A Time to Let Go, and a Time to Embrace -- Luke 14:15-23 (13th Sunday After Pentecost)
- Scott Clark
- Sep 7
- 11 min read
Did you know that the seasons of the church calendar follow the life of Jesus? We may not name that often... it’s just what we do... but there is a logic to it... a rhythm, a flow, year after year. Think about it. Right at the start, there is the birth of Jesus at Christmas, with the preparatory season of Advent that anticipates the coming of Jesus, then, and now, and in the days to come. There’s Epiphany, as (with the Magi) we discover how God is showing up in the world. There’s the Baptism of Jesus – the Transfiguration – a voice from heaven affirming “you are my beloved child.” There’s the preparatory season of Lent, as we walk with Jesus toward Holy Week, Maundy Thursday, Good Friday, the cross, and on into Easter -- when we celebrate Resurrection for a good 7 weeks – all the way to Pentecost – as the Spirit of Christ comes to life in all people![1]
And then we begin again, a rhythm, a flow, year after year.
With the observance of those seasons, we enter into and follow the life of Christ, year after year, patterning our life together, our days, in the life of Christ.
When we’re not in one of those designated seasons, we call it “ordinary time.” Now, I’ve always felt kind of sorry for “ordinary time,” because it sounds so, well, ordinary. “Ordinary”actually refers to ordinal numbers – 1st, 2nd, 3rd, the first Sunday after Pentecost, and then the Second, and then the Third – like numbering our days. Still, not all that exciting.
Even so, that’s where we live most of our days – in ordinary time – our ordinary days. And this Fall, we are thinking about how we meet God in those “ordinary days” with our theme – (Not So) Ordinary Time.
And here’s the thing: Jesus had plenty of ordinary days, too – days when he was living life, dusty step by dusty step, with the people he knew, the family he loved, the friends he met along the way – doing what he did, day in and day out. We don’t know much about Jesus’ first thirty years, after those birth stories. He likely did some carpentry. (“Bless the handling of my hands.”) When the Gospels pick up in his adulthood, we see Jesus teaching... and healing (remember, even on the Sabbath)... sharing meals... challenging and provoking the authorities... working for justice... gathering a smaller group of followers... and a larger crowd... and taking them on a journey with him... with Earth-shaking Good News: The reign of God is here. Right here. Right now.
This morning’s Scripture takes place on one of those ordinary days.[2] Jesus has been on the road, village to village. Remember last Sunday’s Scripture, he has just healed the woman bent over for 18 years.[3] He’s in the middle of telling stories – parables about God’s shocking and expansive welcome of all people. He’s been eating with sinners, tax collectors, and Pharisees even(!) He’s just about to tell the story of the lost sheep, the lost coin, and the Prodigal Son – that parent longing to welcome the one who is far from home, and that parent willing to re-order the world to make it so.[4]
There is a large crowd following him. And Jesus stops. He pauses. Jesus has something he needs to tell this crowd. Things are getting real, and he needs to be clear. You see this journey Jesus is on – as the crowds follow on dry dusty roads, through ordinary days: Jesus... knows where he is going. Jesus knows that he is going to Jerusalem, the place where they kill prophets. He knows that he is provoking the powers. He knows that the Way he is travelling goes straight through the fullness of human experience, on to the cross, and from there on into life. Jesus knows where he is going. He knows that this is the Way to Life. And he knows the cost.
And so he looks out at this large crowd, and he says: “OK, I need you to think this through. If you are going to follow me, into what comes next, you are going to have to forsake everything that is important to you – your family. To follow me, you must hate your family – and give up all your possessions – and you must carry your cross.” Ouch.
So let’s just face the big three questions head on:
1. What does Jesus mean: “You must hate your family?”
2. What does it mean that we have “to carry our cross”?
3. And, surely Jeus doesn’t mean that we have to give up ALL our possessions, right?
Ouch. Ouch. Ouch.
As we unpack those three questions, I want to notice four things.
