Sermon preached by Rev. Margie Quinn and Rev. Wesley King on September 7, 2025
The last couple of weeks we have been digging into the book of Luke. And if you've been here, and if you haven't been here, that's okay. You have heard about this man named Jesus and what he's been up to. He has been up to some radical healing. Healing a man with a withered hand. Healing a woman who was hemorrhaging blood for 12 years. Healing someone who was paralyzed. Healing a little girl who many presumed dead. And he's also been doing some other kinds of radical welcome. He's been feeding thousands of people with just a few loaves and fish. And last week, the gospel reading showed us that when Jesus talks about inviting people to this great dinner, this banquet, that he means everyone. And he shows us that this form of inclusion doesn't just mean some, it means all. That his radical healing is actually not discriminating based on gender or wealth or social status. That he is touching lepers and people that no one else would talk to or touch. And he's breaking rules when he does it, even doing it on the Sabbath. That is what our Savior has been up to. We've had some tough talks from Jesus as well. A couple of weeks ago I had the privilege, we'll call it, of preaching on the text where Jesus says, "I did not come to bring peace. Instead, I came to bring strife and division." And that was a passage that makes a lot of people, myself included, really uneasy to kind of reconcile who we've built up Jesus to be in our heads and then who Jesus says that he is in scripture.
This tough talk that he gives us today that Eric just read in some ways might come as a surprise or startle us. But if we read the passage right before, we have a little context clue that Jesus is about to sit us down and tell us some stuff. Because when he talks about this great banquet, he says this: "Don't invite your friends or your brothers. Don't invite your relatives or your rich neighbors. When you give a banquet, scripture says, invite the poor, invite the crippled, invite the lame, invite the blind, and you will be blessed." So today's text shouldn't be that surprising because in the context of Luke, we know that Jesus, this God of acceptance and compassion, is also sometimes that person that's going to sit us down and give us a little talking-to. And that's what he does today. He is speaking to a big old crowd. Clearly, these are people who were compelled by what he was saying. And these followers may have really loved his words. And they may also have been people who were acquiring material possessions and had economic comfort over in the Roman Empire and were people who took pride in their social status. And they know that Jesus is a captivating figure with a powerful message.
But he's also asking for a significant commitment, a significant commitment, one that goes beyond just getting baptized and one that asks and urges us to consider a lifelong cost of discipleship. As Lynn Japinga puts it, Jesus looks out at this crowd and says, "You need to know what you're in for. Be prepared for loss. Be prepared for poverty. Be prepared for suffering. Following me, I never promised it would be easy, but I promised it would cost something to gain something."
In other words, there is a cost to discipleship. And after giving this sermon, I kind of wonder how many people left and said, "I really liked the guy who was about healing everybody and the guy who invited us to dinner. I don't know about this guy who was giving us a pep talk that I don't really want to hear." It is hard to consider that cost. And even in the early church, they actually took this lesson quite literally. They were going off into the desert to pray. They were building their own monastic communities. They were even suffering as martyrs on the cross. I don't know about y'all, I'm not going to the desert and I'm not going to a monastery. So, what does it mean for me, for us today, when we think about the cost of discipleship?
Some of you know that I've been digging into the history of this church more and more since I've started here. History has always been one of those areas of interest for me. And I recently read this phrase in the Designed for Worship book that Vine Street and many other Nashville churches are listed in. It's in my office if you want to borrow it. And this quote says, "The Reverend Wayne Bell led Vine Street through the tumultuous 1960s, and some members left for other churches when Bell made it clear that all people, regardless of race, were welcome at the table of Jesus Christ and thus were welcome at Vine Street Christian Church."
And so I wanted to learn a little bit more about this. So I actually called Stephen Moseley's dad, Reverend Dr. Dan Moseley, who was the associate pastor under Dr. Bell, and he told me that the tension was high, to put it lightly, at Vine Street. On one hand, you had Vanderbilt and other university faculty who had found refuge here because of their pro-integration views and that being shared by Dr. Bell. And then on the other hand, you had folks with the town and gown conflict—those who were from this area who had lived here all of their lives versus those who had just moved here either for schooling or to teach at one of the universities.
Dan told me that there were some Sunday school classes here at this church even that petitioned the board of elders to remove Bell and remove Moseley because of their politics when it came to integration. One group of men, Dan tells me, came to Sunday school every week, but then they hung out in the kitchen during the worship service in protest to Bell's stance on integration and a couple of other matters. Thankfully, the board of elders rejected their petition. But he told me that Reverend Bell began to record his sermons because people were misconstruing what he said and making false statements about him and his sermons, and he thus needed proof about what he was saying. Mosley also told me that some folks outside of the church even protested right on those front steps because they believed that Vine Street wasn't doing enough when it came to the fight for integration.
So, some folks left, yes. But Mosley also told me that many folks who opposed Bell's views on integration stayed, stating that nobody would run them out of their church. Bell and Moseley's discipleship to a God who made all of his children equal and beloved in God's own image was costly to them. They sacrificed their mental state, their well-being, their comfortableness just to be inclusive of all of God's people without barriers.
