What If It Costs Us?--November 18, 2025

What If It Costs Us?--November 18, 2025

[Jesus said:] "You will be betrayed even by parents and siblings, by relatives and friends, and they will put some of you to death. You will be hated by all because of my name. But not a hair of your head will perish. By your endurance you will gain your souls.” (Luke 21:16-19)

These words of Jesus were never merely hypothetical.  And the risks of following Jesus didn't end with the Roman Empire.  The question put to us by this passage from Luke's Gospel, which many of us heard read in worship this past Sunday, is the same question Jesus asks of us today: Will you still share in my way of life if it costs you everything?

And in all honesty, I'm not sure many of us have really wrestled with that question as though it were a real possibility.  In the United States, at least, a good many folks tend to equate Christianity with being a model citizen--you could never be looked down on, hated, or disowned for being a Respectable Religious, person, right?  We tend to assume that physical injury, imprisonment, or even death were only dangers of the era of the Roman Coliseum, when they fed Christians to lions for sport or the Emperor blamed Christians for the fire that burned parts of Rome.  Or we make persecution seem far off and exotic--something that only happens in distant countries with official policies of atheism or communism.

But that's not the way Jesus talks here.  You don't get the impression that there's an expiration date for his warning, or fine print with an asterisk that says, "Danger only lasts until the end of 1st century AD" or "Residents of North America exempt from risk."  Jesus seems to be preparing any of us, and potentially all of us, to meet with the hostility of the world because we are committed not only to naming the name of Jesus but walking the way of Jesus.  We should at least be honest, too, that over the centuries, Christians have been jailed, tortured, or put to death not only for confessing the name of Jesus, but for taking the kind of stands that came with such a confession.

In the book of Acts, for example, when the Christian community was just beginning, the trouble we often got into came with charges like "disturbing the peace" or "inciting riots" even when we were not being violent, but rather absorbing the blows of others in the crowds who were being violent.  Or sometimes we were accused of threatening the local economy--there's a curious scene in Acts where Christians get into trouble because their teaching threatens the business of local silversmiths who make idols of the goddess Artemis.  At other times, we were accused of being subversive and treasonous because we wouldn't burn incense in honor of the Emperor or confess "Caesar is Lord." Nobody charged those first disciples with "being Christian"--rather, they found other charges to bring against us that grew out of our commitment to Christ.

Or, in a much more recent century, you likely know the words of Pastor Martin Niemoller, who was a Lutheran pastor in German in the 1920s and 1930s, and eventually (but too late, he would admit) resisted the rise of the Third Reich.  His most famous words begin, "First they came for the communists, and I did not speak up because I was not a communist. Then they came for the socialists; and I did not speak up because I was not a socialist...." and then continue on about his hesitancy to speak up for the trade unionists or the Jews, because he was neither of those.  Finally, he writes, "Then they came for me, and there was no one left to speak for me."  Niemoller regrets that he should have spoken up for others who were being mistreated, arrested, and made to disappear, and he sees in hindsight that he should have done so precisely because of his faith in Christ.  That is to say, his lament is not, "They came for me eventually because I am a Christian," but rather, "Because I am a Christian, I should have been speaking out for the well-being of others, even those who do not share my faith as a Christian."  The way of Jesus--the eternal perspective that Jesus gives to our vision--should have prompted him to speak up.  But he did not. 

Part of the horror of Martin Niemoller's witness is that he lived in a nation that proudly claimed to be "Christian," and maybe that is part of what made it so difficult even for pastors like him to realize that his own Christian faith should have led him to care for those who were being grabbed off the street and loaded into vehicles, never to be seen again. It is hard to come to the conclusion that just because you live in a society that publicly names the name of Jesus, it does not mean that such a society is in tune with the character of way of Jesus.  It is sadly quite possible that a community or a country can talk the right religious talk but negate its words by actions that run counter to the character of Christ. Looking back, Neimoller had become aware that his faith in Jesus should have led him to advocate for others, but he did not make that connection until it was too late.  Of course, the hope of his well-known quotation is that we might learn from his example and not wait until it is too late.  We who have memorized the "First they came for..." poem are meant to let those words challenge us not to miss the times when our faith in Jesus leads us to speak up, to show up, or to act up for the sake of others who are being harmed, harassed, or dehumanized. These are not hypotheticals. These are questions for this day.

Maybe even the era of 1930s Germany seems too far and remote for us.  Maybe even that era seems too much "a long time ago in a land far, far away." But then we are hit with the witness, just last week, of seven or more pastors and other faith leaders who were thrown to the ground, zip-tied, and arrested in Chicago for praying and speaking up against the mistreatment of those who have been detained recently in immigration raids in their area.  These pastors, from a range of denominations including Lutherans, Presbyterians, and Baptists, as well as other people of other faiths, went to pray, to speak, and to witness, just last Friday--and they still have the bruises on their bodies from being there.  They were trying, as well as they knew how, to take seriously both the words of Martin Niemoller, and the challenge of Jesus in these words from Luke's Gospel.  They were trying their best not to make the same mistake Niemoller came to regret--of failing to speak up until it was too late.  And like the stories of the first Christians in the book of Acts, they knew that the charges against them would make them sound like they were dangerous subversives or violent criminals; they would be accused of being "violent rioters" or "disturbing the peace," just like in the first century church.  All of this is to say that the question of following Jesus even when it costs us our reputations, our families, or our physical safety is not a moot point in the 21st century.  There are fellow disciples of Jesus whose faith is leading them to pay those prices right now.  It is worth us taking time on our own to ask what we will do if we are led to speak up in similar ways for those who are most in danger right now.  It is worth our asking what counsel Pastor Niemoller would give you and me in our place and time today.

If our faith in Jesus is more than a brand-name we wear for status, we will have to take seriously Jesus' warning that following him will cost us--perhaps the support of our family, maybe our reputations as upstanding respectable citizens, and possibly even our bodies. The news of the last week reminds us it is still true, not far from where we live. Will we let that faith lead us to speak up and show up for others who are suffering, or will we find ourselves looking back too late, wishing that we had only been brave enough earlier?  Or maybe, beneath those questions is a deeper one: do we dare to believe, as Jesus promises here in today's verses, that even when we suffer because of following Jesus, that he will preserve our lives and help us to endure?

May God give us the courage and strength to dare such a witness, and not find ourselves one day looking back wishing we had been brave.

Lord Jesus, give us the confidence to go where you lead us, to speak what you give us to speak, and to risk our well-being in ways that flow from your character and love for all.