So what is up with Jesus saying that those who choose to follow him must hate their mother, father, siblings, children? Well, we know that “hate” here cannot mean the emotion and violent action that we think of as “hate.” Jesus is not saying hate and do violence (emotional or physical) to your family. That would be inconsistent with everything Jesus says about the centrality of love. In the very next chapter, Jesus is going to tell the story of the prodigal son – a story of family reconciliation and love – parent and child – sibling to sibling. Scholars tend to say this “hate” language must be hyperbole – rhetorical exaggeration – Jesus is using strong language to make a big point.[5]
Yes. And, I ran across a young scholar, Trey Clark, who I thought was even more helpful.[6] He points to how the “hate” verb in Hebrew – in the Hebrew Scriptures – can sometimes come with the sense of “love less.” Love that one thing less than the thing that is more important. Love our lesser commitments less than our ultimate commitment to God. The main point in that “loving less” is loving God most.[7]
What Jesus is saying to the crowd is – Put first things first. This Way that Jesus is undertaking – particularly in the Gospel of Luke – is about nothing less than turning the world rightside up. It is 100% counter-cultural. It is an all-in proposition. Choosing to follow me, Jesus says, means that you will not be choosing the other commitments that have been important to you. You can’t both follow me and stay at home. That’s the first thing to notice that Jesus is saying here: Put first things first.
The second is that Jesus is inviting them into a path of daily letting go. You’ve got to be ready to let go of family and of all your possessions. Yes, Jesus is saying that. All your possessions, you must hold them lightly. Now hearing that read cold feels like a body blow. I can’t imagine where I would start.
But as I’ve let that settle in – I think that Jesus is saying something that is just true about life. Life is a path of daily letting go. Maybe we don’t talk about that much – because it’s hard to say. The Buddhists have language for it when they talk about impermanence.[8] Life is constant change. We have a thought, and it is gone. What I’m feeling now will be different in a few moments. Beings come and go. Every meeting includes a parting. As my friend Hattie Mae Fielder liked to say: “The best of friends must soon be parted.” Maybe our Scriptures get closest to that our the wisdom tradition, like Ecclesiastes: There’s a time for everything under the sun – a time to be born; a time to die; a time to embrace, and a time to let go. I looked around and everything was fleeting.
To live in such a world, we have to learn to let go of attachments – that clinging to what we know to be impermanent. Emilie Townes reminds us that this Scripture speaks of that in terms of “cost” – the cost (to borrow from Dietrich Bonhoffer) – the cost of discipleship – of following.[9] That little parable there – “Who among you would set out to build a building a tower without first reckoning the cost?” That’s the only time that Greek word is used in the New Testament. As Townes explains it, “cost is what we give up [or let go of] to acquire, accomplish, maintain, or produce something.”[10] And of course – as Jesus’ question implies – anyone building a building reckons the cost.[11] We did that with the roof last summer; we did that with the community fridge we’ve done that with the guest room.
Here, it is the cost – of discipleship – of following... Jesus – of turning toward the way of Jesus. Jesus stops this large crowd, and says, I need you to think this through. Anyone who wants to follow me, you need to reckon the cost.
To go all-in on that which is ultimate – this way of Jesus – what might be the lesser things we might need to let go of – our attachments?
our attachment to money and possessions,
our attachment to our fears,
our attachment to the need to be right,
our attachment to control the result, or the people around us,
our attachment to what people think,
our attachment to self-doubt,
our attachment even to the relationships that help us feel safe in a risky world – so that we might be brave and bold.
Assessing the cost, letting go, and following Jesus, “it is a process,” as Townes puts it, “it takes time and involves both false starts and modest successes, as we grow in our faith journeys to live into the fullness of humanity and dare to begin to live the holiness [the Spirit-given life] that resides in each of us”[12] – to live, in our ordinary days, these not-so-ordinary lives.
(1) Put first things first. (2) Let go of attachments.
Here’s the third thing: We “let go” so that we can “embrace.” That letting-go has a purpose. It is so that we can embrace and follow the way of Jesus. That’s the good news. The more challenging news is that Jesus reminds the crowd (and us) that what we embrace includes the cross: “You must carry your cross” – a prominent symbol in their day of the ways that Empire – that the powers go after those who follow a different way – those who live for an end to power-over – those who seek to turn the world rightside up.
We let go... to embrace... first of all... to embrace... Jesus. This is personal – this is about embracing the person of Jesus – as we follow God’s life in the midst of ours – in the midst of us. We let go to embrace God’s love for all the world in Jesus Christ. We embrace the way of Jesus – which proves to be a way of self-giving love: a way of power-with and power-for (not power-over); a way of relationships of mutuality and sharing, a way of healing; and a way of hope. It is a way full of life... and a way that goes through the cross – a way that enters into the fullness of human experience – even the hard parts, even the deep suffering of the world, even death – to bring the whole world out into life – to fill the world with the Spirit of God – so that in this hurting world – the very healing touch of Jesus shows up in our hands – in the handling of our hands.
