It’s hard to make friends when you start out by bragging, but there are exceptions to most rules, and sometimes just the right exception can open a door. I’m willing to bet you’d want to brag about this story too. And every word is true.
Here’s how it happened. Kelsey, my (awesome) wife, was leaving our home to bring someone to the airport. Recently she had pointed out that since the upstairs toilet was a slow unreliable flusher, the kids were competing for the downstairs toilet a little more often than any of us preferred. Yes, competition is the right word in a house with seven children. The moment she left I sprang into action and ran to Menards. I bought a toilet with all the fixings (delicious), including one wrong-sized compression fitting valve. I brought everything home. I ripped the old toilet out, and got it into the trash without any mess—with the help of two apprentices. I scraped out the old wax ring with an audience of kids predictably exclaiming, “ew that is disgusting, look at that old poop.” Of course it was just old wax, but as an experienced dad I couldn’t just waste their ignorance, so I played along for a bit, waiving the sludge on the end of a paint stick in their direction. After that entertaining detour I put the new wax ring on and then the new toilet in. It was incredible. I was going to have this thing done without one hitch, and I was all smiles. Then I realized I had the wrong valve, time was ticking, I started to sweat a little. Any extra trip to Menards and I would fail to finish before Kelsey came home. Not a chance! I had to prove that I’d made it to the next level of manhood, the place where I could call order into the chaotic abyss of a DIY plumbing project and emerge successful, on time, on budget and make it look easy. I went out to the garage and rummaged through my old plumbing drawer. After a few minutes I found a used one, you know, those one-time use ones. Somehow I got it off the old pipe intact and reused it on the upstairs toilet. Kelsey pulled in just as I was sweeping up the last of the rubble—about three hours after I started the clock. And it all worked perfectly, barely an extra part, only one trip to Menards, we’re talking a perfect ten with the bonus of justifying my plumbing drawer. I know what you’re waiting for. You’re waiting for the math to work out. Upstairs toilet, check; rush-job, check; reused old one-time-use plumbing part, double check. You’ve done the math. You’re waiting for the middle of the night scenario where something starts leaking onto the face of the person sleeping in our guest bedroom below and the awkward explanation that, ‘it’s actually toilet water.” And no, adding the word delicious doesn’t make them smile at that point. You’ve been through enough of these scenarios to know what should be coming. But you’re wrong. It’s been working without a hitch for...almost two-years? It was the ten toilets and remodel projects before this one that finally got me one project that went perfectly. And you know the purpose stories like this serve; this story is here to help me plow ahead for the next twenty projects that I jump into over my head. And I’ve probably helped you persuade your spouse that it will be a cinch to do that plumbing project you’ve been toying with. Yep, this is the stuff of legends, and you’ve probably got one in you too. But if you’re newly married, don’t expect to achieve this level until you’re at least forty, after about ten over-budget all weekend plumbing fixes. I earned this one. So did my wife.
You see, the truth is, counting the cost is something we categorically avoid. We lie to ourselves almost every day about the cost of things. And there are good reasons—like trying to maintain sanity. I can hardly count the number of projects I have jumped into telling myself, “this is going to work easily.” But I know it won’t. And it’s not all bad, right? I mean part of it is just the optimism it takes to try something, to get out of bed in the morning. Who would really want to have kids before they know everything that’s involved? But then you’ve got to see the whole thing through because you’re in over your head and the stakes are high. Then somewhere along the line you rise to the challenge, and you become someone different than you were at the start. Some of you have been praying for the chance to discover that struggle. And your response to this struggle also defines you in ways you couldn’t have known beforehand, causing questions about purpose, feelings of loneliness and quiet suffering—the cost of hope. But there are some struggles that do not lead to a satisfying end. Some costs cannot be ignored, and there are many costs we are not qualified to calculate.
