Cliff Loesch September 9, 2007 Luke 14:25-33 Counting the Cost      I recently read a novel called The Keys of the Kingdom, by A. J. Cronin, and I want to share a little about that book this morning.  It's about a Catholic priest.  He was sent to China, while still a young priest, to a remote Catholic mission that had recently been established.  It sounded like an exciting venture.  All of the official reports about this new mission were amazing.  In a very short time a church and several buildings had been built, and the reports of conversions and baptisms were, likewise, amazing.  The young priest was expecting to come to a little town with an established Catholic mission and a congregation of around five hundred people.  But what he found when he arrived was very disappointing.  The buildings had been built too close to the river.  The river had flooded and almost everything on the church property had been washed away.  The buildings were all gone-except for one small little shed that was still standing.  And all those converts?  They were nowhere to be found either.  There was one couple-a husband and wife-who met him at the boat and said they were there to help.  But as the priest began to piece things together, what he discovered was that all the people who had come before basically came for the handouts that the previous priest had given.  Perhaps they were required to be baptized in order to receive anything.  But they weren't really believers in Christ.  And the church didn't really mean anything to them-except as a place to receive a handout.  When the reports were sent back to England, everything looked really good on paper-but in reality there was nothing there of substance.  The new priest referred to the missing converts as "rice-Christians" and said he would not bring people into the church in that way.  The Chinese couple, it turns out, had worked for the previous priest and they were looking for a paid position with the new priest.  They told him that without their help he had very little chance of making any progress in that town.  But they would be able to go out and round people up and convince them to convert.  The priest said thanks but no thanks and set out on the difficult journey of starting from scratch.       The passage of Scripture that Sara read this morning talks about counting the cost.  I wonder if the young priest counted the cost when he said "no thanks" to the Chinese couple's offer of assistance.  There was a risk in this move.  It would cost something.  It might mean that it would be harder to find anyone willing to listen to him and that his reports back to England would not be all that great-not nearly so glowing as his predecessor's.  But he determined that he would not try to coerce anyone into the faith; nor would he baptize people simply as an exchange: "I'll give you rice or medicine; you let me baptize you so my reports to England will look good."  No, he wouldn't do it that way.  But I submit that he was counting the cost by this move.  He chose the more difficult path because he knew it would be more faithful to God, and because he knew it would lead to a stronger ministry in the future.      But there's another story from this novel that I want to share.  The priest became acquainted with one of the most prominent-and one of the wealthiest-men in town.  The man's young son became very ill-so ill that his life was in danger.  The story was set in the early 1900s, and everything the man could think of to do for his son had been tried.  Every healer had been summoned and every traditional remedy applied, but the boy kept getting worse.  Finally as a last resort the man came to the priest to ask for help.  The priest came to see the boy and could quickly tell that some of the traditional remedies were making the boy sicker.  He instructed that most of the traditional remedies be stopped immediately and he gave the boy some medicine-I can't remember what kind-and in a few days the boy had begun to improve a lot.  It wasn't long until the boy was completely well again.  And the boy's father appeared at the priest's doorstep and announced, "I'm here to become a Christian."  He told the priest, "You have done the most important thing for me that anyone could possibly do.  Now I am here to do something for you.  I am eager to become a Christian."  And this may surprise you, but the priest refused.  After some dialog, he recognized that the Chinese man was trying to honor him by this.  And I imagine that the priest very quickly counted the cost of his actions-whatever he decided.  All sorts of thoughts must have gone through his head.  Baptizing this prominent man would surely help him make some inroads into their society-and it would sure look good on a report.  It must have been a temptation.  And not accepting this man's offer might offend him and it might make the priest's life and ministry more difficult.  But this priest had already committed himself not to make converts for all the wrong reasons so he had to tell the man no.  The Chinese man was, indeed, a little shocked and offended by this.  Yet at the same time, the man's respect for the Catholic priest grew even more.  The next day two of the man's servants came to see the priest and asked him to accept a gift from Mr. Chia.  It was the deed to a piece of property-a very choice property-where the priest could relocate the Catholic mission. What I hope to convey through these stories is that sometimes doing the right thing, sometimes following Christ, seems like a more difficult path.  This priest decided early in his life that he would make choices that were more faithful to Jesus Christ, and more faithful to his calling-rather than those easier choices that might gain him more praise and recognition from his church hierarchy.  In fact, throughout his entire life, this priest never got much recognition from those above him.  Yet as you read the chronicles of this man's life you have this strong sense that in so many ways he is pleasing the One that really matters.  You truly feel that God was pleased by his faithful service.      In Luke 14, Jesus says some provocative and difficult things to hear.  Verse 26 says, "Whoever comes to me and does not hate father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters, yes, and even life itself, cannot be my disciple."  What is that all about?  And then those stories about counting the cost?   And then the statement about giving up all your possessions?  These are hard statements.  They make it sound like following Jesus is unpleasant, difficult-maybe even impossible.  What about the time that Jesus said, "Come to me, all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest."  What about, "For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light."  And what about the time he said, "My peace I give to you?"  It seems like he's sending mixed messages: "My yoke is easy-but you better count the cost because following me is really hard work."       I looked to William Barclay for a little help with this passage. [see The Gospel of Luke, The Daily Study Bible, Luke 14:25-33]  He says that we should not take Jesus too literally in Luke 14.  Jesus doesn't literally mean that we should hate our family in order to be his disciple.  But he is saying that it could be difficult-and that there could be some hard choices.  William Barclay says that Jesus was speaking to a Middle Eastern audience in a Middle Eastern way.  He was using strong language and exaggeration that would have been understood.  It was a standard way of getting your point across.  And what Jesus is saying, according to William Barclay, is that we should think about those things that are most important to us; most dear to us.  And we must realize that there may be some of those things that in following Christ we may have to let go.  We may have to give them up.  In the stories of the priest that I shared earlier, I made the observation that in order to be faithful to what he believed Christ had called him to do, he was willing to give up the recognition and praise from his superiors.  And that kind of recognition would be dear to most anyone.  In fact, throughout his life, I don't think he ever heard a "well done" from his superiors.  Even toward the end of his life someone still commented that his reports sure didn't match up to the priest's that came before him.  But when you see the solid and vibrant ministry that eventually grew out of his faithfulness, you yourself want to say, "Well done."  And it seems obvious that God would say, "Well done."      Yes, to follow Christ, there may be some difficult choices to make-or seemingly difficult.  And we must count the cost.  But the road is not dreary.  And I think you will find that any hard choices that are made along the way are more than replaced by satisfaction and joy down the road.  May the Lord show each of us what it means to count the cost in our own lives-and may we be filled with joy in our journey with the Lord.