Preacher: Jenn Hosler

Scripture: Psalm 1; Luke 14:25-33

How do we make space for joy and rest amidst injustice and seemingly endless crises, here in our country and in our city and across the world?  The past 2 years, I have been wrestling with this. One particular memory is of Martin Luther King Jr. Day in January 2024. My kiddo was home from school due to the snow day, I was sick with some type of yucky respiratory infection, and my family took a beautiful snowy walk in the National Arboretum. At the same time, Mennonite Action was hosting its first DC mass action, based at our church building. There was a group of Christians risking arrest in the Cannon House rotunda at the Capitol, calling for a ceasefire in Gaza and to stop sending weapons to Israel. I remember feeling some real guilt and discomfort – shouldn’t I be there too? (even though I had just been arrested a few weeks before?) Shouldn’t I be helping, risking, resisting, singing, and praying publicly? Yet what I needed to be doing at that time was walking in the falling snow, with my partner and my child, meditating on the beautiful blooming camellia flowers. I needed to care for my kid, home from school. I needed to take care of myself, since I was truly sick! I needed to take some time for rest and healing and beauty and joy. 

On the same day, I found it poignant that Dr. Bernice King, one of the children of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., shared some unique pictures of her father. She wrote, “maybe someone needs to see these photos of Daddy riding a bike, in a pool, and playing pool.” It can be easy to think that MLK only existed in the pulpit, on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial, or in a march, but he too was a human being who needed rest and fun and joy. 

Another memory is a compilation. I have been to oceans a few times during the genocide in Gaza and I have found it difficult to hold two things in my heart and mind at the same time. Staring at the crashing waves, I always think about the reality and grief that Gazans cannot enjoy their Mediterranean sea coast safely, can barely swim, cannot fish; that something which should be a source of joy is part of the occupation’s torment. At the same time, I savor the sea, and I try to hold onto the beauty of the crashing waves, the warmth of the sun, the feeling of the sand in my toes and the water lapping at my feet, and the joy of finding a beautiful shell. Holding both things at the same time can be hard. 

Our two texts today also provide two ideas, two truths, that we hold at the same time. We have this ideal of blessing and wholeness for God’s people in Psalm 1 and we have the sobering call to count the cost of discipleship in Luke 14:25-33. 

In my newsletter reflection, I highlighted our fig tree here at church and some imagery from Psalm 1. As I wrote there, fig season truly is one of my favorite times of year. It’s especially delightful here at the church building, when we walk out of our worship service and we have a group harvest. Reaching up, peeking our heads into the branches and the leaves, spotting juicy dark red figs, testing reddish figs to see if they are ready yet. Those of us who are present (often everyone at worship in person!) often eat them right off the tree, enjoying the sweet flavors before we head back inside to wash the sap from our hands. 

Last Saturday, during my family’s hike along the Potomac River, we eagerly checked Pawpaw trees to see if there was ripe fruit. For most of our hike that day, the trees were empty, or the fruit was tiny and unripe. We started to think that either we missed pawpaw season while we were traveling or that the August drought had caused a problem with fruiting. Yet we continued on the path and suddenly, there were ripe pawpaws, ready to pick and at hand-picking height. A few more fell from the trees as we shook them, ready in their season to fall and be eaten.

Psalm 1 uses the imagery of a fruit tree to illustrate abundance and wholeness. Those who seek after God are “like trees planted by streams of water, which yield their fruit in its season, and their leaves do not wither. In all that they do, they prosper.”

I was really struck by this imagery this week, perhaps because of all these fruit trees in my life right now, but perhaps also because I am yearning for wholeness. In following the way of God, I want to trust and delight and not feel guilty that I can practice joy and delight and rest, since our Creator wants us nourished and thriving, like our fig tree. I want to be like pawpaw trees. These aren’t the tallest trees, and they aren’t facing the heat of the sun. They are understory trees growing under the canopy of larger trees like oak, sycamore, beech, and tulip poplar. These trees enjoy life in the dappled sun and shade along the river and bear their fruit in season. I want to be that pawpaw tree, planted along the Potomac. 

Psalm 1 says, 

Happy are those
    who do not follow the advice of the wicked
or take the path that sinners tread
    or sit in the seat of scoffers,
but their delight is in the law of the Lord,
    and on his law they meditate day and night.
They are like trees
    planted by streams of water,
which yield their fruit in its season,
    and their leaves do not wither.
In all that they do, they prosper.

The wicked are not so
    but are like chaff that the wind drives away.
Therefore the wicked will not stand in the judgment
    nor sinners in the congregation of the righteous,
for the Lord watches over the way of the righteous,
    but the way of the wicked will perish.

Psalm 1 is a wisdom Psalm. If you’re not familiar with wisdom literature in the Bible, it is a specific genre that includes some Psalms, all the Proverbs, and books like Job or Ecclesiastes. Wisdom literature illustrates truths and principles, providing instruction on living a wise life as an individual following God. Wisdom literature does not typically provide a nuanced ethic like the Mosaic law or the Hebrew prophets; things are often black and white, either/or, wise or foolish.

In Psalm 1, the author is trying to communicate truths about how the Way of God can bring happiness, wholeness, beauty, and abundance. It is also communicating to the faithful that even though wrongdoers and the unjust may think their plans are crafty and their schemes will prevail, they will be held accountable in God’s judgment. 

