And great crowds went with him; and, turning round, he said to them,
Luke 14 has just closed with the parable of the great supper, where a host fills his house with guests who never expected an invitation. Now the crowd swells around Him. He does something unexpected: instead of welcoming the numbers, He turns and tests them.
This crowd is not accidental. It gathered because of what the Lord had just said about a table spread for anyone who would come.
A message of free blessing draws a crowd, and our own hearts explain why.
The natural heart likes the sound of this: "great crowds accompanied Him." We can understand that, because we know something of our own hearts. But this had to be tested. Did they know who they were following? Did they understand the path He was walking here? He was not yet the Reigning One, surrounded by the splendour and glory of the kingdom. All of that will be seen in its day. For now, men despised and rejected Him.
Most people would count a large following a success. The Lord did not, because the crowd was giving Him the wrong place.
The crowd follows Him. But this will not do. It happened every day. Thousands were around Him all the time, crowding and pressing Him along the streets and roads. That does not reach the heart of Christ. Neither does this move by the crowd, because it does not express any felt need of Him as a Saviour. Instead, they are taking Him as a Teacher or an Example. And that, as the first thing, will not do. So He turns to this crowd with words of solemn warning.
There was also a flattering thought the Lord refused to leave standing.
They might have thought that at any rate they would treat the Lord better than His message — so little does man know of himself. The Lord would not let the crowd then following Him flatter themselves. They imagined that they at least were willing to share in the supper, and that they could never treat God with the contempt described in the parable. So the Lord tells them what following Him involves.
The problem was not their eagerness, but what they did not know.
They followed Him as an easy thing, interested and attracted, but not knowing where He was going or where it led them. He tells them plainly: You cannot follow Me without sacrificing all, life and all.
This is why the hard words come at the start of the road.
I tremble when I see people set out claiming to follow Christ without counting the cost. It is God's way to put the barrier right at the start. If you can jump that, you will do. Obedience to rules will not last; following Christ will. If He is in the path, it is happy and easy — but it is a narrow path, hedged in on both sides. If Christ is not with you there, you will find nothing but trouble and difficulty.
Many read what follows as a price tag on heaven. The Lord's repeated phrase rules that out.
Those four closing words come three times over (vv. 26, 27, and 33). Note it well: not "he cannot be saved," but "he cannot be My DISCIPLE."
The chapter itself sets the two things side by side in order.
In Luke 14 there are two "F's," feasting and following. "A man once gave a great banquet and invited many." He brings them there to feast. They eat until they are satisfied. Now they come out to follow. We go in to feast, and come out to follow. In the feast, He meets all the cost. He provides everything. They only have to come and share in what He provides.
The order matters, and it cannot be reversed.
There can be no discipleship until we understand this fully. Trying to follow Christ before we know grace is mere legalism, and it displeases Him. We must know Him as a giver before we can speak of giving up anything for His sake. He gives all, He asks no payment, He does not ask us to give anything up. This is grace.
Where that order is reversed, the demands of the road look impossible.
It costs to be a disciple, but it does not cost too much! The fact is, our gloomy-looking friend was not saved, he had never tasted grace, and therefore had nothing to spend. When a man goes to market with no money in his pocket everything costs too much!
- Feast first. The supper of grace comes first. He pays everything at the table. Only then does He call anyone to walk with Him.
- Follow second. The crowd had just heard about free grace. Then the Lord turned and told them what following Him involves.
- Turned, not welcomed. Crowds pressing around Him were an everyday thing. That did not reach His heart. They took Him as a Teacher or Example, not as Saviour.
- Cost, not entry fee. The repeated phrase is "cannot be My disciple," not "cannot be saved." It tests how real we are; it does not put a price on salvation.
- Barrier at the start. God places the hard words at the beginning of the road on purpose, so no one sets out ignorant of where Christ is going.
If any man come to me, and shall not hate his own father and mother, and wife, and children, and brothers, and sisters, yea, and his own life too, he cannot be my disciple;
The words come right after the parable of the great supper, where grace invites anyone who will come. Now the crowds are large, and the Lord tells them what following Him costs — in words that have troubled readers ever since.
The order of the chapter matters. Grace comes first, and only then does the Lord test who is real.
Of all four Gospels, Luke's is the one that emphasises grace. In fact, in Luke 14 the paragraph just before this one contains the parable of the great supper (Luke 14:15-24), a wonderful unfolding of the grace of God. Isn't it worth noticing what comes next? He unfolded divine grace in a way that brought great crowds around Him, eager to listen. Then the Lord turns on them and tests their reality by setting out the terms of discipleship. Shall we not do well to notice the difference between the two, and still keep them together in the order in which He put them?
The word itself has been examined closely, and it is read alongside the parallel saying in Matthew.
Notice that Matthew, the first of our Gospels, softens the language here ("hate"). The word translated "hate" means to renounce the claims or influence of the person or thing concerned (Hahn). Paley takes it as "to be indifferent to." Compare Matthew 10:37, "Whoever loves father or mother more than me is not worthy of me."
This is about how following Christ looks to the family left behind. It is not about cold feelings.
