And the slave said, ‘Sir, what you ordered has been done, and there is still room.’ Then the master said to the slave, ‘Go out into the roads and lanes and compel people to come in, so that my house may be filled. For I tell you, none of those who were invited will taste my dinner.’ Now large crowds were traveling with him; and he turned and said to them, ‘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. Whoever does not carry the cross and follow me cannot be my disciple. For which of you, intending to build a tower, does not first sit down and estimate the cost, to see whether he has enough to complete it?

Deeper Dive
This passage is one of the more challenging teachings of Jesus, where He underscores the cost of discipleship. “Hate” in this context is understood not in its emotional sense but as a prioritisation of allegiance. Jesus uses hyperbolic language to make clear the paramount loyalty His followers must have. Here, the notion of carrying one’s cross signifies embracing the difficulties and sacrifices that come with true discipleship. It invites a deep reflection on commitment levels expected from them, which may include prioritising faith over familial and personal attachments. Jesus demands ultimate allegiance above family, possessions, or life itself. Following Christ involves sacrifice, suffering, and potentially rejection. Enthusiasm without endurance is inadequate; true discipleship counts the cost. Both parables in Luke 14: 25-33 highlight public outcomes—ridicule for unfinished projects, defeat for unprepared kings.

So how do we perceive this passage today? God’s kingdom is radically inclusive — no one is too far gone. But discipleship is radically demanding — it costs us everything. Following Jesus is not about convenience but commitment. We are called to live as a distinctive witness in a world that often resists Christ’s values. It reminds us that the invitation of the gospel is wide, but the path of discipleship is narrow. Anyone may come, but those who do must follow with undivided loyalty, counting the cost, and living as distinctive, “salty” witnesses in the world.

“I pray that the sharing of your faith may become effective when you perceive all the good that we may do for Christ. I have indeed received much joy and encouragement from your love, because the hearts of the saints have been refreshed through you, my brother. For this reason, though I am bold enough in Christ to command you to do your duty, yet I would rather appeal to you on the basis of love—and I, Paul, do this as an old man, and now also as a prisoner of Christ Jesus. I am appealing to you for my child, Onesimus, whose father I have become during my imprisonment. I am sending him, that is, my own heart, back to you.”

Deeper Dive Paul writes to Philemon regarding Onesimus, a slave who has become a Christian. This is a personal letter from Paul to Philemon, a Christian in Colossae, likely a wealthy householder who hosted a church. Onesimus was Philemon’s slave who had run away, somehow met Paul (probably in prison), and became a Christian through Paul’s ministry. Paul writes to reconcile Philemon and Onesimus, urging Philemon to receive Onesimus back not merely as a slave but as a beloved brother in Christ. Paul could have commanded Philemon, as an apostle, to do what is right. Instead, he appeals out of love. He sets the tone: Christian relationships are not built on coercion but on mutual love. This displays the Christian ethos of reconciliation and the transformative power of faith. Paul’s affectionate language indicates the deep bond formed within the Christian community, suggesting a re-evaluation of societal norms such as slavery.

Today, we can see this passage as a true spiritual authority persuaded by love, not coercion. No matter one’s past, conversion makes us “useful” in God’s kingdom. Christians are called to mend broken relationships, seeing others through Christ’s work rather than worldly categories.

Send her forth from the holy heavens, and from the throne of your glory send her, that she labour at my side, and that I may learn what is pleasing to you.
For she knows and understands all things, and she will guide me wisely in my actions and guard me with her glory.
Then my works will be acceptable, and I shall judge your people justly, and shall be worthy of the throne of my father.
For who can learn the counsel of God? Or who can discern what the Lord wills?
For the reasoning of mortals is worthless, and our designs are likely to fail, for a perishable body weighs down the soul, and this tent burdens the thoughtful mind.
We can hardly guess at what is on earth, and what is at hand we find with labour;
but who has traced out what is in the heavens?
Who has learned your counsel, unless you have given wisdom and sent your holy spirit from on high?
And thus the paths of those on earth were set right, and people were taught what pleases you,
and were saved by wisdom.’

Deeper Dive
This passage highlights the inherent limitations of human reasoning and understanding, especially concerning divine knowledge. It is underscored that without receiving wisdom from God, represented metaphorically as a feminine figure, people struggle to comprehend divine will and the mysteries of heaven—emphasising the necessity of divine instruction. The verses intensively comment on the transcendental aspect of God’s counsel, hinting at the separation between human effort and divine illumination, with wisdom acting as an essential mediator between heaven and earth. The text underscores a dualistic view between the physical and the spiritual, portraying the perishable body as a weight upon the soul and mind. This metaphor signifies the struggle between earthly experiences and spiritual aspirations. In this framework, the commentary symbolises human frailty and the constraints it imposes on understanding divine matters, making it evident that only through the gift of divine wisdom can one’s true spiritual path be realised.

Today, it is a salient reminder that human knowledge, while valuable, is finite and fallible. Like Solomon, we must actively seek God’s wisdom to live faithfully. Discernment of God’s will is a spiritual gift, not just human calculation. Our lives are set right not by self-sufficiency, but by God’s revealed wisdom.

Now large crowds were traveling with him; and he turned and said to them, ‘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. Whoever does not carry the cross and follow me cannot be my disciple. For which of you, intending to build a tower, does not first sit down and estimate the cost, to see whether he has enough to complete it? Otherwise, when he has laid a foundation and is not able to finish, all who see it will begin to ridicule him, saying, “This fellow began to build and was not able to finish.” Or what king, going out to wage war against another king, will not sit down first and consider whether he is able with ten thousand to oppose the one who comes against him with twenty thousand?

Deeper Dive
Jesus is on his journey to Jerusalem. Crowds follow him out of curiosity, seeking miracles or national hopes. Jesus deliberately challenges the crowd’s enthusiasm. He isn’t recruiting numbers; he is refining commitment. The illustration of constructing a tower highlights the necessity of planning and assessing one’s capabilities before embarking on significant commitments. Jesus applies this practical wisdom to discipleship. Those who desire to follow Him must anticipate potential sacrifices, much like a builder prepares resources to ensure the completion of construction. A man begins a building project without calculating expenses. If he cannot finish, everyone mocks him. In an honour/shame society, failure was not private—it became communal ridicule. Discipleship is not a casual decision. Beginning without perseverance leads to disgrace. The tower metaphor serves both as practical advice and as a call to long-term commitment, emphasising erosion of faith in half-hearted discipleship.