Gospel Investments

I was engaged in a robust conversation with a friend this week, about faith, discipleship and being pragmatic. Much of our conversation was how we can minister effectively in our community, remain faithful and engage with the leadership of Jesus. In short, we were wrestling with what most of Jesus’ disciples wrestle with every day – how does it really work?

I talked about loving my enemy, which seems reasonable when my enemy is a neighbour with a leaf blower, but less reasonable when they have caused deliberate harm to someone I love. We talked about turning the other cheek, which is fine in an argument about social justice, but not when you are the victim of your partner’s violence. Sometimes the call to follow appears almost impossible.

Discipleship is not about arrival, it is about following Jesus. Loving enemies, turning cheeks and forgiving 490 times are something which we will learn – and some things may remain always beyond our reach. They are, however, never beyond God’s grace and justice. So we work out the knots in our faith, in the context of justice and grace.

“Get in behind!” is the uncompromising call from Jesus in this week’s Gospel reading. And for two millennia disciples have tried to find a loophole and call it theology, or even pragmatism. The purists preach the sermons of purists, leaving people dismissive, or guilty. Those who have drawn near to the reality of Christ’s command are usually the most gracious and understanding of our failures. To follow and leave everything make sense if you’re leaving an awful job, or a broken life, but what if you love your family, your farm, your home?

I am struck by the rigorous pragmatism of Elisha – twice.

When he first hears Elijah’s call, Elisha leaves the farm behind by slaughtering his ploughing oxen, burning their yokes and following his new master. There is no life to which he can now return. He has no means of making a living, or recouping his losses; the rich young ruler would have sold the beasts and harness, and put the cash in a superannuation fund.

When he follows Elijah to the prophet’s whirlwind finale, he tears his clothes in two, leaving himself no option but to don the mantle bequeathed to him by his newly-departed master.

That is, perhaps, how we progress in our walk with Jesus; by making decisions from which it is hard to return. Working with cattle in a race, you place a hock bar behind their rear legs so that they can’t go back.

What are those decisions, in following Jesus, from which it is almost impossible to return?

When those decisions have confronted us, what has been our response?

The grace and call of God are never exhausted, but the opportunity to follow is a wonder and a reward with which it can be daunting to engage. Dare I believe that following Jesus is more than family, more than honour, more than tradition? More than life itself?

When I read the gospels, I see that Jesus believes we are worth all that, and more.