The disciple must follow Christ so plainly and so firmly that other eyes would see it as a complete neglect of natural ties. It would look like indifference to the nearest and strongest family claims. The Lord does not call for a lack of affection. But that is how it might and must look to those left behind in His name. The attractive power of grace must outweigh all natural bonds, and every other claim of any kind, on the person who would be His disciple.
Does this cancel what children owe their parents? Only one situation forces the break.
There is only one case in which the Lord shows the necessity of forsaking father and mother: when the child is commanded to forsake Christ. In every other case it is sin against Him who said long ago, "Honor your father and your mother," and who also said through the apostle, "Children, obey your parents." When father or mother — yes, or wife or life — comes into competition with Christ, then all must be "hated"; the disciple must bear the cross and follow Him. If any of these stand in the way of confessing Christ as Saviour, it is better to be driven from home and disowned by parents than to be without Christ.
The list runs from father to brothers and sisters, and then adds the self. That final clause is where the sentence bites hardest.
The point is that He must have the very first place in the hearts of His own. The time is short. Things here, whatever they may be, must be held with a loose hand. It cuts very close when we read "and his own life also." Paul knew the meaning of this better than anyone. He always carried the sentence of death in his person. How far along are we in such a path? This rises above nature — indeed, it cuts across nature. Are we prepared for it?
Much of the difficulty in the verse dissolves once the exact ending of the sentence is noticed, an ending repeated three times in the paragraph.
Turn to Luke 14 and read the paragraph, Luke 14:25-35. The same thoughts appear again there, and those four closing words — "cannot be my disciple" — come three times over (verses 26, 27 and 33). Notice: not "he cannot be saved," but "he cannot be my disciple."
- Grace first. The Lord unfolds grace before He names a single condition. Discipleship follows grace; it never comes first.
- First place, not less love. "Hate" here means renouncing the claim or influence of a person or thing. Matthew puts it the other way round: no one who loves father or mother more than Christ is worthy of Him.
- Looks like neglect. To those left behind it can look like indifference to family. The Lord does not ask for less affection. He asks for a pull stronger than every natural tie.
- One point of conflict. Ties break at one point only: when someone demands that you give up Christ. Anywhere else, walking out on parents is sin against the God who told us to honour them.
- Then your own life. The list ends with your own life. The sentence ends with "cannot be my disciple" — a word about following, not about salvation.
and whoever does not carry his cross and come after me cannot be my disciple.
Jesus had just told the crowd a parable about a table filled by open invitation. Now He names the cost of following Him, and two questions follow at once: what is this "cross," and does salvation depend on carrying it?
The same four words close this verse and two others nearby. Notice what the Lord did not say:
The same thoughts reappear here: "If anyone comes to Me and does not hate his father, and mother, and wife, and children, and brothers, and sisters, yes, and his own life also, he cannot be My disciple." Those four closing words are repeated three times (vv. 26, 27, and 33). Not, note carefully, "he cannot be saved," but "he cannot be My DISCIPLE."
This demand comes right after a picture of God's open invitation. The order matters:
Of all four Gospels, Luke's is the one that emphasizes grace. In Luke 14 the paragraph just before this one holds the parable of the "great supper" (Luke 14:15-24), a marvellous unfolding of the grace of God. He had unfolded divine grace in a way that brought great crowds around Him, eager to hear. Is it not worth noting, then, that He now turns to them and tests their reality by setting out the terms of discipleship? The two are distinct. And shall we not do well to keep them together in the order in which He put them?
The Lord asked two things: saying "no" to yourself, and taking up a cross. Neither is what people usually assume:
"Self-denial" — denying yourself something — hardly captures the force of "deny himself." What the Lord speaks of is saying "no" to yourself. And "take up his cross" does not mean just bearing trials and troubles. In those days, a man who took up his cross was on his way to execution. He had to accept death at the hands of the world. Saying "no" to yourself is accepting death inside, in your own spirit. Taking up your cross is accepting death from outside, at the hands of the world. That is what discipleship must mean, since we follow the Christ who died, rejected by the world.
Jesus says his cross — the disciple's own. That wording marks off what the disciple bears from what Christ bore:
Every disciple of Christ bears a cross. It is his — the disciple's — cross. Without it he cannot be a disciple, that is, Jesus' disciple (Luke 14:27). It is the reproach of Christ — Christ as reproached by man. Christ did not say, "And whoever does not bear My cross and come after Me cannot be My disciple." That would mean bearing reproach perfectly, and so would call for a perfect walk. But every believer, in his measure, suffers reproach. It is the same character as Christ's, and therefore it is called a cross; but it is his cross and not Christ's.
In everyday speech "cross" now covers any misfortune. Scripture is narrower:
People use the word loosely for every kind of trial and suffering, and even unbelievers use it of themselves. It is clear that, using the language of Scripture, no unbeliever bears a cross. The world loves, not hates, its own (John 15:19). Again we hear of "crosses," meaning bad turns of circumstances. How wrong this is! Every believer bears a cross, but he has only one, and he should bear it "daily," not now and then. That cross is the reproach of Christ. No suffering or reproach counts as a cross unless it flows from man's unjust judgment on what is like Christ in us.
