Sermon: Trading in Our T-shirts

Trading in Our T-shirts
Luke 14:25-33
James Sledge                                                                                     September 4, 2022

Some of you may know that I’m a pretty serious runner. Serious is not the same as good, but suffice to say that I run a lot. I’ve been a runner off and on for over 40 years, and during that time I’ve run a slew of races, 5ks, 10ks, half-marathons, and full marathons.

If you’ve ever been a runner or been around races, you probably know that you often get a T-shirt. When I ran my first marathon back in the 1980s, I proudly wore my Charlotte Observer Marathon shirt until it finally became so torn and ratty that my wife made me throw it away. 

If I’m out someplace and see someone else wearing a T-shirt from a race I’ve run, I will often go up to him or her and say something like, “I see you ran the Richmond Marathon. How’d you do?” Sometimes this leads to a nice discussion about the race and layout of the course, a particularly difficult hill, and so on. We talk about how we did and how we hope to do in an upcoming race.

But sometimes when I’ve spoken to someone with a race T-shirt it doesn’t go like this at all. Sometimes the person will say to me, “Oh, I never actually ran in the race. I just liked the T-shirt and found a way to get one.

It always struck me as a little odd that people would want to wear T-shirts from a race they never ran, but clearly some people do. I wonder why they want to be associated with the race without actually running it. 

Many years ago, at one particularly large 10K race in Atlanta, I encountered a slightly different version of people who wanted a T-shirt, but who weren’t interested in really becoming a runner. The Peachtree Road Race had over 25,000 runners – I hear it’s even bigger now – and it would take close to ten minutes for the people at the back to reach the starting line once the gun went off, even though the race was spread over all six lanes of a major road. 

This race was a big event each summer in Atlanta, and large crowds came to see it and be part of the festivities after it. But this race did their T-shirts differently. You had to finish the race in under a certain time to get a T-shirt. You had to earn it. But to make it fair, they didn’t start the T-shirt clock until after the last runner actually crossed the start line.

I bet some of you can already guess what happened. The runners were supposedly seeded according to previous race times, but people who couldn’t really run, who had trained little or not at all, would sneak up near the very front of the pack, hoping that the nearly 10 minute head start on the T-shirt clock would be enough to get them one. They made the first mile or two of the race miserable for everyone else, causing human traffic jams as hundreds of them wheezed and slowed to a walk after as little as a mile into a six mile race.

Once again I wondered why these people wanted a race T-shirt when they weren’t really runners. Maybe they wanted to be associated with something they saw as popular, healthy, a significant accomplishment, or something of that sort. I’m not entirely sure.

But I do know that this sort of behavior happens with things other than running races. People often appear to be associated with things they’re really not. Growing up in North Carolina, I knew people who were rabid UNC fans even though they had never attended school there, even though they had been to a different college. And they had T-shirts, sweatshirts, hats, umbrellas, and more in UNC colors with UNC logos.

I don’t suppose there’s anything unusual about this. No doubt people do the same thing with UVA or Virginia Tech. And thousands of people wear the logos of school and professional sports teams that they’ve never gotten any closer to than the TV. 

Not that there’s anything wrong with any of this, but it does point out an interesting human tendency. People like to affiliate with things that they don’t have much actual connection to themselves. I suppose that’s a good thing for sports teams because spectator sports depend on this.

When we see someone with a Washington Commanders football jersey on, we don’t assume that they play for the team. We assume that they are a fan. And there’s no expectation that you played for the team, or played football anywhere, in order to be a fan. Just watch them on TV or attend a few games and buy some overpriced food and drink, or spend a little money on licensed team souvenirs and clothing.

Again, no problem with that. The problem is that people carry this same pattern into their relationship with God. This is the problem Jesus addresses in our reading today. Just like sports teams and superstar players, Jesus attracted a large following. Spectators crowded around, wondering what he might do next, hoping to see another miracle, waiting to hear him tell another catchy parable, delighting when he put his opponents to shame.

You might say that these folks were Jesus’ fans. But just like modern sports fans, that didn’t mean that they had any interest in playing the game themselves. The crowds were intrigued and amazed by Jesus, but that didn’t mean they were going to copy his ways. And so Jesus turns to these fans and challenges them. “You can’t be my follower, my disciple, just because you’re a fan,” says Jesus. You’re not my follower just because you’ve bought the T-shirt, or wear a cross around your neck, or have a Bible in your home. You have to love me more than anything else, even family, even your own life. You must be willing to give up everything.”

At first, Jesus’ words may seem a bit harsh, but he is actually doing the crowd, and us, a favor. He says that he wants us as disciples. He wants us to join the company of Peter and James and John, but he also wants us to know just what we’re getting into. There are costs involved, because Jesus is not looking for fans, he is looking for players. Jesus isn’t looking for T-shirt wearers, he is looking for workers. He’s looking for disciples.

The invitation to become disciples is extended to everyone. Jesus asks all of us to join him. You needn’t be especially gifted. You needn’t have an extensive church background. It doesn’t matter what you’ve done in the past. You don’t have to be good enough or smart enough or any other sort of enough. There are no prerequisites.

No matter who you are, Jesus calls to you and says, Follow me. He invites you to be part of his ministry. He invites you into an close relationship with him. He invites you to become part of his family. He invites you to discover new and eternal life. But he also tells us up front. You must change to become his disciple. 

It is a whole different way of living from anything you’ve ever experienced, says Jesus. It is more wonderful, more fulfilling, more blessed than any other way of life, but it is a new way, a way that will seem strange at first, a way that is at odds with the ways we’re used to living. And it is not an option. It is simply part of being a disciple.

Sometimes we forget that being Jesus’ disciples is nothing like being a fan. Sometime we act like we are Christians if we wear the T-shirt, go to a few games, and give a few bucks to the alumni association. But Jesus says otherwise. And we are reminded of this any time someone joins the church or is baptized.

Any time someone makes a profession of faith or brings a child for baptism they answer this question. “Will you be Christ’s faithful disciple, obeying his Word and showing his love?” I’ve never heard anyone answer, “No,” but Jesus reminds us to think twice. Have you really thought about this? Have you really considered the cost? Are you ready to trade in your T-shirt and become a player? Are you ready to stop being one of Jesus’ fans and become one of his disciples.

Jesus is calling to each of us, saying, “Come, follow me. Come, join Peter and James and John and all the others. Come, sit at my feet and learn from me. Come, and discover the joy and fulfilment of being part of my world changing work.  Come. I don’t need you as a fan. I need you, and I want you, as my disciple.”