Nowadays, one would hope that integration is a given. That the idea that someone's race should not preclude them from certain spaces or rights or opportunities, I would hope, is a basic understanding of how we treat our neighbors. But in the 1960s, this was bold. This was radical welcome. And so I can only imagine what our cost for discipleship would look like in our lifetime. And I ask the question: will we be ready? Have we missed it already? Is there still time to pick up our cross, to deny our comfortableness and our social status in order to be that justice-seeking, mercy-giving, all-loving disciple of Jesus Christ?
That's the history of our church. That history is the heartbeat of our church. But it's not something we can just look back on with appreciation or nostalgia. That is the blueprint of our church. That is the roadmap. Because in our passage this morning, Jesus does not mince words. He says, "Your discipleship will cost you something." And in verse 28 he says, "Work out how much it'll cost." Cost is used one time in the New Testament—one time—and it's right here. You are going to have to sacrifice something to gain something.
As scholar N. T. Wright puts it, Jesus isn't denying the importance of close family here. He's not denying the need to live in supportive harmony. But there is this urgent task to be done, as there is right now. And everything else, including one's own life, has to be put at risk for the sake of the kingdom of God. Which makes me wonder, have I really thought through what I'm about? Or has following Jesus become too easy? If I'm not experiencing some kind of cost to my discipleship, I might need to reexamine my faith today.
And the cost of discipleship—it might feel kind of elusive to us. It does to me. I don't have to sacrifice much in my life to claim that Jesus is Lord. I really don't. I have the comfort of sitting in my own faith tradition in this country, my own race, my own nationality. But there are times when I have felt that cost. Just a couple of months ago, we posted a sermon clip of something I preached, and a boy, a teenage boy from Canada—we don't know him—commented under it. He wrote, "Get this bee," and I'll let you fill in the rest, "Get this bee out of the pulpit." Inconsequential. I don't know him. That's just a comment on social media. But it really rattled me that there are young people who are growing up in our country who don't think that women should preach or teach or hold spiritual authority. And yet I deeply feel called to this work. But sometimes it's coming at the cost of criticism and condescension and callousness.
So in those moments, it would be easy to retreat and say, "Maybe he's right. Maybe these people who don't think I should be wearing this and doing this up here—maybe they're right." But I know Jesus, and I follow Jesus. And he never promised ease. But he promised me that following him—yeah, it would come at a cost, but I would get to be his disciple and gain something out of that. I've worked in churches for a long time, since I was 16 years old. But you know, it wasn't until after I came out that I had the courage to finally accept my own call to ministry—something that I had known was coming for a long time, but didn't have the courage to do until I was my authentic self. And it's been immensely rewarding. And it's been really hard, y'all.
I had one family member come to my ordination. Thankfully, I had a lot of chosen family and friends come as well. Some of you were there. But the truth remains that there are folks that do not believe that we should be up here doing this, that we should even be pastors because of who we are. But we aren't here to follow the beliefs and the thoughts of men. We are here to follow the will of God who has undoubtedly called each of us—not just Margie and I, but each of us—to do justice and love mercy and walk humbly with God, to love our neighbors and help bring that kingdom of God down to earth.
Silence can be uncomfortable, but I just want you to take a minute and think about—you know, Reverend McNeil last week said, "There's a difference between being a Christian and being a disciple." And part of that is a cost. So, just take a minute. We can do it. Think about what that cost might be for you today in your own discipleship. I've worn cross necklaces. I've worn cross earrings. But I have not always carried my cross. I haven't always been willing to. If we never feel the sacrifice of our faith, we've got to have a good honest look at what we are willing to give up along the way.
Maybe it's money or pride. Maybe it's greed or entitlement. Maybe it's possessions. Maybe it's comfort. Maybe it'll cost you socially to be kind to those kids at school who nobody talks to. Maybe it'll cost you your own comfort to be witnesses for justice and fairness in our city. And maybe it'll cost you a greater wealth when you give to those in need. That's for you to think about. We know what it cost our predecessors—Wesley just told us. But what will it cost us?
As scholar Emily Towns writes, the cost isn't just about becoming this accumulator of information. And it's not just about changing our behavior in regards to Jesus and his teaching. The cost—listen here, she's so brilliant—the cost is engaging in a profoundly radical shift toward the ethics of Jesus with every fiber of our being. Every fiber of our being. And that's our homework today, church: to pray that we may have this radical shift toward the ethics of Jesus with every fiber of our being. That we might consider the cost, that we might carry the cross, and we might be willing to risk our own comfort, not just as a Christian, but as a disciple of Christ. That's the homework for you and me.
And our homework is going to start right now. We are going to take the prayer that Eric read earlier in the service, found in your bulletin. But I'd love for us to read it collectively this morning as a recommittal, as we begin to recommit ourselves as we do each and every week that we come to this place to be that justice-seeking, mercy-giving, loving people of God.
And so let us read together the prayer.
Forgiving God, you gave us a wonderful world filled with beauty, power, and majesty. Yet we have not treated this world or one another with compassionate love. We have turned our backs on situations of need in which we could have been instruments of help, healing, and peace. We have neglected service to others and have focused our lives on accumulating things and status. We have chased after false gods—greed, power, fame. We have chosen comfort over a costly discipleship. But you are the potter, O Lord. You have fashioned us. Refashion us to be your people, following your ways, living your words aloud, celebrating your love in service to others. For we ask this in the name of Christ Jesus. Amen.
Friends, may it be so and may we make it so. Amen.