Verse 26 asks for a break with natural claims; verse 27 asks for something that keeps going:
Grace must pull harder on the man who would be His disciple than all natural bonds or any other claims. And more than this: it is a question of carrying one's cross and going after Him. It is not enough to come to Him at first. We must follow Him day by day.
Can anyone meet such terms? Not on his own strength:
The moral of all this is that man is not enough in himself. God alone can enable a man to leave the world for Christ and to keep following after Christ. The worst of all is to renounce Him after bearing such a name — salt that has lost its taste.
- Feast first. Grace fills a table first; only then does Christ state His terms. Keep them in that order and the verse stops sounding like a price tag on salvation.
- Follow second. "Cannot be My disciple" is not "cannot be saved." The verse tests those already drawn to Him.
- Cross means death. Not troubles or bad turns. A man carrying a cross was walking to his death. The disciple follows the Christ the world rejected.
- Yours, not His. He said his cross, not "My cross." What the disciple bears is the reproach that falls on whatever looks like Christ in him.
- Daily, and not alone. Coming once is not enough. Follow day by day — and God alone supplies the strength to keep going.
For which of you, desirous of building a tower, does not first sit down and count the cost, if he have what [is needed] to complete it;
Just before this, Jesus told the parable of a great banquet — a picture of God's grace — and great crowds began to follow Him. He turns around and, instead of welcoming the enthusiasm, asks them to do the arithmetic of a builder.
The order of the chapter matters. The invitation comes first, and only then the terms.
Of all the four Gospels, Luke's is the one which emphasizes grace. In fact, the paragraph just before this one holds the parable of the great banquet (Luke 14:15-24). That parable is a marvellous unfolding of the grace of God. He unfolded grace in a way that brought great crowds around Him, eager to hear. Then the Lord turns on them and tests how real they are: He puts the terms of discipleship to them. Is that not worth noticing? And should we not keep the two together in the order He put them, while still seeing the difference between them?
Being saved and being a disciple are not the same thing. Mix them up, and the cost looks far too high.
It costs to be a disciple, but it does not cost too much! The fact is, our gloomy-looking friend was not saved, he had never tasted grace, and so had nothing to spend. When a man goes to market with no money in his pocket, everything costs too much! He was putting discipleship before grace. That is the same as putting demand before supply, and responsibility before the power that meets it.
A tower's features all belong to Christian discipleship.
A "tower" is a building that stands out and rises high. For that reason it needs to be especially solid. It may be for defence; it may be for overlooking what is around it. Our Christian discipleship should have all these features.
So the real question is whether a person wants a life that is out in the open.
Is a person prepared for all this when he takes a Christian stand? It is far wiser to count the cost of building before beginning. To honestly follow Christ is no light matter. On the other hand, one should count the cost of not following Him. Lazy self-pleasing will always end in tragic disappointment.
The verse says he sits down first. Many never do, and you can see the results.
How many unfinished buildings we see across the wide field of Christian profession! They give onlookers sad reason to mock. How many set out on a path of discipleship under some sudden impulse, or under nothing more than human pressure. They never properly understood or carefully weighed all that it involves. Then difficulties arise. Trials come. The path turns out to be narrow, rough, lonely, unpopular. So they give it up. This proves they had never counted the cost, never taken the path in communion with God, never understood what they were doing.
A careful count ends in a shortfall, not a balance.
If we count the cost on our side, we shall always find it more than we have resources for. Yet we do need to consider the cost. We must look at it long and seriously, until we feel how completely insufficient we are. Then faith takes root in God's almighty power, and finds the ability to stand where God calls.
So the counting is real. But the answer never comes from our own resources.
Yet this is not about gathering resources in a human way. It is about giving up all your own, and so being Christ's disciple. There is such a thing as people beginning well and turning out good for nothing.
The mockery in the next verse falls on the man, but the damage does not stop with him.
Here the Lord guards against the shallow attitude we so easily fall into. The cost must be counted. A breakdown is humbling. It dishonours the Lord. It amounts to saying that He called the soul out into a path where He cannot sustain it. That is how it looks to those who are watching. And people mock the one who fails — "This man began to build and was not able to finish."
- Order — the banquet comes before the tower. God gives grace first, and only then Jesus sets out the terms of following.
- Supply — being saved is one thing, being a disciple another. It costs to be a disciple, but only those who have tasted grace have anything to spend.
- Shape — a tower stands high, shelters, and is seen by all. Discipleship is the same, so it must be built solid.
- Sum — count the cost and it will always beat your own resources. That gap drives faith to rest on God's power.
- Stopping — a half-built tower draws mockery. It makes the Lord look unable to sustain the one He called. So sit down first.
in order that, having laid the foundation of it, and not being able to finish it, all who see it do not begin to mock at him,
Jesus spelled out what following Him really involves, and He pictured it as a building project. A builder sits down first to price the job. This verse shows what happens when he skips that step: he lays a foundation, the money runs out, and onlookers laugh. So what costs so much? And what keeps a person from ending up as that half-built tower?
