Proper 18 - 2025

Sermon for Proper 18, Year C
St. Paul's Episcopal Church
The Rev. Andrew McLarty

A few years ago, I had a project at home that I thought would be simple: hanging a wall mounted coat rack. I figured it would take a Saturday afternoon—an hour at most. Well, you probably see where this is going. I got into it, realized the anchors weren't large enough, the tools I had weren’t quite right, the holes were now off center, and the “quick project” ended up taking multiple days, trips to the hardware store, and a lot more effort than I had planned.

Looking back, the problem wasn’t the supplies or the tools—it was me. I hadn’t stopped to count the material and time costs. I hadn’t asked what it was really going to take before I started drilling.

That’s the picture Jesus paints for us today. He’s not giving us a lecture on home improvement. He’s speaking about discipleship. And his words in Luke’s Gospel are some of the hardest he ever spoke:

“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. Whoever does not carry the cross and follow me cannot be my disciple.”

Strong words. Jarring words. And at first, they don’t sound much like the Jesus we know—the one who blesses children, heals the sick, and welcomes everyone to his table. But here, on the road to Jerusalem, with the cross ahead of him, Jesus needs the crowds to understand something: following him isn’t casual. It’s not a side project. It’s a life. And before we step onto that road, we need to count the cost.

Now, I don’t think Jesus is literally telling us to despise our families. He’s using an expression common in his culture—a way of saying: “What comes first?” And the answer, for a disciple, must be clear. Our ultimate loyalty is to him. Everything else, as important and holy as it may be, comes second.

That sounds hard—and it is. But here’s the truth: anything worth giving your life to will cost you something. Marriage costs something. Parenthood costs something. Even that little coatrack project I mentioned—if you want it to turn out right, it costs you something. And following Jesus is no different.

For most of us at St. Paul’s, that cost isn’t dramatic. It’s not likely to mean martyrdom. But it does show up in everyday choices:

• choosing to be here in worship, even when your week has left you tired,
• writing a pledge when budgets shift,
• forgiving when you’d rather hold a grudge,
• speaking up for someone who has no voice, even if it costs you some comfort.

That’s what it looks like to carry a cross—not always in one big dramatic act, but in the daily, steady rhythm of surrendering our will to God’s.

Dietrich Bonhoeffer, who gave his life resisting the Nazis, said it best: “When Christ calls a man, he bids him come and die.” Die to self-centeredness. Die to the illusion that we are in control. Die to the idols we cling to instead of God. And in that dying, discover the life that is truly life.

Because here’s the paradox: God’s grace is free, but it is not cheap. It cost Jesus everything. And yet what it gives us is more than we could ever imagine—purpose, peace, and joy that nothing in this world can take away.

So this week, I invite you to sit down—like you would before a big project—and count the cost. What foundation are you building on? What loyalties shape your life? Where is Jesus asking you to trust more deeply?

And then, let’s take up our crosses—not with fear, but with hope. Because the road that costs us everything is also the road that leads us to life.

Amen.