A little confession time to begin this sermon. Becoming and being a pastor has been terrifying to me. I have a tendency towards being afraid of everything, so I don’t pay it much heed or I’d never do anything. However, this fear was would at times overwhelm me complete with tears. There’s many reasons, I’m sure, buried in my psyche and what not, but a big one was I’m afraid of what God was going to ask me to do and what kind of rocky roads would I be walking as a pastor. The life is pretty darn good being a pastor, but it’s not all BBQs and Bible study, right?

I felt a bit like Jeremiah in our readings today, where he basically says, “I really don’t want this prophet gig because it’s going to make people mad and get me in hot water.” Preaching and living the gospel to the best of our ability will at times make people angry, right? And it’s not just pastors who are prophets, who are compelled to tell the truth, or to profess the gospel in such a way that is uncomfortable within our communities. We are all called. This is the Christian life and sometimes that’s scary.

My heroes in the faith all took great risks that I frankly would prefer not to do. For example, one of Nate’s elementary school teachers was a nun who also got arrested after handcuffing herself to the gate of the School of the Americas (link), which was a US-backed mercenary school linked to human rights abuses. Her commitment so impresses me and it scares me because my call to follow Jesus might just lead me into such fervent action, as well. Afterall, on the cover of the Living Lutheran this month is a picture of a Lutheran pastor being arrested during a protest. I’m not saying no to this sort of call in my life, but if I had my way, in all honesty, I’d pick quality couch time over jail time and all that entails. I’m not saying this with any sort of pride. It’s a confession, as I said. I love quality couch time.

There are incredible people of faith doing amazing things around the world in their path to follow Christ. And then there’s me. So, for many reasons, I’m profoundly grateful God has called me to be here as a part of this beautiful community, but we also don’t know what’s ahead of us. We don’t know what the call will be on our lives, which may be bigger than what we really want.

Our gospel reading today is a hard word to hear, perhaps especially so on Father’s Day. Jesus tells us that he’s not here to bring peace, but a sword, setting up discord within our families. What is this business?! Doesn’t Jesus know that we are supposed to be nice, especially on family holidays?

Perhaps inconveniently for us, Jesus is more committed to health, wholeness, and justice than he is to just being nice. He’s committed to the truth. And therefore, as his disciples, that is the expectation of us.

So in this text, he’s telling his disciples it’s going to be rough for you. In one way of another, you’re going to suffer like me. And if you refuse this call of suffering for justice and mercy, you’re not a disciple. This may tear your family apart, he says. The foundation of your life and all your safety in the world is at risk, but that’s the road. Egads, Jesus!

You don’t have to be one of Jesus’ disciples, a pastor, or any sort of leader in the church to be in a situation where living out the gospel feels threatening and hard. Sticking our heads out for the sake of the gospel is risky. Jesus knows it and still tells us to pick up our cross.  

When Jesus says to pick up your cross, he’s telling us to walk his path with him which is a path of radical grace, mercy, and inclusion of unwanted and suspicious people. He broke a lot of rules for the sake of loving people who the powers that be said shouldn’t be loved.

The gospel certainly assures us that we are loved, included, forgiven, wanted, and cherished. The gospel is for us. The good news includes us. Jesus would sit at any of our tables, even on the worst of our days. Yes, that is so! And, the gospel does not stop with us, meaning that the gospel makes demands us. The prophets make demands on us. We don’t get to say we’re forgiven, we’re going to heaven, and that’s all that matters. Jesus tells us to pick up our cross of radical mercy for other people and follow him. And people have. There are giants of the church, like Dorothy Day or Martin Luther King Jr or Desmond Tutu, who were called into extraordinary acts of courage and mercy.

So, I have good reason to be nervous. You have good reason to be nervous. Jesus asks for a lot. Pick up your cross and follow me, he says. This is not about our comfort. It’s not about keeping peace in the house at all costs. Jesus tells us that mercy for those who need it most comes first, potentially at our own cost. This is what Jesus did for us and all people and we are to follow.

This begs the question, who needs mercy in your life and in your world? Could it be people without adequate food, shelter, or healthcare in our community? Could it be your neighbor or family member? Could it even be yourself? After all, we all have wounded parts of ourselves that need tender care, too. Sometimes there’s bravery needed to demand mercy for ourselves, as well.  

Jesus comes with a sword, he tells us, which isn’t a sword of physical violence. His sword is the Word of God. And because of that Word, Jesus won’t tolerate a shallow peace that covers up painful divisions, hatred, or secrets. Let’s be honest. That sorts of stinks sometimes. How often do we avoid painful conversations for the sake of peace and then here comes Jesus saying, “I’m not here for this kind of peace and neither are you.”

Living the gospel out loud in the world is going to upset people, upset social rules, and maybe upset our families. It’s going to push buttons. Add to this scary mix that we’re not Jesus and so we’ll live the gospel imperfectly. So, then our clumsiness is going to make it worse. We will get blow back and who wants that?! Not me.

Thankfully we are assured that God is with us, that Jesus’ yoke is indeed light when we do actually follow, and that every hair on our heads is counted. We are precious, loved, and forgiven. And we are the body of Christ carrying the cross of radical mercy for those who need it most and we are called to do this without apology. Scary as this is at times, we are called to do this together as a community with each other and with God.

Instead of keeping my fears of discipleship and being a pastor to myself, I laid it all out to a lovely friend and colleague who didn’t try to talk me out of my fears. They acknowledged my fear was grounded in reality, in fact. But they also reminded me that I don’t do this alone and suggested I simply pray to become the person God needs me to be to walk with Jesus. And so I did and within a few days that crushing fear left me. Thanks be to God for that!

Jesus really does ask a lot of us, but he doesn’t ask what is beyond us, particularly when we act together. So, wherever mercy and grace are needed in our worlds, I pray we pick up Jesus’ cross of mercy, tell the truth, act in love, give glory to God, and continually help each other to do so together.

AMEN