The warning is aimed at a particular thing. Three times in this passage the Lord names what a person forfeits by not counting the cost, and it is not forgiveness:
In Luke 14:25-35 we read: "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." Those four closing words come three times (vv. 26, 27, and 33). Notice that it does not say "he cannot be saved," but "he cannot be My DISCIPLE."
One man complained that being a Christian costs too much. He had misread the bill:
He meant, "It costs too much to be a disciple." He was wrong. It costs to be a disciple, but it does not cost too much! The fact is, our gloomy-looking friend was not saved. He had never tasted grace, and so he had nothing to spend. When a man goes to market with no money in his pocket, everything costs too much! He was putting discipleship before grace, which is the same as putting demand before supply, and responsibility before the power that meets it.
The Lord did not pick a cottage or a wall. A tower does particular work, and it makes particular demands:
A "tower" is a building that stands out and catches the eye. For that reason it needs special solidity. It may be for defence. It may be for overlooking what is round it. Our Christian discipleship should have all these qualities.
So what does the building take? A foundation, a hand, a posture, and a defence:
"Faith" is the hand that builds. "The faith" — and we find it in the Word of God — is the mighty foundation on which we build. Prayer is the attitude best suited to these building operations. The love of God, consciously known, is our tower of defence.
The watchers in the verse laugh at the builder. But the damage does not stop with him:
The cost must be counted. A man intending to build a tower must count whether he has enough to finish it... It is easy to say, "I am ready to go with you both to prison and to death." A breakdown is humbling. It dishonours the Lord. It amounts to saying that He called the soul out into a path where He cannot sustain it. That is how it looks to those who watch. And the failing one is mocked — "This man began to build and was not able to finish."
Unfinished towers are not rare, and there is a pattern behind them:
How many unfinished buildings we see as we look out over the wide field of Christian profession! They give onlookers sad occasion for mockery. How many set out on a path of discipleship under some sudden impulse, or under nothing more than human pressure, without properly understanding or weighing up all that it involves. Then difficulties arise. Trials come. The path turns out to be narrow, rough, lonely and unpopular — and they give it up. This proves they had never counted the cost, never taken the path in communion with God, never understood what they were doing.
So where does a builder find enough to finish? Not in himself:
The resources are certainly not natural abilities. If we are to continue, Christ must be the object of our devotion — Christ, in whom are the resources for every need that may arise. In other words, let the disciple check himself closely. Is his confidence fully in the One he claims to follow?
The discouragement is deliberate, and it points somewhere:
Adding up the cost may seem to bring nothing but discouragement. That is exactly what it is meant to bring — discouragement of all flippancy and all self-confidence. If you are setting out in either of these moods, you may as well give up at once. But if you are in serious earnest, the Lord's words are meant only to throw you on resources better than your own, resources that are enough for everything.
- Free, then costly. Salvation costs the believer nothing. Discipleship costs — but never too much. And the person who has never tasted grace has nothing to spend.
- Built to be seen. A tower stands out, defends, and overlooks. It needs solidity — so price the job first.
- Built by faith. The Word is the foundation, faith the hand, prayer the posture, the known love of God the defence.
- Mockery reaches higher. When the building stops, watchers conclude that Christ could not sustain the one He called. His name takes the ridicule.
- Counted, then cast. The sum kills flippancy and self-confidence. It throws the earnest builder on resources better than his own.
saying, This man began to build and was not able to finish?
Jesus set two pictures side by side: a man building a tower, and a king going to war. This verse is what onlookers say when the builder never counted the cost.
The builder's project is not a random illustration. One writer reads the tower as a picture of the Christian life itself — visible, and therefore exposed:
The tower stands for Christianity. A tower is a place to watch from, a high place that everyone can see, and a place of defence. Is a person ready for these things when he takes a Christian stand? It is far wiser to count the cost of building before beginning. To honestly follow Christ is no light matter. On the other hand, one should count the cost of not following Him. Lazy self-pleasing will always end in tragic disappointment.
So there are two sums to do, not one. And an unfinished tower is failure with an audience.
This is a common pattern, not a rare disaster. People start under a rush of feeling, or because others pushed them. Trouble later shows what was missing:
Look out over the wide field of Christian profession. How many unfinished buildings meet our eyes! They give onlookers sad occasion for mockery. How many set out on a path of discipleship under some sudden impulse, or under the pressure of mere human influence! They never properly understood or weighed all that is involved. Then difficulties arise, trials come, and they find the path narrow, rough, lonely and unpopular. So they give it up.
The mockery targets the man, but the damage does not stop with him. Onlookers draw a conclusion about the One he claimed to follow:
The cost must be counted. A man intending to build a tower must count whether he has enough to finish it. A breakdown is humbling. The Lord is dishonoured. It is the same as saying that He has called the soul out into a path in which He is not able to sustain it. Such is the appearance to those who observe. And the failing one is mocked — "This man began to build and was not able to finish."
Add up your own resources, and the sum will not work out:
Suppose someone tries to be a disciple in his own strength, by the working of his own will. He would be like a man who begins to build a tower without counting the cost. Or like a king who goes to war with ten thousand men against another king with twenty thousand. The cost of being a disciple is beyond the resources of man.
