What is a parable?
Last week we started a series of parables in the Gospel of Luke. We heard that a parable is a short story about something seemingly ordinary: last week it was a wedding feast, today it’s building a tower. Because the story is ordinary, because it doesn’t sound “religious,” it slips through our defences. But as we reflect on the story, a surprise hits us — parables are stories with a twist. Then like a time bomb, the story explodes in our unprotected hearts. We realise these ordinary stories are about God and his kingdom. We realise these are ‘stories with intent’ (see book by Klyne Snodgrass). Parables (typically) have these three aspects: an ordinary story, a surprise twist, a realisation.
Let us pray. Heavenly Father: send us your Holy Spirit to open our ears to hear your preached Word. May these ordinary stories that Jesus told enter our hearts and disrupt our lives. May your Word change who we are and comfort us to life everlasting. In Jesus’ name we pray. Amen.
Ordinary story
Our gospel reading has two stories with intent (building a tower, two kings going to war), but we’re going to concentrate on the first one.
Jesus says, “Suppose someone wants to build a tower. Won’t he sit down first and figure out how much it will cost? Then he will see whether he has enough money to finish it. Suppose he starts building and is not able to finish. Then everyone who sees what he has done will laugh at him. They will say, ‘This fellow started to build. But he wasn’t able to finish.’” (Luke 14:28–30).
Sounds like a story about something ordinary. I googled “famous unfinished projects” and came up with quite a list, including these:
- Alai Minar, Dehli. Built adjacent to an existing 73 metre tower, the Alai Minar was planned to stand twice the height. But the structure measures only 24 metres tall. Construction was abandoned upon the king’s death in 1316, and the project remains unfinished.
- National Monument of Scotland. Sitting atop Calton Hill near Edinburgh, the National Monument was intended as a recreation of the Parthenon. Lack of funding left the building only partially completed when building halted in 1826. The Parthenon has 46 external columns, this copy only has 12 completed columns.
- La Sagrada Familia, Barcelona. This Roman Catholic church has been a work in progress since 1882. It is the unfinished masterpiece of artist Antoni Gaudí, who worked on the project until his death in 1926. All the architect’s documentation was lost during the Spanish Civil War (1930’s). The project is slowly being completed, funded by entrance fees from visitors. The church’s 18 towers are expected to be completed in 2026, and the decorative elements by 2032. We’ll see!
Parables are ordinary stories because we can relate to them. I can relate to this story of an unfinished tower all too well. I can’t count how many unfinished projects I have lying around my house or on my computer! Do you have any unfinished projects? Perhaps half a cross-stitch or a few squares for a quilt? A shell of an old car which you’ve started to restore but haven’t finished? What project have you started but not finished?
Jesus’ story is obvious, isn’t it?! You sit down first to figure out how much the tower will cost before you start building. Duh!
Surprise twist
But here’s the surprise twist. Jesus says that following him, being his disciple, is like building a tower. He says, “Following me is going to cost you a lot, so you better count the cost so you know what you’re getting in for.” This is not a good marketing strategy. To sell something you usually try to maximise what the consumer gets for the least amount of cost. Saying something will cost you everything just doesn’t fly! Instead of giving a speech to inflame the crowd to action, Jesus pours on a bucket of cold water! Instead of encouraging the crowd to keep going, he tells them how hard it’s going to be. Jesus says, “You must give up everything you have. If you don’t, you cannot be my disciple.”
But wait, it gets worse. Jesus antagonises the crowd further saying, “Anyone who comes to me must hate their father and mother. They must hate their spouse and children. They must hate their brothers and sisters. And they must hate even their own life.” What!? In one breath Jesus says, “Love your neighbour as you love yourself,” and in another breath he says, “Hate your family. Hate yourself.” How can we make sense of this? Why is Jesus telling us to hate our family?
Realisation
Slowly, the story does its work on our hearts. Jesus is wrenching us from our self-made world. We dream about a “Jesus” who is all love and soft cuddly teddy bears. But Jesus puts an end to our dreams, he shakes us awake with this surprising twist. Our dreams won’t save us, only the real Jesus can save us.
Jesus tells this story to the crowds. Our reading opens, ‘Large crowds were traveling with Jesus. He turned and spoke to them.’ (Luke 14:25). The crowd wanted Jesus to be their hero, a warrior who would lead them on a path to glory. This crowd was full of people with divided hearts. They wanted Jesus to help them, but without making any demands on their life. They expected Jesus to freely shower them with blessings, without recognising that Jesus offers a cross at a cost.
