Fit for the Kingdom of God

Sermon — The Rev. Greg Johnston
June 29, 2025
Lectionary Readings

Jesus’ words this morning come at an urgent turning-point in the story of his life. The time has come for him to be “taken up” (Luke 9:51), and this phrase contains a multitude of meanings. He will be raised up on the Cross to die, and he will be raised up to new life from the grave, and he will be taken up from earth to return to heaven. And he knows where he has to go for all these things to take places. They’re going to happen in the Holy City, the place where God’s Temple is found, and so he sets his face to go to Jerusalem. (9:51)

Jesus grew up in the Jewish province of Galilee, to the north. And he’s spent the last year, traveling around Galilee and the neighboring Gentile lands, preaching and teaching and performing miracles, gathering a group of students and disciples who follow him around, trying to learn about the coming kingdom of God. He’s spent the year trying to explain to them what exactly it means that he is the Messiah, and how that will be different from what they thought. And now, together, they’re going to go south to the Holy City, where Jesus will be taken up and the disciples will be sent out to spread the good news of his Resurrection and to live the rest of their lives in accordance with his teachings.

There’s just one problem with the plan: the disciples keep completely missing the point.

In between Galilee up north and Jerusalem to the south you find Samaria. And the people there, the Samaritans, are not exactly on good terms with the Jews. And they’re really not on good terms with the Temple in Jerusalem. The primary distinction between Samaritans and Jews is a disagreement about the location of the Holy City itself: Jews believed and believe that the Temple where God’s presence most fully dwelt was on Mount Zion in the city of Jerusalem; Samaritans believed and still believe (a few hundred of them still remain!) that the holy place was not in Jerusalem but on Mount Gerizim near the modern city of Nablus, just to the north. The relationship had always been tense, as things often are between two closely-related groups. But it had escalated into outright hostility over the century before Jesus’ birth, especially after a Judean army destroyed the Samaritan Temple.

So this village of Samaritans refuse to offer hospitality to someone on a pilgrimage to the competing holy site, and the disciples are mad, especially James and John, who are so infamously hot-headed that Jesus nicknames them the Sons of Thunder. (Mark 3:17) And these Sons of Thunder ask, “Lord, should we smite ’em? Just give the word—we’ll call down fire from the sky!” (9:54)

And we don’t get to hear what’s going on in Jesus’ head, but we can guess, because we’ve heard all the things he already had to say to them. Leaving aside the fact that the disciples have shown no ability to smite people so far, we know that this is not really Jesus’ kind of thing. We heard the angels singing at his birth, “Glory to God in the highest, and peace to his people on earth.” (Luke 2:14) We heard Jesus tell his disciples, “Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you.” (6:27) We heard him say, “Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God.” (Matt. 5:9) Jesus is clear. Raining down fire from the sky on your enemies is not what Christians do. But James and John have completely missed the point. And Jesus doesn’t give them a remedial course in Christian ethics. He just rebukes them, angrily, and goes on.

And they continue along the road, he keeps having these encounters with would-be disciples expressing their faith. But it seems that they keep missing the point, as well. In particular, they don’t seem to understand the urgency or the meaning of the moment: that Jesus is going, right now; and that he’s going toward his death, not toward glory.

And so first someone comes and says, “I will follow you wherever you go.” (Luke 9:57) But Jesus has nowhere to go but the Cross; he has “nowhere to lay his head” but the tomb, and he doesn’t want to take them with him there. (9:57) Jesus calls another to follow him, and he says, “Sure, but my father’s just died; let me plan the funeral first.” He needs some time, but there’s no time to spare. (9:59-60) And yet another would-be disciple says, “I’ll follow you, Lord—just let me say goodbye to my family first.” (9:61) And Jesus answers with a general phrase: “No one who puts a hand to the plow and looks back is fit for the kingdom of God.” (9:62)

This series of exchanges is increasingly harsh. I can understand Jesus’ rebuke to James and John for wanting to destroy a village just for not welcoming him. I can make sense of his claim that we can’t follow him everywhere, because he has nowhere to lay his head. I can understand the urgency of the moment that Jesus is in, but two thousand years later, following Jesus doesn’t feel so urgent any more, and I struggle with the high bar that Jesus sets: with this idea that no one who hesitates, no one who turns around to say goodbye, is fit for the kingdom of God.

I don’t think I’m alone in struggling with that high bar of dedication. In fact, I know I’m not alone, because every single one of the disciples fails to meet clear that bar. The three apostles of the Twelve who are closest to Jesus are Peter, James, and John. We’ve already seen how well James and John have absorbed the message of the Prince of Peace; Peter’s still got his hand to the plow, and he’s going to claim that he will follow Jesus wherever he will go, but one day he’ll do the ultimate in turning back. He’ll deny even knowing who Jesus is! “Didn’t I see you with your hand on that plough?” the Judeans will see. And Peter will answer, “Who, me? I’ve never seen these oxen before in my life!”

In fact, from the very moment that Jesus sets his face on Jerusalem, the disciples begin falling away, and we’ve never lived up to his standard ever since. No matter how hard we try, we cannot perfect ourselves. We cannot bear the weight of that yoke. By this standard, there’s only one person who’s fit for the kingdom of God, and it turns out to be Jesus himself.

And yet here we are. We have not been smote. God has not rained down fire from the sky on us. Nor has all humanity been excluded from the kingdom of God on account of our imperfection. Peter and James and John have been invited in, and have you. Jesus is the only one who’s worthy to open that door, but he’s held it open for us. God has made the choice to look at our imperfection as see us through Jesus’ perfect love, and then to send the Holy Spirit to help us grow to fill the gap.

And we are still growing, every one of us. Humankind is not made up of two sorts of people, the good and the bad—those who live according to the flesh and those who live according to the Spirit—those who are jealous, and angry, and envious; and those who are loving, joyful, and patient. And Paul knows this very well. If people were either one or the other, good or bad, there would be no point in Paul writing letters like the letter Paul writes to the Galatians—the good would already be good, and the bad would be beyond redemption. But that’s not the case.

Every one of us is imperfect. Every one of us has put a hand to the plow and look back. Every one of us has behaved like Peter, James, or John. Every one of us has let our relationships with the people around us be shaped by envy, quarreling, and strife. But God has also planted in each one of us the seeds of the Spirit: the seeds of love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. There’s plenty of work to do to try to clear out the weeds that choke those things out. But in the end, the burden doesn’t fall on us; because it’s the Holy Spirit of God who is working in each one of us to help us grow. So “if we live by the Spirit, let us also be guided by the Spirit.” Amen.