And it came to pass when the days of his receiving up were fulfilled, that *he* stedfastly set his face to go to Jerusalem.
From this verse on, Luke's account changes direction. The Lord begins the long walk that ends at the cross. Two phrases carry the weight: the days of His being "received up," and a face set toward the city where He would die.
Commentators treat this verse as a heading over everything that follows in Luke.
In Luke 9 the crowd is fed, but our Lord's rejection shows more clearly. Soon after the transfiguration and the healing of the demon-possessed boy, His rejection begins to unfold. Luke 9:51 seems to gather all the rest of the Gospel narrative under this one subject. The journey led on to Jerusalem, the place where He would be crucified, and everything stands in that light. If men are to follow Him, it is following One who is going to the cross.
The verse does not say the time had come for Him to be crucified. The word points further on — to His being taken up into heaven.
The same Greek word for "taken up" is translated "received up" in Mark 16:19 and 1 Timothy 3:16. It is also found in Luke 9:51... How much lay before the blessed Lord. Pharisees, scribes, Herodians and Sadducees all tried to trap Him. Then came the abuse, wickedness and injustice before the kings of the earth and the leaders of Israel. Then Gethsemane, Gabbatha and Golgotha, with all its shame, weakness and divine judgment. Still, the Lord is able to look beyond it all to His being received up into heaven. It was "for the joy that was set before Him" that He "endured the cross, despising the shame" (Hebrews 12:2). This joy would be His at His receiving up.
The set face points back to Isaiah. It shows settled obedience, not indifference to what lay ahead.
In Isaiah, "I have set my face like a flint." He was carrying out His Father's will here, as in all His course. Redemption had to come through the cross... It was the same obedience as at the beginning. It was more painful now, and of course He felt the difference. But still He goes in the same blessed spirit and earnestness... He had found it His food to do the will of Him who sent Him. There was joy to Him in this; but in the cup of wrath He was going to drink there was no joy... His holy nature shrank from it, yet there was the same quiet, steady, patient obedience.
Obedience set the direction. Darby names love as the force behind it.
No affliction, toil, or suffering that He endured ever stopped this love from working. Neither did His disciples' errors, weaknesses, or faults. One denied Him and all deserted Him, yet that did not lessen it... Death was before Him — the death He had taken on Himself so that they might live for ever with Him in glory. He looked at it with a full understanding of its sufferings. Did this stand in the way of His love? No: His was a love stronger than death... He knew He had to fight there with the powers of darkness. His sufferings, death and the grave would follow. Yet, with the full prospect of it all, He set His face to go to Jerusalem. Why? Love urged Him onward.
A set face did not mean a hurried march.
Luke brings out the lingering of our Lord's love and pity. His face is set on the place where He was to die. But His slow steps show the reluctance and the sorrow with which He visits Jerusalem for the last time. There He gives the crowning proof of man's total ruin in His blood and cross.
He sends messengers ahead of Him to prepare the way. Their errand put the world to the test.
He seems to act in the awareness that this journey leads Him to glory. He sends messengers ahead of Him, as though to prepare a way that suits the glory He expects. The chariot of God would be ready to carry Him up from Jerusalem (Luke 24:51). But first it was for men to prepare His way from the place where He then was to that city. So He was, as it were, testing whether the world would own His claim to be "received up." Later He tested whether Israel would own His royal place in Zion (Luke 19:28). But neither would the world know Him, nor Israel receive Him. The earth did not care for His heavenly glory.
- Turn — This verse turns the whole Gospel toward Jerusalem. From here on, every scene stands in the light of the cross.
- Term — "Received up" is the word used elsewhere for His going up into heaven. His eye looked past Golgotha to glory.
- Flint — The set face matches Isaiah's "like a flint": the same obedience as at the start, only now far more costly.
- Love — Behind the obedience was a love stronger than death, unshaken by denial, desertion, or the grave.
- Refusal — He sent messengers ahead, yet the world would not know Him and Israel would not receive Him. The earth had no interest in His heavenly glory.
And he sent messengers before his face. And having gone they entered into a village of the Samaritans that they might make ready for him.
The last stage of the Lord's road to Jerusalem opens with an ordinary piece of travel planning. He sends men ahead into a Samaritan village to get a place ready. Why knock at a door that would not open?
This road ends at the cross and then at heaven's open doors. It also repeats something that had happened in Samaria long before.
Long ago these Samaritans had rejected the Lord's servant who was about to be taken up. Now, in the same circumstances, they reject the Lord Himself. The everlasting doors were about to open to the King of glory. After the victory of the cross heaven was ready to receive the Lord mighty in battle. But on earth, we read, "they did not receive Him."
The word behind "messengers" is the same one Scripture elsewhere translates as "angel." So were these men, or heavenly beings?