The next verses turn that admission into the way forward. Give up your own supplies, and the Master's are at your disposal:
If, as verse 33 says, we do indeed forsake all that we have, we shall rest wholly on the resources of the great Master we follow. Then the path of discipleship becomes gloriously possible for us.
Does this parable mean that following Christ costs too much? One writer says no, and points to the order of things:
It costs to be a disciple, but it does not cost too much! The fact is, our gloomy-looking friend was not saved, he had never tasted grace, and therefore had nothing to spend. When a man goes to market with no money in his pocket everything costs too much! He was putting discipleship before grace. That is the same as putting demand before supply, and responsibility before the power that meets it — in everyday language, "putting the cart before the horse."
Years test a building, not the opening day. One writer applies the mockery of this verse to truths that never became real in private with God:
Perhaps you began 25 years ago, perhaps more — well, go on... Time tests us as Christians. It is not the first blush. We get to know things. We gain a knowledge of Christianity. We receive certain truths. But unless they become real in the secret of our souls, that tower will stop building, and all who look on will mock, saying, "This man began to build and was not able to finish."
- Cost. Following Christ is no light matter. Count it before you lay the foundation, not after.
- Cause. Towers stall when they start on impulse or under pressure from others. Trouble then shows the cost was never weighed.
- Supply. Add up your own strength and the sum fails. The cost is beyond human resources, so forsake all and lean on the Master's.
- Order. Grace comes first and supplies what responsibility then demands. Put discipleship before grace, and everything looks too expensive.
- Continuation. A tower is public, so the world watches. Keep building in secret with God, or the mockery in this verse becomes your own.
Or what king, going on his way to engage in war with another king, does not, sitting down first, take counsel whether he is able with ten thousand to meet him coming against him with twenty thousand?
The Lord is speaking to the crowds who were following Him. He has just asked whether a builder would start a tower without first pricing it. Now He moves the picture to a battlefield. A king with half the troops of the one marching toward him must sit down and think first. The crowds are left asking which king they are, and who is coming against them.
Jesus does not soften what following Him involves. One writer sets both pictures side by side. He then follows the weaker king to his last move — sending messengers to ask for terms.
The Lord does not hide the difficulties of the way, but sets them out in two comparisons... The second is like a king going to war against one who has twice as many forces. Unless I am well backed up, it is impossible for me to resist him who comes against me with twice my army. If God is not for us, the result is certain. While the enemy is still a long way off, we have to send messengers and ask for terms of peace. But is that not peace with Satan, and everlasting ruin?
The other army is not a mob. It has a commander, and that is what makes the second picture heavier than the first.
One king is going out to meet another king. And you must indeed be like a king yourself to face the forces that are against you in the world. What is more, these are not just scattered, irregular fighters. They are organised under a king of their own, the dreaded "prince of this world." He holds more than the power of this world in his hand — more than you are likely to be able to meet, however high you rate your own competence. If you come to a reckoning here, everything is against you, and the result of failure is worse than in the first picture... Provoke the hatred of the world against you, and it is an enemy that does not forgive easily.
Counting the cost is not the price of salvation. One writer draws that line first, then lists four conditions of discipleship — and the last two are both sums.
The grace of God imposes no conditions. But the gospel that announces that grace does lead our feet into the path of discipleship, and that path can only be walked rightly as we accept very strict conditions... (3) There must be a counting of the cost when it comes to our resources: a right estimate of all that is ours in the Christ we follow. (4) There must equally be a right estimate of the powers lined up against us.
Sitting down to count looks like a recipe for backing out. The same writer says that impression is only half right.
So the effect of counting may seem to be mere discouragement. And that is just what it is meant to be — discouragement of all light-hearted carelessness and all self-confidence. If you are setting out in either of those moods, you may as well give up at once. But suppose you are in serious earnest. Then the Lord's words are meant only to throw you back on resources better than your own — resources that are completely enough.
Commentators differ on what the plea for peace pictures. One reads it as the deal a person makes when faith is missing.
A king going to war is careful to first weigh the strength of his own forces against the enemy's. Satan is a formidable foe, and he holds sway over the whole world (1 John 5:19). Who can stand against him? The Lord Jesus did, and He overcame the world (John 16:33) with all the power of Satan behind it... If in faith one fully counts on the Lord, he is fully equipped to face the enemy. If a person does not have this faith, he will make peace with the world. That avoids conflict, but in effect it makes him an enemy of God (James 4:4)! Let each one carefully consider the issues!
Another takes the terms of peace the other way — as a hint of mercy tucked inside a warning.
Salvation is no small thing. A person must be ready to give up what is nearest and dearest to nature, instead of trying to build a tower or fight a war he is not ready for. Let him rather seek those conditions of peace that point to the blessed gospel, which always stays close to the most solemn warnings.
- Count. Jesus asks for a sum before you sign up: what is ours in Christ, and what powers are lined up against us.
- Enemy. The other army is twice the size, and it has a king — the prince of this world, stronger than any rating you give your own strength.
