COUNTING THE COST WITHOUT COWARDICE
Luke wrote two back-to-back chapters placing two strategic sendings next to each other. Of course, he did not himself partition “Luke chapter 9” and “Luke chapter 10” when he first authored his report of Jesus’ incarnate life and ministry with a subsequent sister account of the early apostolic movement,[1] but now that we have chapter divisions we can say simply: In Luke 9, Jesus sent out the twelve to “do the thing.” In Luke 10, He sent seventy-two out to “do the thing.” His strategic mobilization methods are described and deliberately couched within a few significant conversations, and we would be remiss to not see their places on the shelf of stories and history—because we need to see all the things they’re placed within and around if we ourselves are going to “do the thing” faithfully as our Commander intends we do. If we are to “go into all nations” and provide a witness of “this Gospel of the Kingdom” before (and, to a degree, hastening) the end of this age, “teaching them to obey all” Jesus commanded us,[2] Luke offers us key distinctives critical to mission clarity between these two sendings, largely in “chapter nine.”
When the twelve were sent out (9:1-6), it stirred up enough of a commotion that the Roman government’s puppet Herod marveled at the implications of Jesus’ Name spreading across the nation like holy wildfire (vv. 7-9). This was immediately—“on their return”—followed by this Man, whose Name carries prophetic power to heal, using a school kid’s packed lunch to effectively feed 20,000+ people (conventionally, “feeding the five thousand” accounts for 5,000 grown men—now account for their wives and children) on a remote hill in the upper Galil (vv. 10-17). Then (vv. 18-20) Jesus pulled His twelve from the start of this chapter back off to the side and pressed them on the swirling rumors and mounting suspicions about, very simply, who He is—starting with the crowds (who, like Herod, had all kinds of ideas) before confronting them on the positions of their own hearts. This is the moment Peter first bore witness to what only the Spirit can reveal:[3] “You are the Messiah of God.”
Then things immediately pivoted to the Cross. Consider this: the revelation of the victorious Son of Man necessitates His suffering. Twice in Luke 9, Jesus explicitly and emphatically tells His boys that He will soon be handed over, slaughtered, and resurrected. Twice in one chapter (vv. 21-22; 43b-45) with the Transfiguration slid in as a bonus between the two occasions, when Jesus shone in Revelation-1-glory with Moses and Elijah alongside as they “spoke of His departure, which He was about to accomplish in Jerusalem.”[4]
Jesus’ glory is inextricably tethered to and interwoven with His strategic purposes which He “must” and “will” accomplish.[5]
The next day, Jesus and His disciples return from the mountain and are met by a crowd of people who’ve waited to see more miracles, hear more teaching, and receive more healing. One father appeals to His power to heal a tormented, demonized little boy—whom Jesus’ disciples had been unable to effectively deliver (vv. 37-40). Jesus laments the faithlessness of the generation, delivers the child, returns him to his father, and everyone again marvels at Jesus (vv. 41-43a).
But while everyone marveled at all the things which Jesus did, He said to His disciples, “Let these words sink down into your ears: the Son of Man is about to be betrayed into the hands of men.”[6]
Don’t believe the press, boys; we’re heading to the rodeo. No one in the troop had the gall to ask Him what He meant—and it’s entirely possible they didn’t want more clarity at the time, because John the Baptist just got beheaded and don’t we all try to avoid inconvenient news?—but they had all the bandwidth in the world for a bit of competition against someone who actually was able to cast out demons in Jesus’ Name (vv. 44-56). The Lord kindly shut down their egos with a little chat about servant leadership, decentralized growth, and in the next breath gently rebuked a bloodthirsty grasp for prophetic significance and reminded them of the Son of Man’s ultimate mission: to save lives, rather than destroy them.