The word "angel" in itself does not describe a nature, but an office. It means a messenger. Only the context and the particular use of the word can decide. The word may apply to people, or to spiritual beings. In Luke 7:24; 9:52; 2 Corinthians 12:7; James 2:25 the term "angel," or its plural, refers to those sent on errands of various kinds.
This was not the Lord's first contact with Samaritans. The two visits ended in opposite ways.
At Sychar, very early in our Lord's ministry, before John the Baptist was even put in prison, a work went on there. We know something about it, and it came out of the Lord's conversation with the woman at the well (John 4). Later, in Samaria, the Lord met opposition. The people of one village refused to receive Him (Luke 9:52), because His face was as though He were going to Jerusalem. Warm welcome and flat rejection — these had been the Lord's experiences in Samaria.
Sending men in front was the normal courtesy shown to someone of rank. When the village would not play its part, the Lord took the lower place without complaint.
At the start, conscious of His personal glory, He looked forward to His being "raised up," as He was later. Then He sends messengers ahead of Him, in the ordinary, well-known manner of someone who wants it known that a person of distinction is coming that way. But the unbelief of the Samaritans changes the scene. They would not receive Him. They refused to build a road for the feet of this glorious One. Instead they forced Him to find the best path He could for Himself, as the rejected One. But He accepts this place at once, without a murmur in His heart.
The villagers turned Him away over the direction He was travelling. What offended them was His obedience itself.
We see the reason they did not receive Him was that His face was set towards Jerusalem. He was going to do God's will without honour or attractiveness or reputation. His obedience and singleness of purpose in going to Jerusalem is the very reason they would have nothing to do with Him. […] The Samaritans would not submit to God's way: Christ did. That is the difference.
Their own religion had already settled the matter before He arrived.
The Samaritans had no excuse. Loyalty to their own sect ruled them completely, in its worst form, and they were hostile to God's centre. They had their own form of worship. They would not receive anyone whose face was turned the opposite way to theirs, and so they refused Christ, the Son of God, on that basis.
The refusal showed up something in the disciples. The correction still stands for anyone carrying His message.
In the Gospel of Luke the Lord is a vessel of grace. He longs for the blessing even of those who are against Him. The disciples had to learn this. They had to watch their spirits; they did not know the kind of people they were. They were in the company of the vessel of grace, so they ought to be like Him. They ought to long for the blessing and salvation of those who are hostile to Christ Himself.
- Sent. "Messengers" names an errand, not an order of beings. Elsewhere the same word appears as "angel." Here it means men sent ahead on the Lord's business.
- Sent into Samaria. The village lay on hostile ground, yet He still knocked. Samaria had already given Him a warm welcome at Sychar, and now a flat refusal.
- Sent to prepare. Sending ahead was the courtesy owed to a person of rank. It asked the village to make the road ready for the One about to be taken up.
- Refused. They shut the door over the direction of His journey. They would not submit to God's way; His obedience to it was the very thing that offended them.
- Answered in grace. He made no protest and forced no entry. Those He sends are to carry the same longing for the blessing of people who are against Him.
And they did not receive him, because his face was [turned as] going to Jerusalem.
Messengers go ahead to arrange a night's lodging. A Samaritan village turns the Lord away — not for anything He did, but for the direction He was walking. Two questions follow: what makes people shut the door on Christ, and what does He do when they do?
Samaritans and Jews had a long dispute about where to worship God. A traveller heading for Jerusalem stood on the wrong side of it.
These Samaritans made a great mistake in refusing to receive the Saviour even as a passing guest. Strong religious prejudices were at the bottom of it. They disagreed sharply with the Jews about the place where people should worship. Mount Gerizim was their sacred spot, and Jerusalem was that of their rivals. Now Jesus had set His face towards Jerusalem. They knew it, and they would not let Him stay in their village — not even for an hour. They were wrong, very wrong. But their refusal shows how religious prejudices darken the understanding and lead to sorrowful results.
These people had every reason to know what Jesus was like. A small thing brought out what was already in them.
There was no readiness for the Lord. Their dislike of favoured Jerusalem made them forget everything: the glory of Jesus, and the proof of His gracious power. These very Samaritans had every reason to know that power and to be grateful for it... How often circumstances bring out the state of our hearts! They would never dare do this if Jesus alone were in view. But some petty selfish feeling stirs up a hidden jealousy and brings everything to light.
What offended them was His obedience to God's will.
He obeyed, and His purpose was undivided. He went to do God's will without honour or attractiveness or reputation. He went to Jerusalem. That is the very reason they would have nothing to do with Him... The Samaritans would not submit to God's way; Christ did. That is the difference.
