Captivated

Now great crowds accompanied him, and he turned and said to them, "If anyone comes to me and does not hate his own father and mother and wife and children and brothers and sisters, yes, and even his own life, he cannot be my disciple. Whoever does not bear his own cross and come after me cannot be my disciple…”

Luke 14:25-27

The hard truths of God’s Word are often illuminated and softened by the hard times in life. Beautiful relevance is bestowed through difficult experience.

So many times I read these verses and wondered what in the world Jesus met when He said I must hate my parents and brothers to be His disciple, when He also called me to love them. How is it even possible? To hate and love? Then I heard a pastor explain it in this way: Christ is so beautiful and captivating in the eyes of His disciple that all his other affections pale in comparison –so that even in loving them well, they seem hated in contrast to the disciple’s devotion to Christ. Many missionaries bore this truth as they grieved more than one death of a child on the mission field. They loved their sweet children dearly, to be sure, but they found Christ infinitely worthy of risking, and losing, their beloveds’ lives for His love to be proclaimed to some remote tribe in Kenya. Even today, believers in China, Turkey, Vietnam, choose to follow Christ, knowing full well persecution of their loved ones will likely be a direct result of that decision. Christians across the globe, across time, choose the glory of Christ over the safety, comfort, lives, of those they love most on this earth. And the world blindly calls it hate.

It sort of made sense for missionaries in unreached lands and believers in hostile countries. I mean, isn’t that kind of in their job description? But I never really knew how it worked for a farm-girl-turned-teacher in Northwest Kansas. I didn’t fully grasp how it’s in my job description, too. Until recently…

I won’t pretend that my situation is remotely close to cradling your baby girl in your arms as she dies, or holding your spouse’s gaze as he is shot, or feeling your friend’s hand slip from your fingers as she is taken to prison. But I also won’t feign comfort in loss. I know the agony of choosing to love Christ and His Word when it will dim your love for another to a perceived shade of hate. I know the anguish of that temporal minute, day, month, year, when your heart is achingly pressed in the knowledge of causing another pain. There is no skirting the issue: it hurts. A lot.

So, how does one take that plunge? And why? The answer is simple: Christ did.

Have this mind among yourselves, which is yours in Christ Jesus, who, though he was in the form of God, did not count equality with God a thing to be grasped, but made himself nothing, taking the form of a servant, being born in the likeness of men. And being found in human form, he humbled himself by becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross.

Philippians 2:5-8

For a sinner such as I, Christ dethroned Himself from greatness and grandeur and took the form of a vulnerable infant, needing someone to care for His basic needs. He lived most of His life as a regular guy. Then one day, the contrast amplified: instead of being hailed in heaven, He was beaten on earth. Spit fell on His ears instead of praise. Mockery was spoken instead of adulation. Thorns were placed on His head instead of gold. And the King of Kings, who “upholds the universe by the word of his power,” allowed Himself to be nailed to a cross and crucified. As the old hymn rings, “Jesus paid it all, all to Him I owe. Sin had left a guilty stain. He washed it white as snow.” By His wounds, I am healed. In His resurrection, I have hope.

The logistics of reaching such a conclusion are simple: I could not give Him up. I could not choose securing the love of another over holding fast the eternal Love which is mine in Christ Jesus. Whenever I even began to contemplate the grand alternative (and it was grand), my mind couldn’t get past Him. Jesus, my Love in relational duress. The Lord, my Provider in financial hardships. The Word, my Refuge in overwhelming emotional tumult. My God, the Known in all my unknowns. My Truth. My Life. In every storm and trial and pain, Christ alone was my Rock. And it wasn’t because I did a good job trusting Him but because He is steadfastness. One cannot just walk away from that kind of constancy. One cannot turn her back on Him who is called Faithful and True. One cannot doubt the blessed promises of Him who has proven Himself over and over and over again.

No, don’t be confused. Such a heavy choice was not possible by my own abilities. I love only because He first loved me. By mercy, I am humbly, gratefully, captivated.