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First, Let Me
Sunday, June 28, 2026 — Proper 8, Year C
By Shawn P. Cosner, J.D.
Open with me to Luke chapter nine, verse fifty-one.
"And it came to pass, when the time was come that he should be received up, he stedfastly set his face to go to Jerusalem." — Luke 9:51 (KJV)
I want you to feel the weight of that one phrase. He STEDFASTLY set his face. The King James English is doing real work here. Set his face. Like a man who has decided. Like a man who knows what is at the other end of the road. Jerusalem is where it ends. Jerusalem is where he is killed. Jesus knows this. Jesus does not flinch. Jesus turns his body toward the suffering and starts walking.
That is the posture of the kingdom. Steadfastly set toward what you know is hard.
And the very next thing that happens is three people show up who want to come along.
Listen to what they say. And listen to what Jesus says back. Because what Jesus says is harder than anything you have heard in church in a long time.
The first man comes up: "I will follow thee whithersoever thou goest." All-in language. Beautiful language. The kind of language we love hearing in worship songs.
Jesus does not say thank you. Jesus does not pull him in for a hug. Jesus says this:
"Foxes have holes, and birds of the air have nests; but the Son of man hath not where to lay his head." — Luke 9:58 (KJV)
Translated: do you understand what you just signed up for? A fox has a place to sleep tonight. A bird has a nest. I have nothing. Are you sure you want to come?
The second man is approached by Jesus directly. Jesus says, follow me. The man says, "Suffer me first to go and bury my father."
Now we have to be honest about what that probably means. The plain reading is that the man's father had just died. Many scholars, though, argue that in that culture "let me bury my father" was an idiom for waiting until the father eventually died, the inheritance was settled, and the family obligations were free and clear. Could be five years. Could be twenty. Could be never. Either reading lands the same blow.
Jesus's response: "Let the dead bury their dead: but go thou and preach the kingdom of God."
Hard. Brutal. The kingdom does not wait for your obligations to resolve themselves first.
The third man comes up: "Lord, I will follow thee; but let me first go bid them farewell, which are at home at my house."
This one sounds the most reasonable. He just wants to say goodbye to his family. What is wrong with that? Even Elisha asked Elijah for that, two verses back in the lectionary reading from First Kings. Why does Jesus shut this man down?
Listen.
"No man, having put his hand to the plough, and looking back, is fit for the kingdom of God." — Luke 9:62 (KJV)
The plough.
In Galilee, ploughing was done with two oxen and a single small wooden plough. The plough had no wheels. It had one handle. The farmer held the handle in one hand and a goad stick in the other. To make a straight furrow, the farmer had to keep his eyes locked on a point at the far end of the field. The minute he looked back, the plough drifted. The furrow went crooked. The harvest that grew up in that crooked row was a smaller harvest. Less food for the village. Less wheat for the winter.
Jesus is saying: when you are doing the work of the kingdom, looking back ruins the harvest. Not just your harvest. Everybody's.
I want you to sit with this for a minute. Because I do not think this sermon is about three men two thousand years ago. I think this sermon is about you, right now, today.
Here is the hard turn. And I am going to look you in the eye for this one.
What is your "first let me"?
You know what it is. There is something the Lord has been calling you to do. You know what it is. You have known what it is for months. Maybe years. And every time the call has gotten louder, you have answered with a "first let me."
First let me get the job nailed down.
First let me lose the weight.
First let me save up enough money to feel secure.
First let me have the conversation with my spouse.
First let me read one more book on it.
First let me wait for the kids to graduate.
First let me get my own anxiety under control before I go help anyone else.
First let me wait until my parents pass.
First let me wait until I feel ready.
First let me wait until I am sure.
I know your list. You know your list.
The honest thing about the list is that the "first" never comes. Or if it does come, you replace it with the next first. The "first let me" is not a preparation. It is a hedge. It is a way of saying yes to the Lord with your mouth and no with your feet at the same time.
The kingdom does not wait for hedges.
I am not telling you to quit your job tomorrow. I am not telling you to abandon your family. I am not telling you that hard preparations do not matter. They do. But there is a difference between actual preparation and the hedge that wears the clothes of preparation. You know the difference. The Lord knows the difference. Your spouse probably knows the difference too.
Here is what setting your face actually looks like.
Setting your face means you start the work this week, even if the work this week is small. You make the phone call you have been putting off. You write the first paragraph of the book. You pour the first foundation. You stop the one habit. You tell one person about the thing. You spend one Saturday actually doing the work instead of researching the work.
The plough has been here the whole time. You have been standing next to it. The kingdom is asking you to put your hand on it. And then to keep your eyes forward.
Look at the harvest at the end of the field, not the village at your back.
Cross over. Whithersoever.
Amen.
No man, having put his hand to the plough, and looking back, is fit for the kingdom of God.
Lord, give me the courage to set my face toward what you are calling me to do. Forgive me for hiding behind preparations and "first let me" excuses that have started to feel reasonable but were always delays. Take my hand and put it on the plough. Hold my shoulders forward when I want to look back. Let me start the work today. Not after my circumstances are perfect. Not after I feel ready. Today. With my hands dirty. Amen.
What is the "first let me" that has been keeping you from the work you know the Lord is calling you to?
The charge committed to you for the week ahead. Carry it through. Return Sunday.
This week the charge is the "first let me" that has been sitting in front of your calling. The conversation you want to have first. The job you want to nail down first. The money you want to save first. The book you want to read first. The version of yourself you want to be first. Your charge this week is to name it out loud. What is it. And then start the work you have been delaying anyway. Not next month. Not after the thing wraps up. This week. The plough does not cut straight when you are looking over your shoulder.
Each night this week, before you fall asleep, with your evening prayer or as you lay in bed, take five quiet minutes. Focus only on THAT day. Not yesterday. Not tomorrow. Bring the charge into your prayer. Ask: where did I keep it? Where did I miss it? Confess what is honest. Receive what is mercy. Then rest.
On Saturday night, before sleep, judge yourself as you would be judged. Look back across the seven nights. Did you pass the test? Or did the same failing return, day after day, with no change? This is not a place to feel horrible. This is a place to recognize what is real. The Lord knows already. The work is not perfection. The work is RECOGNITION. See where you stand. See where mercy was given. Then bring it all into Sunday. Not as shame, but as the thing that was committed unto thee. Kept, or to be kept again.
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