- Discouragement. The sum kills off careless talk and self-confidence. It throws the earnest person back on resources that are not his own — and those are enough.
- Terms. To refuse the fight is to ask the enemy for peace. Writers differ on the picture — a truce with the world that makes one God's enemy, or a hint of the gospel's own offer.
- Follow. The one who sits down, faces the odds, and gives up his claim on everything — for him the path opens.
and if not, while he is yet far off, having sent an embassy, he asks for terms of peace.
Jesus turns to the large crowds walking with Him and gives two pictures: a builder pricing a tower, and a king counting his troops. This verse closes the second picture, where the weaker king asks for terms of peace — but peace with whom?
The picture closes a list of conditions the Lord sets before anyone who wants to follow Him.
When they heard things like this, great crowds went with Him. Many people like to hear of something they can have for nothing. The Lord turned, and set out for them the conditions of discipleship. The grace of God lays down no conditions. But the Gospel that announces that grace does lead our feet into the path of discipleship, and that path can only be walked rightly as we accept very strict conditions. Four are named here... (3) There must be a counting of the cost as to our resources: a right estimate of all that is ours in the Christ we follow. (4) There must just as truly be a right estimate of the powers lined up against us.
The other king is not a vague difficulty. One writer names the king behind those forces.
A king is going out to meet another king. You too must be like a king to face the forces that are against you in the world. And these are not just loose bands of raiders. They are an organised army under a king of their own — the dreaded "prince of this world." He holds more than the power of this world in his hand, and he is more than you are likely to be able to meet, however highly you rate your own ability.
Older translations call this delegation an "ambassage." Here is what such a group included:
Simply the people sent as ambassadors, with their attendants, and usually with gifts.
The Greek word behind "asks" here is erotao. One writer sets it beside aiteo, another word for asking.
erotao carries a certain equality or closeness between the two people it is used of, as of king with king (Luke 14:32). The Lord uses this word of His own asking of the Father (John 14:16; John 16:26; John 17:9, 15, 20) — never aiteo.
Sending that delegation looks like good sense. But one writer asks what such a peace really costs.
Unless I have strong backing, I cannot resist a man who comes against me with twice my forces. Still less can I make headway against him. If God is not for us, the result is certain. While the enemy is still far off, we have to send a delegation and ask for terms of peace. But is that not peace with Satan, and everlasting ruin?
Counting wrongly can fail in two ways, and fear is one of them.
If we do not count rightly in either direction, we shall very likely go beyond our measure on the one hand, or grow afraid and compromise with the enemy on the other. If we really do give up all that we have, as verse 33 says, we shall depend wholly on the resources of the great Master we follow. Then the path of discipleship becomes gloriously possible for us.
There is a right kind of retreat. One writer defends the man who admits he is beaten — and then points past him to someone stronger.
I do not call it bravery to enter a fight when a man knows he must lose. It is folly. "Discretion is the better part of valour." If you know you cannot beat the enemy, it is better to leave him to another who can... So the wise man will say, "I cannot meet this power."
The sum is meant to discourage. What that discouragement does depends on the spirit you bring to it.
So the effect of counting the cost may seem to be nothing but discouragement. And that is what it is meant to be: it discourages all light-heartedness and all self-confidence. If you are setting out in either of these moods, you may as well give up at once. But if you are in earnest, the Lord's words are meant only to throw you on resources better than your own — resources that are fully enough.
- Reckon. The verse closes a call to count the cost — weighing both what is ours in Christ and the strength lined up against us.
- Enemy. The other army serves a king of its own, the prince of this world. No disciple can meet him alone.
- Terms. The delegation pictures a follower who does not have God behind him. One writer asks whether such a treaty is peace with Satan and everlasting ruin.
- Compromise. A wrong count either goes beyond our measure or grows afraid and settles with the enemy. Giving up all we have is what makes the path possible.
- Resources. The discouragement is deliberate. It kills flippancy and self-confidence, so that the earnest lean on strength greater than their own and leave the fight to Another who can win it.
Thus then every one of you who forsakes not all that is his own cannot be my disciple.
Luke 14 has just told of a great supper where the invitation costs the guest nothing. Then comes the test: three times the Lord says "cannot be my disciple," and this last one reaches everything a person owns.
Notice the exact wording of that repeated phrase:
The Lord repeats those four closing words three times (vv. 26, 27, and 33). Notice: not "he cannot be saved," but "he cannot be My disciple."
The two can come apart, in both directions:
Discipleship and salvation do not run in parallel lines. The Lord in Luke does not say, Any one of you who does not renounce all that he has cannot be saved — though only the true disciple knows the full joy of salvation. There may be people who are justified at the cross but who can barely be called followers and hearers of the Lord Jesus. On the other hand, John 6 shows that there were disciples who were not saved: "After this many of his disciples turned back and no longer walked with him."
