Whatever the Cost

September 7, 2025, Saint Barnabas Lutheran Church, Howard Beach, Queens, N.Y.

 “Whoever comes to me and does not hate father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters, yes, even life itself, cannot be my disciple.” (Lk 14:26)

Wow. As members of my former Baptist tribe might say, “Jesus, you could have talked all day without saying that!”

Hate? How can hate be a part of the Gospel of Love?

Has anyone ever told you they hate you?

It’s an unpleasant but not necessarily rare experience. Martha and I have a son and five daughters. There comes a time when every adoring and cuddly Daddy’s girl and admiring son stops seeing the old man as a saintly provider and starts to see him as an uncompromising tyrant who restricts their phone time, won’t let them leave the house until they explain what they intend to do, and spends hours vetting potential boyfriends to suss out their evil past.

 “I hate you!” 

Yes, I’ve heard that on occasion. Perhaps you have, too. In most cases these outbursts are normal eruptions in the ebb and flow of parent-child relationships. I think it only becomes a problem if the parent responds, “I hate you, too!” Parenting requires the maturity of knowing your child doesn’t really mean it and that the gale will soon pass. 

But when Jesus tells us to hate those closest to us, it sounds like he means it.

I think we can all pause for a few moments to feel perplexed by Jesus’ unexpected use of the word hate.

Fortunately I was able to express my perplexity to the doctor of ministry and budding Greek scholar with whom I share theological pillow talk.

“Jesus is asserting his deity,” Martha said, quoting a study source:

“Every member of man’s family is a human being, and the love shown to humans compared to the love shown to Jesus Christ, God in the flesh, must be so different that the former seems like hatred.”

Martha also quoted a Gordon Conwell professor that in Luke 14:26, Jesus uses the word “hate” to mean, regard with less affection, love less, esteem less.

There is some cost to following Jesus. It requires us to carry the cross and follow him. 

When I was 17 I began exploring the possibility of Christian ministry. I consulted my pastor – a young man barely ten years older than me – and he pulled a worn paperback book off his bookshelf.

It was The Cost of Discipleship by Dietrich Bonhoeffer.

“Read this,” my pastor said, “and we’ll talk.”

I was too young and uninformed to realize what a scary thing my pastor had done. 

I did not realize, at 17, that for Bonhoeffer the cost of discipleship had been severe. He had left a tenured position at Union Seminary to return to his native Germany to oppose the Third Reich. On April 9, 1945, barely a month before the war in Europe ended, Bonhoeffer was cruelly executed by the Nazis for participating in a plot to assassinate Hitler. Piano wire was wrapped around his neck and he was strung up until he slowly strangled to death.

For those who ponder discipleship, this account should be kept in mind. When Bonhoeffer decided to become a Lutheran pastor he may have anticipated a quiet life of writing and teaching. Instead, he died a martyr at 39.

E. Trey Clark, professor at Fuller Theological Seminary in Pasadena, writes, “The word ‘hate’ is sometimes used in the Hebrew Scriptures or Old Testament to mean ‘love less.’ For example, in Genesis, the phrase ‘Leah was hated’ is often interpreted to mean that Jacob ‘loved Rachel more than Leah’ (Gn 29:30) This seems to be the case here. Jesus is saying that those who want to follow him must love all others less—to such an extent that it might look like hate. Or as biblical scholar Diane Chen puts it, ‘To become Jesus’ follower, one’s preference—loyalty, love, and priority—must reside with Jesus over all people and things one holds dear.’”

“Luke continues to narrate the costliness of discipleship in verses 27 and 33. In verse 27, Jesus says, ‘Whoever does not carry the cross and follow me cannot be my disciple.’ The cross—the Roman method of execution—is used, shockingly, to speak about following the way of Jesus. As Dietrich Bonhoeffer wrote, ‘The cross is laid on every Christian.’ Said differently, the cross cannot be bypassed on the road to discipleship.”

The New Testament offers many examples of Christians who faced the consequences of discipleship.

One of my favorites was Deacon Stephen, a convert who was so zealous to win people to Jesus that he wouldn’t stop pressing his message even when it began to enrage his listeners. (Acts 6)

Sticking to one’s message can be fraught with danger.

Years ago, when I was a young magazine editor, I began receiving scores of angry letters from readers who thought the magazine was devoting too much space to social issues and too little to spiritual issues. I mentioned this to George Cornell, religion editor of the Associated Press, and asked him how he handled angry letters. George stroked his chin and said, in his Oklahoma drawl, “I tell ’em, ‘You may be right.’”

Perhaps it would have been safer for Stephen to take this approach with his critics. But instead he angered them even more with arguments so smart that they knew they could not refute them. 

Deacon Stephen, speaking truth to a power that refused to hear it, became the church’s first martyr.

For Deacon Stephen, as for Dietrich Bonhoeffer, the cost of discipleship was high.

For most of us, and for many pastors in many traditions, the cost may not be so high.

But here’s the thing: if there is no cost at all, it is not discipleship.

Throughout my forty years as a reporter, editor, layperson, and guilty bystander in church circles, I’ve observed many disciples who paid large and small prices for their discipleship.

Over the years I’ve known more than one pastor fired from his or her congregation for taking pastoral or diaconal stands they believed to be right:

For preaching against what they believed to be this nation’s immoral war in Vietnam;

For removing the U.S. flag from the church sanctuary on the grounds that God is the God of all nations and all peoples;

For participating in Civil Rights marches;

For presiding over the marriage vows of same-sex couples;

For preaching against the ownership of powerful assault rifles.

I’ve known married women pastors who have been dismissed from their congregations for getting pregnant, or for requesting a one-month leave to recuperate from a mastectomy. 

Today, in our hypertense environment, the moral questions we face cause many of us to ask whether we dare risk the cost of discipleship. Do we dare declare unequivocally:

That war and violence are always sin;

That Black Lives Matter; 

That Islam is a religion of peace;

That no person is illegal;

That no religious views should be forced upon anyone;

That everyone is entitled to express their sexuality in their own way without social prejudice or government imposition. 

That God is love;

And the greatest commandment is always to love one another as we love ourselves.

Two millennia ago, the first Christians established the role of deacon to reach out to all persons to assure they are sheltered, fed, cared for when disabled or ill, protected from prejudice or hatred, and treated with love, fairness, and justice. 

This is a role we all share.

Deacon Stephen, Dietrich Bonhoeffer, and a host of witnesses, remind us that it is not a role to be taken lightly and that it may come with costs.

But it is a role we must assume with faith in God’s grace; 

Because God’s work requires all our hands.

We are marked with the cross of Christ forever; we are claimed, gathered, and sent for the sake of the world.

Whatever the cost.