Not So Fast...
Too many Christians are fair-weather fans; our call is to join the team. But know what that means before making that commitment
Get Out of the Stands, and On to the Field! But First....
Discipleship means giving one’s first loyalty. There is no place in Jesus’ teaching for literal hatred. He commanded his followers to love even their enemies (6:27), so it is impossible to hold that he is here telling them literally to hate their earthly nearest (cf. 8:20f.). But hating can mean something like loving less (Gen. 29:31, 33; Deut. 21:15, where the Hebrew means ‘hated’ and not ‘disliked’, as RSV). Jesus’ meaning is surely that the love the disciple has for him must be so great that the best of earthly loves is hatred by comparison
WHEN Jesus said this he was on the road to Jerusalem. He knew that he was on his way to the cross; the crowds who were with him thought that he was on his way to an empire. That is why he spoke to them like this. In the most vivid way possible he told them that those who followed him were not on the way to worldly power and glory, but must be ready for a loyalty which would sacrifice the dearest things in life and for a suffering which would be like the agony of a man upon a cross.
We must not take his words with cold and unimaginative literalness. The language of the middle east is always as vivid as the human mind can make it. When Jesus tells us to hate our nearest and dearest, he does not mean that literally. He means that no love in life can compare with the love we must bear to him.
There are two suggestive truths within this passage.
(1) It is possible to be a follower of Jesus without being a disciple; to be a camp-follower without being a soldier of the king; to be a hanger-on in some great work without pulling one’s weight. Once someone was talking to a great scholar about a younger man. He said, ‘So and so tells me that he was one of your students.’ The teacher answered devastatingly, ‘He may have attended my lectures, but he was not one of my students.’ It is one of the supreme handicaps of the Church that in it there are so many distant followers of Jesus and so few real disciples.
(2) It is a Christian’s first duty to count the cost of following Christ. The tower which the man was going to build was probably a vineyard tower. Vineyards were often equipped with towers from which watch was kept against thieves who might steal the harvest. An unfinished building is always a humiliating thing. In Scotland, we may, for instance, think of that weird structure called ‘McCaig’s Folly’ which stands behind Oban.
In every sphere of life each of us is called upon to count the cost. In the introduction to the marriage ceremony according to the forms of the Church of Scotland, the minister says, ‘Marriage is not to be entered upon lightly or unadvisedly, but thoughtfully, reverently, and in the fear of God.’ A man and woman must count the cost.
It is so with the Christian way. But if we are daunted by the high demands of Christ let us remember that we are not left to fulfil them alone. He who called us to the steep road will walk with us every step of the way and be there at the end to meet us.
THE INSIPID SALT
Luke 14:34–5
Jesus said, ‘Salt is a fine thing; but if salt has become insipid, by what means shall its taste be restored? It is fit neither for the land nor the dunghill. Men throw it out. He who has an ear to hear, let him hear.’
JUST sometimes Jesus speaks with a threat in his voice. When a person is always carping and criticizing and complaining, the repeated irritable anger ceases to have any significance or any effect. But when someone whose accent is the accent of love suddenly speaks with a threat we are bound to listen. What Jesus is saying is this—when a thing loses its essential quality and fails to perform its essential duty, it is fit for nothing but to be thrown away.
Jesus uses salt as a symbol of the Christian life. What, then, are its essential qualities? In Palestine it had three characteristic uses.
(1) Salt was used as a preservative. It is the earliest of all preservatives. The Greeks used to say that salt could put a new soul into dead things. Without salt a thing putrefied and went bad; with it its freshness was preserved. That means that true Christianity must act as a preservative against the corruption of the world. As individual Christians we must be the conscience of our fellows; and the Church must be the conscience of the nation. As Christians we must be such that in our presence no doubtful language will be used, no questionable stories told, no dishonourable action suggested. We must be like a cleansing antiseptic in the circle in which we move. The Church must fearlessly speak against all evils and support all good causes. It must never hold its peace through fear or favour of anyone.
(2) Salt was used as a flavouring. Food, without salt, can be revoltingly insipid. Christians, then, must be the ones who bring flavour into life. The Christianity which acts like a shadow of gloom and a wet blanket is no true Christianity. Christians are the people who, by their courage, their hope, their cheerfulness and their kindness bring a new flavour into life.
(3) Salt was used on the land. It was used to make it easier for all good things to grow. It is the Christian’s role to make it easier for people to be good and harder to be bad. We all know people in whose company there are certain things we would not and could not do; and equally we all know people in whose company we might well stoop to things which by ourselves we would not do. There are fine people in whose company it is easier to be brave and cheerful and good. As Christians we must carry with us a breath of heaven in which the fine things flourish and the evil things shrivel up.