Some read the verse as a price for God's favour. Scripture's own way of speaking says otherwise:
A man like Luther may speak of "buying" the riches of free grace, and so, no doubt, does Scripture; but it never speaks of selling all that one has to do it. God says instead, "Come, buy wine and milk without money and without price." And the Lord does indeed say, "Any one of you who does not renounce all that he has cannot be my disciple" (Luke 14:33). But He has taught us elsewhere how to understand all such expressions. The would-be disciple does not "buy" the grace of God by this. He must receive that grace first, and it is that grace which makes such whole-hearted discipleship possible... Love must be the motive power, or there is nothing that can count.
Older translations read "forsakes" where the ESV has "renounce." The word describes what happens to the heart's grip on things. It does not always mean an empty cupboard:
We "forsake …" that is, the affections are severed from our possessions; they are no longer ours, but our Master's, to be held for Him. It may mean parting with everything, as in the case of the early Christians, or, like Levi, we may leave all and yet still have. Levi's house was still "his own," and his money was used to make a great feast for Christ and draw sinners to Him (Luke 5:27-29). A very good example for some of us!
The severing is aimed at what ties a person to this world, and the dearest ties are the ones most at risk:
But those who entered in must count the cost (v. 25-33). All must be forsaken in this world; every link with this world must be broken. The nearer anything was to the heart, the more dangerous, the more it must be hated. Not that the affections are evil things; but, Christ being rejected by this world, everything that binds us to earth must be sacrificed for Him.
Some might twist the verse into an excuse for neglecting the family. It is no such thing:
He does not mean that one should literally ignore his wife, his children or other natural responsibilities (1 Tim. 5:8), but to allow none of them to have a prior place. Christ must be first.
Levi shows where the power to leave everything comes from:
No one, and nothing that we possess, can be allowed to hinder the true disciple from following in the steps of his Master and Lord. When the Lord said to Levi, "Follow me," the call brought with it the power to follow, and "leaving everything, he rose and followed him" (Luke 5:27-28). In Jesus, Levi found a new object, and the attraction of Him enabled Levi to leave all and take the path of discipleship.
Verses 25-33 call for counting the cost, but the sum does not work out the way we expect:
Yet it is not a matter of gathering our own resources in a human way. It is a matter of forsaking all that is our own, and so being Christ's disciple.
Empty of our own supply, we lean on His:
If, as verse 33 says, we do forsake all that we have, we shall depend wholly on the resources of the great Master we follow. Then the path of discipleship becomes gloriously possible for us.
- Cause — Grace comes first. Nobody buys it by selling all. Love, not bargaining, drives any real forsaking.
- Call — When the Lord says "Follow me," the call itself carries the power to obey. A new attraction takes hold of the heart.
- Cost — Forsaking cuts the heart's ties to what we own. The goods may stay, but they belong to the Master now. Every link to this world goes.
- Caution — The verse withholds the name "disciple," not salvation. It never excuses anyone from caring for wife, children or household.
- Consequence — Count on your own resources and you fall short. Give them up and you depend wholly on His. That is where the path becomes possible.
Salt [then] [is] good, but if the salt also has become savourless, wherewith shall it be seasoned?
Jesus has just set out what it costs to follow Him. He ends the appeal with a picture from the kitchen table. His closing question is a frightening one. If the one thing that makes salt worth having drains away, what is left to work with?
The saying is not stray wisdom. It closes the Lord's terms for following Him, and it names the worst ending of all.
First He insists on a thorough break with nature, and next that this shall continue. So in His illustrations He shows the need of purpose, and the danger of taking on such a task. Otherwise a man is sure to leave the work undone... The moral of all this is that man is not enough in himself. Only God can enable a man to leave the world for Christ and to keep following after Christ. The worst of all is to renounce Him after bearing such a name — salt that has lost its savour.
The Lord calls salt good. The contrast with leaven shows why.
Salt, which the Lord calls "good," stands opposed to leaven, the type of corrupting evil. Salt keeps things pure without any violence, and that use among people fits such an application... The salt of the covenant was God's pledge of a savour that never passed away. On our side there is the need of a holy separating energy toward God, to keep us from corrupt words and ways.
Commentators put the accent differently. Kelly stresses purity that resists decay. Darby stresses separation to God, and he names a surprising cause for the loss.
"Salt" is grace in spiritual energy. It means the saints are witnesses in the world of the power of holy love, instead of selfishness. Salt is the setting-apart principle of grace. If that is gone, what is left to preserve? Salt is grace seen as holy separateness to God, more than as kindness and meekness... Whatever weakens attachment to Christ destroys power. It is not gross sin that does it — that of course will be met and judged. It is the little things of everyday life that we are apt to choose before Christ. When the world creeps in, the salt has lost its savour, and we show that a rejected Christ has little power in our eyes.
The Lord asks how salt could ever be re-salted. Kelly draws out what that missing answer means.
By His question and comment He showed that the true and holy savour, once lost, could never be repaired. Grace may still work in one person, or in a few here and there, but nothing can restore the pure position. Salt is itself. Nothing outside can give the saltness that disappears.
That is the loss of the position. For the person, Darby leaves a door open.
Mercy may indeed recover us. But as saints we should have the savour of Christ.
Salt with no saltness is good for nothing. Applied to a person, the loss cuts two ways.