Meanwhile, as they continued traveling, someone approached this Man at the center of all the crowds, all consequence, and all controversy and pledged total allegiance:
Lord, I will follow You wherever You go.[7]
Remember, Jesus just said, “Do not forbid the guy casting out demons in My Name. He who is not against us is with us.”[8] So imagine all the ways He could’ve responded here, and then consider His words:
Foxes have holes and birds of the air have nests, but the Son of Man has nowhere to lay His head.[8]
Then He turned around and says to “another, ‘Follow Me.’”[9] Yet unlike Peter, Levi, and so many others who immediately obeyed the then-rare invitation, this one had a delay:
Lord, let me first go and bury my father.[10]
Jesus didn’t seem to blink:
Let the dead bury their own dead—but you go and preach the Kingdom of God.[11]
Another one jumped into the conversation:
Lord, I will follow You, but let me first go and bid them farewell who are at my house.[12]
But Jesus said to him these sobering words:
No one, having put his hand to the plow, and looking back, is fit for the Kingdom of God.[13]
These quips are not the only times in Scripture Jesus would deflate the balloon of someone’s best intentions with one crafted phrase; He did it with Peter when He called the young man Satan,[14] and once more hours before the mob came for His arrest in Gethsemane.[15] Hear me: Luke opens the section of his record of Jesus’ incarnate life and ministry that we know as “chapter nine” with the story of the twelve first sent out to “do the thing.” It’s super cool, and they get all riled up about all the gnarly, vibrant, miraculous, supernatural things that happened in Jesus’ Name through their hands and ministry. They’re a bit immature and yet-unformed to handle it, but Jesus is a good shepherd and He’s getting them ready to do “greater things” without Him explicitly around to help.[16] And as we read Luke’s Gospel, we’re about a breath and beat away from Jesus sending seventy-two Gospel laborers around the whole nation in teams of two. This is deliberate, strategic training and mobilization to exalt the Name of Jesus and serve the purposes of God in their generation. It’s an exciting, historic moment and would’ve been a huge privilege to be part of. It was an early glimpse of the way Paul would later put what it means to be a “good soldier”: “Die. Endure. Don’t deny.”[17] Go where you are told to go and do what you are told to do. Soldier up.
And it was serious enough of an assignment that Jesus provided no illusions about its grandeur. “Field ministry for Jesus” puts you on an expedited path towards self-implosion (just ask Peter and Judas Iscariot) as it tends to apply a unique addition of stress that, ironically, “empowers flesh” (using the words of clinical psychiatrist and veteran laborer Hamilton T. Burke).[18] There is no room for bombast in the apostolic ministry.
There are no heroes, save for Jesus. I believe Luke structures this account of the two mobilization initiatives to make this point. Disciple-making, particularly in foreign contexts, is not for the faint of heart. But it is yet a mandate, a commission, and not a suggestion.[19] You don’t get to opt out simply because it’s “not your vibe.” Yet, live “wise as a serpent, gentle as a dove.”[20] Be obedient without being an idiot, and part of not being an idiot means you need to weigh up the severity and consequence of the mission and commit to it whole-heartedly. There is no place for cowards or cowardice in the Kingdom of God.[21] As John Piper is known for saying, when it comes to the Great Commission, you either “go,” you send, or you disobey. One way or another, you must engage. You cannot bail AWOL.
To engage in this age, to obey our Commander’s assignment, we must soberly reckon with this age.[22] We must soberly reckon with the Man and Messiah, Jesus of Nazareth.[23] And we must soberly reckon with the cost.[24] But remember this: only cowards take their hands off the plow and turn around. Only cowards abdicate the responsibilities of the uniform they’ve been enlisted to wear and return to civilian life for the hell of it.[25] Only cowards pursue comfort over cost.
And the government of the ages to come has no room for cowards.
This is a faithful saying:
For if we died with Him,
We shall also live with Him.
If we endure,
We shall also reign with Him.
If we deny Him,
He also will deny us.
If we are faithless,
He remains faithful;
He cannot deny Himself.[26]
Foxes have foxholes. Following Jesus will readily put you in one. Die. Endure. Don’t deny. And soldier up.[27]
Maranatha.
Stephanie Quick (@quicklikesand) is a writer/producer serving with FAI. She lives in the Golan Heights and cohosts The Better Beautiful podcast with Jeff Henderson. Browse her free music, films, and books in the FAI App and at stephaniequick.org.
[1] Acts 1:1
[2] See Matthew 24:14; 28:18-20; 2 Peter 3:12
[3] Matthew 16:17
[4] Luke 9:31
[5] Matthew 24:14; Ephesians 3:8-11; Revelation 1:1; 4:1; 22:6
[6] Luke 9:43b-44
[7] Luke 9:57
[8] See Luke 9:50
[9] Luke 9:58
[10] Luke 9:59
[11] Luke 9:60
[12] Luke 9:61
[13] Luke 9:62
[14] Matthew 16:23; Mark 8:33
[15] Matthew 26:34; Mark 14:30; Luke 22:34
[16] John 1:50; 5:20; 10:11; 15:1-17
[17] See 2 Timothy 2:1-13
[18] Dr. Burke has written a three-volume manual on Effective Kingdom Service in Hostile Places. Get to know his work (https://2819consulting.com) or read his books: https://www.amazon.com/Effective-Kingdom-Service-Hostile-Places-ebook/dp/B08KWV4P9J?ref_=ast_sto_dp
[19] Matthew 28:18-20; Acts 1:8
[20] Matthew 10:16
[21] Revelation 21:8
[22] Luke 9:23-27
[23] Luke 9:18-21
[24] Luke 9:57-6
[25] 2 Timothy 2:4
[26] 2 Timothy 2:11-13
[27] Thomas, D. (2021) Soldier Up, FAI PUBLISHING. Retrieved from https://www.faipublishing.org/articles/soldier-up