We can be fooled into thinking it’s only “the crowd” with these shallow ideas. But the reality is that we are in the crowd. Jesus turns to the crowd and sees you and me. Our hearts are divided. We attend church on Sunday, we might even be momentarily moved by the sermon or a song, but Monday comes around and it’s like someone flicks a switch: we look at the people around us simply work mates or competitors, not as neighbours in whom Christ meets us. We pray when we’re sick or in trouble; but once we’re out of the woods, the prayer dries up. We sing songs about love and forgiveness, but then we gossip or hold grudges against our neighbours.
As people with divided hearts, we only want a little bit of God, just enough to give us hope and comfort and blessing, but not enough to disturb our everyday life. But all this little bit does is irritate, like a superficial scratch niggling our conscience. We see what Jesus offers, but we balk the cost. We’re left with a half built tower when Jesus demands everything.
What, then, is Jesus asking us to give? Do we need to give up our family by hating them? What Jesus says by this twist is that following him means giving up defining ourselves by our family. Family is typically associated with your identity — who you are. I am a Mueller. My family has Germanic roots. My family can help tell me who I am. But Jesus says to hate your family, he says don’t get your identity from them. He also says to hate yourself. Don’t get your identity from something within yourself. You might derive your identity from what you do, saying, “I’m a farmer. I’m a piano player. I’m a footballer. I’m a mum. I’m a teacher. I’m a student.” Sure, this are part of who you are, but Jesus warns not to draw your primary identity from this. First and foremost you are a follower of Jesus. You are a baptised child of God. You are loved by God and what He says is the only thing that matters.
As part of the crowd we might have divided hearts, but Jesus is all in. He gave up everything to come to earth and die for you. He gave his life for you, he gave his body and blood. This proves Jesus is all in. And he wants you to be all in. But discipleship is no light matter. It requires intent, determination, and hard work. It requires giving up your identity in your earthly family. It calls for a willingness to carry your cross, to die, to shift the focus from yourself to others. It will affect how you see your work, how you handle finances, how you use your time, how you raise your family.
Yet discipleship is not merely a human affair. It’s not based on your effort alone, as if you can somehow muster the strength to follow Jesus. God gives you the strength to be a disciple of Jesus. God builds the tower that is your discipleship. What are the qualities of a tower? It’s tall and strong. For example, a tower in a walled fortress protects against attackers. A watchtower, with a sentinel, guards from danger. A lighthouse shines in the darkness to lead you safely to the shore. As you strive to follow Jesus, God builds a tall and strong tower that protects, guards, and leads you safely to shore. As the psalmist writes, ‘The LORD is my rock, my fortress, in whom I take refuge, my shield, my stronghold.’ (Psalm 18:2).
The church has an ancient discipleship manual called “The Catechism.” St Augustine wrote about this. He divided the six parts into three sections. He said the Ten Commandments show that we fail to meet God’s standards, and they diagnose a hereditary disease called “sin.” The Creed shows us the cure for our disease — the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus. The final four parts (Prayer, Baptism, Confession, and Communion) are the medicine we receive that heals us.
These final four parts are our discipleship tasks. As we pray, remember our baptism, confess our sins, and receive Holy Communion, we grow in our relationship with God and He builds His strong tower in our lives. We receive God’s medicine and He heals our divided hearts.
Let me close with an illustration to help us understand the cost of discipleship. Imagine you’ve just been diagnosed with a fatal heart condition. As your doctor, I tell you that you’ve got two choices. Option one: you can put on a band-aid. It’s a simple, superficial procedure. It won’t cost much, there’s no hospital stay, no cuts, no rehab. Or option two: you can undergo radical surgery — a complete heart transplant. I put you on the operating table, cut open your chest, take out your sick heart and give you another one. But this is going to hurt. There’s a long hospital stay, months of rehab, lots of medicine to take. How will you count the cost? Are you all in, or do you want the band-aid?
Jesus is all in. He’s sacrificed everything for you. Now he offers you a new life, a new heart. But it will cost you. Yes, love your family, but don’t seek your identity or meaning from them, yourself, or anything else. Your identity comes from the LORD your God, who is your fortress, rock, and stronghold, a tall tower guiding you safely to shore. Keep on working together with God to build that tower: pray, remember your baptism, confess your sins, and receive the body and blood of Jesus your saviour. Amen.[1]
[1] Various illustrations were inspired by sermons written by Helmut Thielicke and Rick Strelan.