(1) Put first things first. (2) Let go of our attachments. (3) Embrace this way that leads to life, and the cross, and the fullness of what it is to be human.
The fourth thing really runs through all of this, and it’s this: In all that Jesus is saying, he is encouraging the crowd (and us) to see things as they are. To see what matters most. To be ready to let go of that which is impermanent. To understand the cost. And to embrace that way that leads to life.
What might that look like, lived out? Well, in our life of prayer, it might look like that prayer we prayed with the kids. Holding those things that our closest to our heart before God (hands up), and then releasing them to God’s care (hands down). Holding them together, and releasing them to God. Again and again, over time, as we see our part in the healing of things, and God’s.
What might it look like in our justice work? In an unraveling world, we might need to let go of our illusion that the powers will come to their senses and fix all that is wrong – our need and longing that there be one big fix to the big terrors of the world, through the world as it has been up until this point – through this continuing cycle of power over. We might need to let go of that so that we might see clearly the different kind of power that is in our own hands – the work that is before us – as we enter into the pain of the world – the handling of our hands in growing community with the hands of others – as we become part of a healing bigger than we can imagine or design or even see all on our own.
I’m so glad that this hard Scripture comes up on a Sunday where we celebrate communion – as we come to this table where we are invited, again and again, to see things as they really are. In the regular rhythm of our ordinary days, we come to this table, and we name and remember the hard truth of a world of broken bodies and life poured out. We experience there, here a love that invites us to come again and again – no matter who we are, no matter what we’ve done. We gather with those who come from north and south, and east and west – everyone from every time and every place, and we become together a body, healed and whole. That life poured out, poured into us. The real presence of Christ, right here, right now.
In this morning’s Scripture, Jesus knew where he was going. He knew that the way would lead to the cross, and that it would first stop at this table. And so his invitation was clear, and still is. Come, follow me. Put first things first. Let go of the attachments that hold you back. Embrace the way that leads to life – to the fullness of what it is to be human.
Come, see things as they really are... and live.
© 2025 Scott Clark
[1] For an accessible and excellent overview of the meanings underlying the liturgical calendar, I highly recommend Joan Chittister, The Liturgical Year: The Spiraling Adventure of the Spiritual Life (Nashville, TN: Thomas Nelson Publishing, 2009).
[2] For general background on this text and the Gospel of Luke, see E. Trey Clark, Commentary on Working Preacher at https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/ordinary-23-3/commentary-on-luke-1425-33-6 ; R. Alan Culpepper, “The Gospel of Luke,” New Interpreters’ Bible Commentary, vol. ix (Nashville, TN: Abingdon Press, 1995); Justo L. González, Luke (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2010); Donald K. McKim, Commentary in Connections, Year C, vol. 3(Louisville, KY; Westminster John Knox Press, 2018), pp.298-300; Sharon Ringe, Luke (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 1995); Mitzi Smith and Yung Suk Kim, “Gospel of Luke,” Toward Decentering the New Testament: A Reintroduction (Eugene, OR: Cascade Books, 2018); Emilie M. Townes, Commentary in Feasting on the Word, Year C, vol. 4 (Louisville, KY; Westminster John Knox Press, 2010), pp.44-48.
[3] See https://www.togetherweserve.org/post/bless-thou-the-handling-of-our-hands-luke-13-10-17-12th-sunday-after-pentecost
[4] See https://www.togetherweserve.org/post/for-all-those-who-are-far-from-home-luke-15-11-32-trinity-sunday
[5] See Culpepper, p.292; Townes, p.44.
[6] See E. Trey Clark, Commentary on Working Preacher at https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/ordinary-23-3/commentary-on-luke-1425-33-6
[7] See McKim, p. 299, who describes this as “a call to give up all lesser loyalties,” and Ringe, p. 200, who describes this “hate” as “not being so attached [to lesser loyalties] that their well-being, or even our own survival, is one’s first priority”).
[8] See, e.g., Thich Nhat Hanh, Silence: The Power of Quiet in a World Full of Noise (New York, NY: HarperCollins, 2015 (Kindle Edition)), pp.64-66, which includes a guided meditation on impermanence.
[9] See Townes, p.46.
[10] Id.
[11] See Culpepper, p. 292, who describes this as a lesson in basic prudence.
[12] See Townes, p.46.
Comments