This week, we celebrated “Blue Jean Sunday” at Christ the King Lutheran Church, meaning that following worship, we encouraged people to stay and help with some spring-cleaning projects around the church building. My sermon this week is quite similar to when this text came up three years ago, on a week when we were hosting a Sunday concert at St. Peter and I only got to preach on Saturday.
This week’s texts are Luke 9:51-62 and Galatians 5:1, 13-25. Thanks to Karoline Lewis for her “But first…” post over at Working Preacher as well as to David Lose on his In the Meantime blog. Here’s the sermon audio (the quality improves about 2 minutes in) and a video of the entire service:
A few years ago, a man named Jia Jiang did an experiment he called “rejection therapy.” He spent 100 days looking for opportunities to be rejected.
I watched a few of his videos, and he had some ridiculous requests, like asking a complete stranger on the street if he could borrow $100.
In one, he ate a burger at a fast food restaurant and then went to the counter to ask for a “burger refill”–that got him rejected! He was even rejected a few times trying to give $5 bills to random people. His goal was to get so used to people telling him “No” that rejection would no longer bother him.
In today’s gospel reading, Jesus and the disciples get rejected. They enter a Samaritan village, and Luke tells us the people of the village “did not receive him.”
I don’t know exactly what that means. Remember, Samaritans and Jews often didn’t get along very well, so maybe it was just that no one wanted to talk. Maybe Jesus asked for a meal or a place to stay and no one would help him. Whatever it is, these people are not ready for Jesus’ message.
Two of his disciples, James and John, see what happens, and James and John do not react well to rejection. In fact, they seem pretty ticked off at this village.
I love how casual their question to Jesus sounds. “Lord, do you want us to command fire to come down from heaven and consume them?”
Wait, what? Calling down fire from seems like a bit of an overreaction!
Fortunately, Jesus agrees that burning down this village and all the people in it is too extreme, so he rebukes them, and they go on to another village.
I want you all to know I’ve never prayed for God to send fire from heaven to destroy someone. Maybe you have, I don’t know. I hope not! As much as they’re over-reacting, though, I can understand James and John’s frustration. They know the good Jesus is doing. They know how important his mission is.
They’ve caught the vision of God’s kingdom, the difference his message makes in the world. And so it doesn’t make sense when others don’t understand, when this village rejects him.
We do that too, don’t we? We get upset at people who reject our message. When the people around you don’t care about what you care about, hopefully you don’t want to literally burn them up, but don’t you get frustrated?
I do. It hurts. I get it. I want people to share my passions.
It’s hard when other people don’t prioritize giving to the church. It hurts when I plan an event or activity, and people don’t think it’s worth showing up to. There are plenty of legitimate reasons to miss worship, but and I don’t want to judge, but it’s still tough when I see people out for lunch on a Sunday afternoon and missed them in worship.
Rejection always hurts, but especially when it’s over something as personal as faith and belief. It’s hard when you raise your kids to go to church every week and then they drift away.
Sometimes when your family or friends or neighbors don’t come to church, it feels like they’re saying your faith doesn’t matter. It hurts to look around and see where people used to sit, to see the holes in our community left by the people who’ve drifted away, the people who haven’t come back.
Maybe James and John’s reaction is understandable. Remember, they’ve given up everything to follow Jesus. This matters to them, just like it matters to you and me.
Of course, even though their reaction is understandable, it’s still not right, and Jesus reprimands them for it.
James and John are so wrapped up in how insulted and offended they are, so focused on how this affects them, that it doesn’t occur to them to care about the people in the village, the people they’re offering to casually incinerate. They’re so stuck on the inconvenience caused to them that they commit the sin of failing to see their neighbors as children of God.
That’s a constant temptation for us too, isn’t it? How easy it is to see others only for how they affect us, rather than seeing them as people made in God’s image.
So often the narrative in our country and media encourages us to focus on ourselves, what we have to lose, how things affect us, rather than our neighbors, rather than the least of these.
I suspect Jesus’ rebuke is for us to be a little less self-centered and a little more willing to give others the benefit of the doubt we would want. A little less willing to call down fire from heaven, to cut ourselves off from those we disagree with, and a lot more willing to accept rejection and loss for Jesus’ sake and for the sake of our neighbors.
It’s what Paul says to the Galatians: “The whole law is summed up in a single commandment, ‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself.’” The point is loving our neighbors, living with kindness and generosity and self-control, rather than gratifying our own desires.
As they’re on the road, someone comes up to Jesus and says, “I will follow you wherever you go.”
That’s good, right? This guy is doing what all of us should be doing as disciples. But then Jesus reads him the fine print. He gives him a glimpse of what being a disciple really looks like. Being a disciple and following Jesus will mean sacrifice and hardship.
It’ll involve getting rejected. As Paul says, Jesus calls us to freedom, but our freedom is to be used to become slaves to one another in love. That’s a radical countercultural idea, right? Our freedoms are for the benefit of others, not ourselves.
Jesus calls to someone else and says, “Follow me.” This one responds, “Yes, I will follow. I want to be a disciple. But first, let me go and bury my father.” Another one says, “But first let me say good-bye to my family.”
I struggle with this part of the story, because those both seem like reasonable excuses. And they’re not saying they won’t follow; they just need to take care of some stuff first. They have responsibilities.
But Jesus is on his way to Jerusalem, on his way to the cross, on his way to give his life for the world, and disciples need to be ready to follow now. Here. Right away. In this time and in this place.
There’s so much wrapped up in “But first…”. By definition, being a disciple means following Jesus. It means recognizing that life is not about us but about Jesus.
Discipleship means putting Jesus and those Jesus commands us to love before ourselves. And it can mean both being rejected by this world and rejecting parts of the world that distract us from following Jesus, crucifying to death the selfish passions and desires of the flesh.
We’re really good at finding excuses when Jesus calls us to hard things (at least I am!). Yes, Jesus, I would love to give 10% of my income to you this week, but first…well…I just bought a house, and the basement has radon and cracks in the walls and the first mortgage payment is in two weeks.
Yes, Lord, I really plan to go to worship this week, but first let me go get some groceries. But first let me clean the house.
Yes, Jesus, I’d like to advocate for your children in need, stand up for your children in prison, your children immigrating and crossing borders, but first I have to make sure no one will get offended.
What are your “But first’s”? What’s holding you back from following? As our song put it, what keeps you you standing on the shore, rather than stepping into the deeper waters? What’s holding us back as churches? Our size? The mortgage? The pandemic? People being too busy? Our own comfort levels? Fear of rejection?
Reasonable excuses perhaps, obstacles for us, but not obstacles for God.
There’s one other time in Luke’s writing when he mentions fire coming from heaven: Pentecost. The fire God sends from heaven turns out to be the gift of the Holy Spirit.
Only through the guidance of the Holy Spirit are we able to move past our objections into discipleship. The Holy Spirit is the one who makes us brave, who calls us out in faith beyond ourselves. Only by the Spirit’s help can we respond to Jesus’ call and say “Yes, I will follow. Yes, I will love my neighbors.”
Only when we are led by the Spirit can we live out those fruits of the Spirit. Imagine if instead of burning those who reject us, we called down the fire of the Holy Spirit and joined in God’s work. If we live by the Spirit, let us also be guided by the Spirit.
Let’s pray.
Heavenly Father, thank you for the gift of the Holy Spirit, who calls us to faith and empowers us to follow. Thank you for calling us to be your disciples. Fill us with your love, and help us to move past those things that distract us, to overcome our fear of rejection and put to death our own selfishness. Help us to love our neighbors as ourselves and to follow your path of life. In Jesus’ name, Amen.