“Come Follow Me”
Original sermon given on Sunday, June 29, 2025 written and delivered by Pastor Jeff Leininger at First Saint Paul’s Lutheran Church.
Watch the sermon live.
“Come Follow Me”
Luke 9.51-62
Luke 9.51-62
In the name of the living God and the risen Christ. Amen.
Jesus sets his face towards Jerusalem, and so do we. Jesus is on a journey to the cross, and so are we. Today’s gospel reading is most importantly, of course, about our Lord’s laser-like focus on his work of going to Jerusalem to die for the sins of the world and to win everlasting salvation for all who believe. Nothing would distract him from this task — so great was his love for our lost and broken world. This was his work, his choice, his willful, intentional, purposeful love. We need to read no further than the first verse of today’s gospel to know Jesus was no accidental, tragic figure caught between larger religious and political forces beyond his control: “When the days drew near for him to be taken up, he set his face to go to Jerusalem.” (Luke 9.51)
But where the savior goes, so go the saved; as with the master, so with his servants. So today’s reading is also about our lives of discipleship — of setting our faces also with laser-like focus upon the face of Christ.
This morning, we learn a couple of hard lessons about Christian discipleship. Much of Luke 9 appears at first glance jarring or even offensive to our ears. The Holy Spirit leads us to understand both the nature of the kingdom of God, and also its costs.
First, the nature of Christ’s kingdom — what it’s all about and what should we be about.
Jesus and his followers are journeying through Samaritan territory to head to Jerusalem for the Passover Festival. The Samaritans and the Jews, though with some shared history and genetics, were bitter, hated rivals. (Sometimes you fight worse with family, right?) We might compare it to some of the many religious/political conflicts of our own day. (There’s plenty to pick from!) And now it’s “marching season” for the Jews. At no time was the hatred more intense than at the time of the Jewish Passover. For example, one Passover, Samaritans tried to disrupt the feast by tossing human remains over the walls into the temple courts. The following year the Jews responded by burning down the Samaritan temple at Mt. Gerizim.[1]
It's no surprise then that when Jesus and his pilgrim followers don’t receive a warm welcome in Samaria. James and John, drunk with an awareness of their new power to perform miracles in Jesus’ name, ask if they should call down fire from heaven in retribution. What is surprising is our Lord’s response. He rebukes them, and so also any of us in any time or place, who would make the kingdom of Christ about power, or retribution, or petty tribalism, or self-advancement. His would be a different kind of kingdom than any of the kingdoms of this world — a kingdom of sacrifice, of servanthood, of embracing the whole world in the arms of his death.
Nature of the kingdom: his kingdom extends beyond tribe or party, genetics or history, boundary or soil. The nature of Christ’s kingdom begins with sacrifice — first his for us, and then ours for the life of the world. Jesus rebukes these two “sons of thunder”—here’s where they get their nickname—with the same word with which he rebukes demons, and so also rebukes any “sons of thunder” who would make his kingdom one of retributive punishment, nationalistic reprisals, or vengeance. (That’s why it’s a kingdom not of this world). The nature of the gospel is one of love and sacrifice, of forgiveness and grace. As it goes with the savior, so with the saved.
That’s the nature of the kingdom. But now, we’re also reminded of the costs of the kingdom, and its all-encompassing and uncompromising call upon our lives. Here Jesus encounters three individuals who (apparently) are not fully prepared for what following Jesus will mean. Each of them has a good excuse. These verses rather offend us; Jesus comes across kind of like a jerk, doesn’t he? The point here isn’t that we can’t have homes, or shouldn’t honor our parents with a proper burial, or can’t say heartfelt farewells to our families. Rather, the issue here is about excuses we make and the barriers we build between us and Jesus. The call to follow Jesus — to set our faces upon him as he sets his face upon the cross — is total and immediate. It affects everybody and begins now. Our whole lives are to be focused on him and his work; the time to follow him is today, this morning, without delay. And anything that would turn our faces away from his face, we must turn away from in turn.
The first person in today’s reading apparently didn’t fully realize following Christ might mean a loss of his worldly goods. He’s eager to set out with Jesus and even declares, “I will follow you wherever you go!” But the Lord looks into his heart and sees the hold the things of this world have upon him. “Foxes have holes, and the birds of the air have nests, but the son of man has no place to lay his head.” Jesus will end his life homeless, penniless, and naked hanging from a cross. As it goes with the savior, so with the saved. Being a follower of Jesus may cost you everything — and this man needed to know that.
The second individual delays discipleship because of religious and cultural obligations: “First let me go and bury my father.” Now there’s some dispute in biblical scholarship whether the man’s father had already just recently passed, or whether his father was still living, and the man wanted first to wait the necessary months or years before following. In either case, our Lord’s response seems harsh and uncaring: “Let the dead bury their own dead, but you go and proclaim the kingdom of God.”
The point is not that we shouldn’t honor our loved ones with a proper burial, but rather that nothing can be of more importance than our lives of discipleship. Even the most important cultural or religious duties cannot take the place of Christ, nor set as a barrier to following him alone.
The third person asks of Jesus what any of us would regard as a reasonable, even thoughtful request. “I’ll follow you Jesus, but, hey, first, let me go and say goodbye to my family.” Jesus rebukes this excuse with a metaphor from the farm and field: no one who puts his hand to the plow and looks back is fit for service in the kingdom of God. If you look back, you’re going to plough a crooked field. Being a disciple means sticking with it, perseverance, staying focused. Even the love of family cannot become more important than the love of Christ.
All of these people have good excuses—this rebuke would be a lot easier if they had bad excuses.
But the immediate and all-encompassing call to focus on and follow Christ is beyond home and possessions; beyond cultural and religious obligations; even beyond the deep ties of family. Our Lord through these words exposes the false gods which distract us from laser-like focus on him. It’s a reminder on how hard Christian discipleship is! Even the good things of this world can distract us from setting our faces upon his face.
The good news of the gospel then always brings our focus back upon what Christ has done for us. His very nature is not to call down fire upon us, but rather upon himself. He went to Jerusalem to take upon himself the punishment for all our sins, including imperfect, distracted following.
May we stay close to him and know ever more his grace in abundance, and may we be renewed in our lives of discipleship to follow him alone, no matter the cost.
Come soon Lord Jesus. Amen.
[1] Michel Card, Luke, 130