That is the function of the Christian; failure to fulfil this function means that there is no good reason for existence; and we have already seen that in the economy of God uselessness invites disaster. Those who have ears to hear, let them hear.
WHEN Jesus said this he was on the road to Jerusalem. He knew that he was on his way to the cross; the crowds who were with him thought that he was on his way to an empire. That is why he spoke to them like this. In the most vivid way possible he told them that those who followed him were not on the way to worldly power and glory, but must be ready for a loyalty which would sacrifice the dearest things in life and for a suffering which would be like the agony of a man upon a cross.
We must not take his words with cold and unimaginative literalness. The language of the middle east is always as vivid as the human mind can make it. When Jesus tells us to hate our nearest and dearest, he does not mean that literally. He means that no love in life can compare with the love we must bear to him.
There are two suggestive truths within this passage.
(1) It is possible to be a follower of Jesus without being a disciple; to be a camp-follower without being a soldier of the king; to be a hanger-on in some great work without pulling one’s weight. Once someone was talking to a great scholar about a younger man. He said, ‘So and so tells me that he was one of your students.’ The teacher answered devastatingly, ‘He may have attended my lectures, but he was not one of my students.’ It is one of the supreme handicaps of the Church that in it there are so many distant followers of Jesus and so few real disciples.
(2) It is a Christian’s first duty to count the cost of following Christ. The tower which the man was going to build was probably a vineyard tower. Vineyards were often equipped with towers from which watch was kept against thieves who might steal the harvest. An unfinished building is always a humiliating thing. In Scotland, we may, for instance, think of that weird structure called ‘McCaig’s Folly’ which stands behind Oban.
In every sphere of life each of us is called upon to count the cost. In the introduction to the marriage ceremony according to the forms of the Church of Scotland, the minister says, ‘Marriage is not to be entered upon lightly or unadvisedly, but thoughtfully, reverently, and in the fear of God.’ A man and woman must count the cost.
It is so with the Christian way. But if we are daunted by the high demands of Christ let us remember that we are not left to fulfil them alone. He who called us to the steep road will walk with us every step of the way and be there at the end to meet us.
THE INSIPID SALT
Luke 14:34–5
Jesus said, ‘Salt is a fine thing; but if salt has become insipid, by what means shall its taste be restored? It is fit neither for the land nor the dunghill. Men throw it out. He who has an ear to hear, let him hear.’
JUST sometimes Jesus speaks with a threat in his voice. When a person is always carping and criticizing and complaining, the repeated irritable anger ceases to have any significance or any effect. But when someone whose accent is the accent of love suddenly speaks with a threat we are bound to listen. What Jesus is saying is this—when a thing loses its essential quality and fails to perform its essential duty, it is fit for nothing but to be thrown away.
Jesus uses salt as a symbol of the Christian life. What, then, are its essential qualities? In Palestine it had three characteristic uses.
(1) Salt was used as a preservative. It is the earliest of all preservatives. The Greeks used to say that salt could put a new soul into dead things. Without salt a thing putrefied and went bad; with it its freshness was preserved. That means that true Christianity must act as a preservative against the corruption of the world. As individual Christians we must be the conscience of our fellows; and the Church must be the conscience of the nation. As Christians we must be such that in our presence no doubtful language will be used, no questionable stories told, no dishonourable action suggested. We must be like a cleansing antiseptic in the circle in which we move. The Church must fearlessly speak against all evils and support all good causes. It must never hold its peace through fear or favour of anyone.
(2) Salt was used as a flavouring. Food, without salt, can be revoltingly insipid. Christians, then, must be the ones who bring flavour into life. The Christianity which acts like a shadow of gloom and a wet blanket is no true Christianity. Christians are the people who, by their courage, their hope, their cheerfulness and their kindness bring a new flavour into life.
(3) Salt was used on the land. It was used to make it easier for all good things to grow. It is the Christian’s role to make it easier for people to be good and harder to be bad. We all know people in whose company there are certain things we would not and could not do; and equally we all know people in whose company we might well stoop to things which by ourselves we would not do. There are fine people in whose company it is easier to be brave and cheerful and good. As Christians we must carry with us a breath of heaven in which the fine things flourish and the evil things shrivel up.
That is the function of the Christian; failure to fulfil this function means that there is no good reason for existence; and we have already seen that in the economy of God uselessness invites disaster. Those who have ears to hear, let them hear.