What is the cost of a careless comment, on social media? What is the cost of our temper? What is the cost of getting the policy we hoped for by forcing it through—to the praise of half the nation and cursing breaths from the other? What is the cost of snuffing out a human life for our own convenience or gain? And what is the cost of feigning love for the weak and powerless only for political sway? What is the cost of shutting down the jobs that feed struggling families? What is the cost of free money and microscopic interest rates? What is the cost of an extreme materialist culture? What is the cost of building a new house or a kitchen remodel? There’s an easy right answer. Yes, there IS an easy right answer—a lot more than we thought it would cost.
People will always have to face decisions, the ends of which they can never really see. But there is one path which has been laid out for us; it is well marked, and the cost of this path is not a secret. Don’t get me wrong, there is an enormous amount of confusion about this path. You see, some believe this path leads to salvation—it does not. But salvation through the blood of Jesus does lead to this path. In fact, salvation only leads to this path. Some people believe this path leads to better health, higher paying jobs, and earthly blessing. It does not. Some people believe this path leads to status and respect—they call it the high road. But again, they are mistaken because those who follow after Christ are not thought to be wise; they are thought to be fools. The road that Christ marked out is called many things, but all of the true names point to the things Christ promised. What did he promise? He says clearly in Luke 14 that following him will cost everything, and after stating this he asks his listeners to count the cost. If you’re signing up to be a part-time follower then you’re signing up to be someone else’s disciple—not a follower of Jesus. Maybe you came for the food. You’re not alone. But Christ invites you to stay for your own death so that you can live fully in Him.
Luke 14:25-30 “Large crowds were traveling with Jesus, and turning to them he said:“If anyone comes to me and does not hate father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters—yes, even their own life—such a person cannot be my disciple.And whoever does not carry their cross and follow me cannot be my disciple. “Suppose one of you wants to build a tower. Won’t you first sit down and estimate the cost to see if you have enough money to complete it? For if you lay the foundation and are not able to finish it, everyone who sees it will ridicule you, saying, ‘This person began to build and wasn’t able to finish.’”
Crosses are still for dying. Jesus doesn’t ask us to take up our cross because crosses are enriching life-hacks. But the death we die we die to the flesh, and we are raised to new life in Christ.
John 12:24 Very truly I tell you, unless a kernel of wheat falls to the ground and dies, it remains only a single seed. But if it dies, it produces many seeds.
John 15:18-20“If the world hates you, keep in mind that it hated me first. If you belonged to the world, it would love you as its own. As it is, you do not belong to the world, but I have chosen you out of the world. That is why the world hates you. Remember what I told you: ‘A servant is not greater than his master.’ b If they persecuted me, they will persecute you also. If they obeyed my teaching, they will obey yours also.
Many people will quote John 19:28 …”it is finished” to show that there is nothing for us to do. It is true that the atoning sacrifice for the salvation of our souls in payment for the sin of the world was the business of Christ alone on the cross. But we each have our own cross, and our cross is not finished. Our cross does not bring salvation, but our salvation arrives with a cross. If you find this difficult to accept you are not alone. But truly, for those who know they are sick, counting the cost is not a complex calculation. The one who has been forgiven much loves much —see Luke 7:47. Also, "The kingdom of heaven is like treasure hidden in a field. When a man found it, he hid it again, and then in his joy went and sold all he had and bought that field.” Matthew 13:44 In that picture the man’s death is represented by selling everything that he had. This pattern is repeated throughout the gospels, and the disciples and the early church lived this pattern out. They counted their belongings and physical life as nothing in service to Christ. They did not see it as a metaphor or Jewish Rabinic hyperbole. For the first three centuries of the church it would have been laughable to consider these teachings such—they were the normal way of life.
This road, the way of the cross, it is the road on which you lose your life to find it. It is the way of the upside down kingdom, which is not from this earth. It is the road where the greatest is the servant of all, where you put others above yourself, and you seek the glory of God. This road is marked with suffering.
—reh
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