Jesus is not a subscription

There are some things in life you can dip in and out of without much thought. Take streaming subscriptions. During Covid I signed up to Disney+ so I could binge my way through all the Marvel films. As soon as I’d finished, I cancelled it. More recently I subscribed to Paramount+ for a week, just so I could watch the new Star Trek series — then cancelled it the moment I’d finished.

That’s the thing with streaming. You can be in one month, out the next. No great cost, no great loyalty. It’s entertainment on your terms.

But then there are things that aren’t like that at all. For me, that’s going down to Wales with my dad to watch the rugby. That takes planning — booking the tickets well in advance, sorting out the travel, finding somewhere to park, even working out where we’ll stop for food. And of course, getting the shirts (from last season, when they’re reduced — we’re not made of money!). It costs time, energy, money — but it’s worth it. Because that’s not just casual entertainment. It’s something we’re invested in.

Now here’s the point: following Jesus is not like a streaming subscription. You can’t dip in and out when it suits you, like Netflix or Disney+. Following Jesus is more like those rugby trips — it costs something, it shapes your life, and it requires real loyalty.

And that’s why Jesus says something so shocking in today’s gospel: “Whoever comes to me and does not hate father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters — yes, and even life itself — cannot be my disciple.”

That jars, doesn’t it? It seems completely out of sync with the rest of Scripture. The Ten Commandments tell us to honour our father and mother. Jesus cared for his own mother from the cross. Just a few verses later, he tells the story of the prodigal son — a celebration of a loving father! So why on earth is he telling us to “hate” our families?

And if I’m honest, this is one of those passages I really wrestled with this week. Most weeks I enjoy preaching because I love getting my teeth into a passage and working out how to unpack it. But sometimes I read a text and think: “Lord, what do I do with that?” And this is one of them.

When we hit a difficult passage like this, context is everything. And the first clue is who Jesus is speaking to. Luke tells us he was addressing large crowds. Not just the twelve disciples — crowds. People drawn in by miracles, the buzz, the excitement. And the thing about crowds is, it’s easy to get swept along without thinking. You can find yourself part of something without ever asking, “Am I really in this for the long haul?”

That’s what Jesus is challenging. He’s saying: “If you’re thinking about following me, don’t do it lightly. Count the cost first.” And to make the point, he uses strong, shocking language: hate your family, hate your life, give up your possessions.

Now of course Jesus isn’t literally commanding hatred. The Bible is clear elsewhere that family is a gift, life is a gift, possessions can be gifts. What he’s saying is: “Don’t put these gifts above me.” Because sometimes, discipleship will force you to choose — between loyalty to Jesus and loyalty to family, health, or wealth.

Those are the three big ones he names:

• Family — our closest relationships.

• Life itself — our health and security.

• Possessions — our wealth and comfort.

All good things. But none of them ultimate things.

At first glance, this can make Jesus sound extreme — controlling, even. If he said this today, some would put him on a government watch list. “What kind of leader tells you to put them above family, life, and everything else? Isn’t this the language of extremists and fundamentalists?”

But think about the alternative. What if Jesus said:“You know what, when it comes to your loyalty, I could take it or leave it. I know you’ve all got stuff on, which is cool. If you’re free then let’s do this discipleship thing, but don’t worry too much about it.”

Those aren’t the words of a powerful and authoritative God who passionately desires a relationship with his people. They sound more like a credit card salesman going through the motions because he needs to work his notice.

I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to worship a wet blanket. I want to worship a God who means what he says and says what he means.

So Jesus’ call to be willing to give him everything is not the demand of a control freak. It is the bold statement that he is worth giving everything for.

And history bears it out. Certainly some of Jesus’ original hearers decided he was worth it. The story of the early church is packed full of people willing to die for Jesus. Tertullian, one of the early church fathers, famously said: “The blood of the martyrs is the seed of the Church.”

And that willingness to die for Jesus was not confined to the early church. It has been there throughout history and right up to the present day. In parts of the world today, people really do run the risk of being disowned and ostracised by their families if they choose to follow Jesus. That may well affect their wealth, it may bring them into conflict with the law, and for some it leads even to prison or death.

Here in the West, it may not be so dramatic, but the principle is the same. We do need to be clear about where our priorities lie, because who knows when we will be called upon to make difficult choices.

• It might be a moment of decision: your boss tells you to do something morally wrong if you want to keep your job. What do you do?

• Or it might be a slow drip of decisions: a habit that needs to be kicked, a commitment that needs to be changed, an idol that needs to be put away.

It will look different for each of us, but the point is the same: following Jesus is costly because if he is Lord, he must be number one in our lives — which will inevitably cause tension with the other things vying for that position.

This is a really stark and difficult passage. As one scholar put it: “While there are texts that comfort the disturbed, this one disturbs the comfortable.”

So maybe it is OK to be uncomfortable with this passage and to wrestle with it a bit.

But here’s the encouragement that runs alongside the challenge. Jesus talks about a king weighing up whether or not he can pay the cost of a war. He’s telling us to weigh it up carefully. But don’t forget — Jesus himself is a King who counted the cost. In Gethsemane he wrestled with the price. He knew the cost of going to the cross. And he chose to go anyway. Why? Because we were worth it to him.

And if we were worth the cost to him, then surely he is worth the cost to us.

So maybe the question this passage leaves us with is this: Is following Jesus, for us, like a Netflix subscription — dip in when it suits, cancel when it’s inconvenient? Or is it more like that rugby trip — costly, planned, something that requires loyalty and shapes your life?

The gospel makes it clear: Jesus isn’t a subscription. He’s the Saviour who paid the ultimate cost. And he calls us to follow him with everything.