, who was trying in a single day to learn to ride a bike without training wheels. Maybe you remember this experience yourself. Or perhaps as a parent. Brienne Glasgow, like so many Canadian kids before her, arrives at the park with cat-shaped sunglasses, a white bike helmet, and her first official two-wheeler. She takes a go, but with the training wheels off, she wobbles and falls. Even with a helping push and an adult holding the seat, she is too tippy to get far. Around her, kids are getting frustrated or collapsing in tears. Brienne gets up and tries again. Soon, she can travel a bit on her own, but she can’t start without help. It is getting dark, and yet Brienne keeps trying. Finally, on her own, she puts her foot on the pedal and pushes; the bike flies off and she is free. No one is – or even can – hold the seat anymore to prevent a fall, and Brienne – like all of us in that same moment – would not want anyone to do so. The pedals are hers to control. The path forward is hers to choose.

Perhaps you remember a similar moment – that breaking free from one of the strings of childhood. The first time riding a bike. The first time on the school bus. The first time driving the car alone. The day you said goodbye to your parents at residence. None of those experiences were possible without support, without lessons. And they were hard. We scraped knees. We were nervous. We had to take responsibility for someone else’s safety. We had to work. But in that moment, when they happened, our lives truly belonged to us. The path forward was our choice.

Now Jesus sounds awfully harsh for the first official week back at school and with the last chill vibes of summer holidays drifting away. Here’s Jesus, speaking to the crowd – to potential followers, like us, and telling them that to be a disciple they have to hate their parents, their siblings, even their own children and give up all their possessions. Never mind that in the first lesson we have the added confusion of reminding of us the Ten Commandments, which include the ones about honouring your mother and father, and remaining faithful to your partner.

But of course, Jesus is not telling us to hate anyone; he is making the point that to find our own understanding of the gospel, our own purpose, we must stand apart from those who, out of love, would limit our independence, or out of fear for our safety would want to keep us the same, or out of protection would not want us to risk. Because, Jesus is saying, this is what it means to follow the gospel: we must be independent, we must be open to change, and we must risk. We cannot be forces for good if we are constantly weighing the cost first. We have to hop on the bike and pedal.

Now I imagine, Jesus is making this point because the gospel makes no sense in the real world. Giving to the poor – who cannot do the same for you - is foolish if you need to preserve your own resources. Helping the sick widow will not elevate your status in the community. And yet, Jesus says, if you don’t carry the cross you cannot be my disciple. Carrying the cross makes the least sense of all. Jesus died carrying that cross even though he was an innocent; he carried that cross only for his faith and his disciples. And we are called to do the same – to pay a price for the sake of other people. Not because we are guilty. But because we must.

But should that frighten us from discipleship? Let me ask you: is it life’s being hard and challenging that truly scares you? When isn’t life challenging? It was hard for Brienne to learn to ride that bike, and yet she did it. Maybe it was hard to leave home to live with strangers; yet you did it. It is hard to get through loss and illness and change, and yet we do it every day. I don’t think the cost of discipleship that worries us is that it will be hard. It is that we can’t control what happens next. That is why that push off on the bike, that decision to put your feet on the pedals and go for it, is so monumental. You might fail. You might fall. And you might travel faster on the power of your own feet than you ever have in your entire life.

But that’s faith, isn’t it? You just have to go for it.

The part that’s cut from this speech from Jesus is actually referenced in our second lesson. Because, of course, Jesus doesn’t mean that we are to be alone and reject community in service to the gospel; rather by breaking away to find our path, we return to build better relationships and better community. What’s more, the gospel by nature is never solitary; it requires people’s working and debating and making hard decisions together.

And that’s what Paul, from prison, writes to his friend Philemon; he is sending him Onesimus, whom Paul befriended, and asking him not to keep him as a slave but to welcome him as a brother. I could command you, Paul writes, but I would rather appeal to you on the basis of love. Do the right thing, Paul is saying, not because you owe me one, but because you choose to do so with kindness and faith. And harsh as Jesus sounds, the same message is meant for us. If we release ourselves from one set of rules for the sake of the gospel – if we put justice above self-advantage, and generosity before wealth, and the stranger in need ahead of our mother who is not in need – if, in fact, we persist out of love, we cannot fail.

I don’t know what that persistence looks like today, this week, for each one of us. Maybe we don’t know yet. It might be forcing yourself to say hello. Maybe it’s writing a letter about climate change to your MP. Maybe it’s staring down a bully. Maybe it’s listening carefully to someone else. Jesus wants us to choose whatever those steps are for ourselves – and to allow others to do the same. To persist out of love. Put your feet on the pedals, trusting yourself and God, and go. Amen