“Whoever wants to be my disciple must deny themselves and take up their cross daily and follow me.”
Jesus Christ
“No pain, no palm; no thorns, no throne; no gall, no glory; no cross, no crown.” William Penn
A few times a year I venture out to Marfa, Texas, a funky little arts town in the middle of the desert. I’m one of the owners of a live music venue called “Padre’s” – you know, like a priest might name a bar. When I’m there, because I’m kind of a “big deal”, I am assigned the following tasks: clean the toilets, pick up cigarette butts from the outdoor patio, pull weeds, wash dishes, and work the door. The most depressing of those tasks? Working the door. It is at the door where I come to realize what cheapskates often inhabit God’s abundant earth.
At the door I am entrusted with the task of taking the cover charge for whatever hard-working band is playing that night. Live music, by the way, like writing books, is a labor of love – you typically LOSE money on such enterprises. I am astounded by other’s incredulity when I let them know that there is a fee to enter in, that it will cost them something – all of which goes to the band at Padre’s. I have seen people turn around and head to the Town and Country Convenience store to buy a six pack of beer and drink it in the parking lot, rather than shell out six bucks for an amazing night of music, performed by incredibly talented artists, who pour their heart and soul into a performance that would be worth ten times that amount. I feel sorry for those who won’t pay the price. They’re not saving money – and they’re not saving themselves. And they miss out on a moment that sometimes transports the listener right into the realm of the divine presence – the gift of music has that power.
This refusal to pay the cover is reflective of the present state of religion and spirituality in the world. It’s nothing new, but it’s very real. Those who won’t pay face a much steeper price – missing out on the abundant life that comes from the gift of self-sacrifice. You see this in the church every Holy Week. The throngs pack the church for Easter. Resurrection, new life, rabbits, mimosas, bells, brass and flowers – I love all the images of Easter myself. And I longingly look forward to it. But on the Sunday of the Passion when Jesus finds himself abandoned and rejected, on Maundy Thursday when he anticipates the pain of what will follow, on Good Friday when he is nailed to a cross – well, the crowds are much smaller. You see, the cover charge is a lot steeper on those nights. Some people think if they don’t pay it, they have somehow escaped the difficult parts and places that one must experience and inhabit when one is following Jesus. Of course, the sad reality is that they miss out on the most profound components of the spiritual experience – for there can be no resurrection without crucifixion, and there can be no new life without death.
During Holy Week I am often drawn to the writings of Dietrich Bonheoffer. He was hanged in a Nazi concentration camp in April of 1945 because he publically challenged Hitler and spoke out against injustice in his native Germany. He lost his life just a few weeks before the allied liberation of that camp. In his book “The Cost of Discipleship” he speaks about the difference between cheap grace and costly grace: “Cheap grace is the preaching of forgiveness without requiring repentance, baptism without discipline, communion without confession. Cheap grace is grace without discipleship, grace without the cross, grace without Jesus Christ, living and incarnate.” But costly grace is what Jesus offers us, according to Bonheoffer: “It is the treasure hidden in the field, the pearl of great price, the gospel which must be sought, the gift which must be asked for. Such grace is costly because it costs a man his life, and it is grace because it gives a man the only true life. It is costly because it cost God the life of his Son, and it is grace because God did not reckon his Son too dear a price to pay for our life.”
Just before we read the Passion of Christ on Palm Sunday, we sometimes sing the hymn “O How He Loves You and Me.” One of the lines reminds us: “He gave his life, what more could he give.” Even now, 2000 years later, He stands at the door. The cover is steep. The price has been paid.
It is free. But it is not cheap……