What in the world is as useless as salt that has lost the one property people value it for?... So with the disciple who ceases to be Christ's disciple. He is not suited for the world's purposes, and he has abandoned God's. He has too much light or knowledge to join in the empty pleasures and sins of the world. And he has no enjoyment of grace and truth to keep him in the path of Christ.
The danger is not always open scandal. It can be truth known but held at arm's length.
The very highest truths of God have become the topic of the world's conversation. Many believers hold them in a way that loses their edge and power. They join worldly talk and behaviour to a head knowledge of these same truths.
So how do we keep the savour? It starts inside, and then it shows in what we say.
Among the children of God, self-judgment and peace are to rule within. Outside, gracious speech (kept by the truth), wisdom and zeal are to mark them. We need the salt of the covenant of our God to keep peace inside and to show divine grace outside. We must apply it to ourselves first, and then let it give savour to our speech.
- Good — Salt holds back decay. It stands against leaven, the picture of corrupting evil, and carries God's pledge of a savour that never fades.
- Savour — That savour is grace in living energy: hearts set apart to God, not to self.
- Lost — It leaks away through small daily choices, not through gross sin. The world creeps in, and Christ comes second.
- Irreparable — Nothing outside can put the saltness back. Mercy may still recover a person, but the pure position is gone.
- Useless — The disciple who quits fits nowhere: too much light for the world's pleasures, no enjoyment of Christ's path. So keep the savour: judge self inside, season your speech with grace outside.
It is proper neither for land nor for dung; it is cast out. He that hath ears to hear, let him hear.
Jesus is teaching the crowds who follow Him. He ends with a picture from the kitchen: salt that no longer tastes of salt. The question is not whether salt is good. It is what remains of a follower who keeps the name and loses the thing itself.
Why salt? One writer takes it as grace at work with energy, holding a life apart for God.
"Salt" is grace in spiritual energy. That is, the saints are witnesses in the world to the power of holy love, instead of selfishness. Salt is the consecrating principle of grace: if that is gone, what is to preserve? Salt stands for grace as holy separateness to God, more than as kindness and meekness. Of course, kindness and meekness cannot be separated from grace either.
Salt has one property people want it for. Lose that, and it has no other use — and the same holds for the person it pictures.
What is there in the world so useless as salt when it has lost the one property for which it is valued? "It is of no use either for the soil or for the manure pile. It is thrown away." It is worse than useless for any other purpose. So with the disciple who ceases to be Christ's disciple. He is not suited for the world's purposes, and he has forsaken God's. He has too much light and knowledge to plunge into the empty pleasures and sins of the world. And he has no enjoyment of grace and truth to keep him in the path of Christ. Salt that has lost its taste becomes an object of contempt and judgment.
Kelly adds that the wording never names who throws the salt out.
Modern table salt cannot go flat, which can make the image feel unreal. The salt of that region could.
Eastern salt was different from the salt we use now. It was not pure sodium chloride. It also contained plant and earthy material. Sun and rain could wear it down until it turned tasteless and useless.
The warning lands on people who carry the name of follower. One writer traces the same failure back through Israel's history.
But tasteless salt — what use is it? Just as little is discipleship without reality. Israel had been, in God's thought for her, such a purifying salt for the nations of the earth. It had become tasteless; and God's new good news had not succeeded in giving back to it the quality it had lost. It could only be cast out. The same would be true of anyone who now has only the label of discipleship without the reality.
We expect the danger to come from scandal. One writer points somewhere far more ordinary.
Whatever weakens attachment to Christ destroys power. It is not gross sin that does it; that of course will be met and judged. It is the little things of everyday life that we are apt to choose before Christ. When the world creeps in, the salt has lost its savour and we show that a rejected Christ has little power in our eyes.
The Lord asks what could ever make flat salt salty again. He leaves the question hanging. One writer presses that silence:
His question and His comment showed that the true and holy savour, once lost, could never be repaired. Grace may still work in one person, or in a few here and there. Even so, nothing brings back the pure position. Salt is itself. Nothing outside can give the saltiness that disappears.
Commentators differ on how absolute this is for the individual. In the same passage, Darby allows that mercy may still recover us. He also holds that as saints we should carry the savour of Christ.
The closing line is not decoration. It turns the whole warning into a personal question.
If the disciple compromises he becomes like salt that has lost its savour, and he is fit for nothing. What a word for us! Grace has called us, and has set our feet in the path of discipleship. Are we meeting its solemn conditions, so that we are disciples indeed? May we indeed have ears to hear!
- Salt is separation. It stands for grace working as holy energy, keeping a life set apart for God rather than absorbed into self.
- Salt is useful. That is its one value, and a disciple's one use is to carry the savour of Christ into the world.
- Salt can go flat. Salt in that land held earth and plant matter, and sun and rain could leave it tasteless. A profession without reality goes the same way.
- Flat salt fits nowhere. Not for the soil, not for the manure pile: too much light to enjoy the world, too little enjoyment of grace to walk with Christ.
- So hear it now. The loss comes by small daily choices, not by scandal. The Lord's closing call puts the warning to each conscience.