As a wisdom Psalm, this Psalm doesn’t tell the whole story of what it means to follow God’s Way. We know that it isn’t all happiness; the Way of Jesus also includes sacrifice and even suffering. This brings us to our passage in Luke 14:25-33. 

Jesus and his disciples are on the journey from Galilee to Jerusalem, which is a large portion of Luke (about 11 chapters), doing ministry and preaching on the way, healing, eating, and teaching. Here, the text says that “large crowds were traveling with Jesus.”  Jesus turns to the crowds and says, “Whoever comes to me and doesn’t hate father and mother, spouse and children, and brothers and sisters—yes, even one’s own life—cannot be my disciple. Whoever doesn’t carry their own cross and follow me cannot be my disciple.”

These words sound harsh and can be confusing at first glance. What is Jesus saying – hate our families? No, it isn’t what he is saying here. My first step when encountering a confusing teaching of Jesus is to compare it to other stuff that Jesus said. So, if we are to love our neighbors as ourselves, Jesus can’t actually mean “hate” here. One commentator explains that there are instances in the Hebrew scriptures where “hate” meant “prefer less”. If we apply that here, Jesus is saying, whoever follows me and doesn’t make the Kingdom of God the highest priority, that person cannot be my disciple.  According to biblical scholar Diane Chen, “To become Jesus’ follower, one’s preference—loyalty, love, and priority—must reside with Jesus over all people and things one holds dear.”

Jesus says, “whoever doesn’t carry their own cross and follow me cannot be my disciple.” What does it mean for everyone of Jesus’ listeners to be told that they should each be prepared to carry their cross? This isn’t a cross necklace or the brass cross on our table or even the nice giant wooden cross we have upstairs: this is the Roman tool of execution. 

Perhaps this is a message that the Kingdom of God and the way of Jesus put us at risk from the “powers” and rulers of the world. After all, Jesus announced in Luke 4 at the start of his ministry that he was bringing good news for the poor, oppressed, and prisoner. Earlier in Luke 14, Jesus was teaching this upside-down kingdom, that his followers are not to seek power and status but to align themselves with the social outcasts. Perhaps, following the way of Jesus and being on the side of the marginalized, inevitably puts Jesus’ followers at risk of state violence.

Jesus continues and gives two illustrations about counting the cost of following Jesus. Jesus asks his listeners, “Which of you, if you were building a tower, would stop to estimate whether you have the resources to complete it? You don’t want to start but not be able to finish; people will make fun of you!”  I think it is helpful to point out here that most likely none of these poor Galileans could ever build a tower – which sounds lofty to start with. Jesus continues, “Which king going to war doesn’t first think about whether he has the resources to win? If he can’t, he’ll do diplomacy and ask for the terms of peace.” You shouldn’t get into something with life-or-death stakes without knowing what the situation is. 

Jesus seems to say, in both instances, people should seriously assess, can I make following Jesus work? Do I have the commitment and the resources to do this? Jesus ends with the mic drop: “In the same way, none of you who are unwilling to give up all of your possessions can be my disciple.” 

Lots of things we could say and reflect on here. I see places in scripture and truths that see God’s people living abundantly, nourished by God’s presence and like trees planted by streams of water, bearing their fruit in season. Jesus even said, “I came that you would have life abundant” (John 10:10). Jesus took some down time on mountaintops, some self-care. Jesus napped on a boat after preaching. Jesus feasted with friends. 

Jesus also got pulled out of his prayer time or naps or – I’m sure – a million other private moments to care for people in need. Jesus spent time with people who were probably unpleasant, who were social outcasts and probably physically dirty and stinky. Jesus had his family get frustrated with his ministry. He didn’t have a house and relied on the community to meet his needs.  Jesus sacrificed and suffered. 

Following the way of Jesus can lead to hard things. Perhaps that’s going out of our way to help our neighbors, going to a protest or even risking arrest. Perhaps following Jesus involves sacrificing some luxuries to help meet our neighbors’ needs or helping get kids to school when their parents are afraid of ICE or bringing meals to people who can’t leave their homes. Perhaps following Jesus means stopping out of our commute to check and see if that unconscious neighbor on the sidewalk needs medical assistance or just taking a nap.  

Jesus wants us to take stock and count the cost: following the way of Jesus often leads to hard things. He’s pretty clear. Yet, following the wisdom of God, the way of mercy and love, can also lead us to being delighted by new relationships and community care, to recognizing the beauty of creation, and even to experiencing the joy of a fig tree in late summer.

I think that joy and wholeness, things like naps and hikes and bike rides and birthday parties and kid-snuggles – these all give us the strength and energy to fill us up, to nourish us to do these hard things, by the power of the Holy Spirit. 

As we continue in times of crisis in our city and our globe, times of genocide funded by our tax dollars and occupation on our streets, I invite you to consider both the joy and the great cost. How can we seek the joy and abundance of being planted like a tree in God’s presence, joy and wholeness that holds in the face of deep adversity and sacrifice and pain, like that which Julia shared about in Philippians 4 last Sunday?

Even amidst difficult and distressing realities around us, even as we continue the work of Jesus that carries a cost, may the Holy Spirit give us strength and plant us like trees by streams of water, where we can bear fruit in season, rooted in God’s good news of love and resurrection hope. AMEN.