James and John wanted death brought on the village. Their zeal looked like loyalty, and that is what made it hard to spot.
The first hindrance is selfishness, plain to see... It may come under cover of zeal for the Master's reputation, and this is the most subtle form of all. The Samaritans were altogether wrong in their attitude. He was going up to Jerusalem to die. James and John wanted to defend His importance — and their own along with it — by bringing death on others. Elijah had indeed acted this way when faced with the violence of a king who had turned away from God, but the Son of Man is of another spirit. That was the trouble with the disciples. They had not yet entered into the spirit of grace — the grace that marked their Master.
He had sent messengers ahead in the manner of someone of rank. The village's answer changed the scene.
But He knew "how to be brought low" too. Look at Him with the Samaritan villagers in Luke 9... He sends messengers ahead of Him, in the familiar style of someone announcing that an important person is coming that way. But the unbelief of the Samaritans changes the scene. They would not receive Him. They refused to build a road for the feet of this glorious One. They forced Him to find the best path He could for Himself, as the rejected One. But He accepts this place at once, without a murmur in His heart.
Another writer names what was missing in Him:
Though Lord of all, He was here with a tender heart and a lowly mind, having no self-importance to maintain... Christ, without resentment and without retaliation, will pass on to another village.
The story does not end at that village. Later, Peter and John walked back through Samaria.
How changed were the people of that province and that sect! The Lord was going towards Jerusalem. He entered a village of theirs, and they made Him leave. They would not receive Him, because His face was set toward the mother-city, Jerusalem (Luke 9:53). Now Peter and John, who had been with Him at that time, met with no coldness. Nobody in the Samaritan villages turned them away, even though they were going up to Jerusalem... When the Spirit is at work, prejudices of ages melt away. Difficulties that once looked impossible are no longer there.
- Prejudice. The village shut its door over an old dispute about the right place to worship. Prejudice darkened their understanding.
- Exposure. Circumstances bring what is hidden to the surface. A petty jealousy made them forget the glory and power they already knew in Him.
- Obedience. They rejected Him for going God's way to Jerusalem, without honour or reputation.
- Zeal. The disciples' zeal for their Master's honour was self in disguise. Elijah acted that way; the Son of Man is of another spirit.
- Meekness. With nothing to defend, He answered the insult by walking to another village. Where prejudice once shut Him out, the Spirit later melted it away.
And his disciples James and John seeing [it] said, Lord, wilt thou that we speak [that] fire come down from heaven and consume them, as also Elias did?
The Lord had set His face toward Jerusalem, and a Samaritan village turned Him away for it. Two of His closest followers asked permission to call down fire from heaven. The question is not whether they loved Him, but whether they understood Him.
The Samaritans had every reason to welcome Jesus. Something much smaller got in the way.
They disliked Jerusalem, the favoured city, and that dislike made them forget the glory of Jesus. They forgot the proof of His gracious power — something these very Samaritans had every reason to know and to be grateful for. How often circumstances bring out the state of our hearts! If it were only a question of Jesus, they would not dare to act like this. But some petty selfish feeling stirs up a hidden jealousy, and brings everything to light.
James and John had Elijah in mind. Their choice of example tells us something about them.
The spirit of the sons of Zebedee is aflame, and they would bring fire down from heaven in the manner of Elijah, to consume the rude Samaritans. Their appeal to Elijah's example seems to show that they were already far from sure. Would the Lord want to punish an offence like this in such a way? But they had lately seen Elijah with Him. They could quote his example to One who upheld the authority of Scripture so fully. Yet He makes it no question of Scripture; it was they who did not know what spirit they were of. They were not of His spirit, for the Son of Man had not come to destroy men's lives but to save them.
Their motive looked unanswerable. Who can fault someone for defending Christ's honour?
Of all forms of selfishness this is the most subtle and hardest to detect, for who can complain of zeal for the Lord, or say that it is wrong? And yet under zeal for the Lord there may lurk zeal for self. Zeal for Christ would want His enemies judged. Righteousness might seem to demand it, and a Scripture precedent would support such a course. Still, the Lord rebukes His disciples, saying, "You do not know what manner of spirit you are of." Underneath their zeal the Lord detects and exposes a spirit completely foreign to Himself. The Lord was exercising power in grace to meet man's need. The disciples would exercise power in judgment to gratify their own self-importance.
Commentators differ on where the fault lay. One writer looks past their love to their sense of timing.
They did not know what spirit they were of. That is, they did not discern the time. They did not understand the Lord and His work in this world. They misread the age they were in, and would have treated it as a time of judgment. Their affections were right. Their purpose and design will find its answer in due season, when the day of vengeance comes. So their error was not in affection, but in their grasp of the age they were in. Their Lord had come to save, not to kill.
Another writer contrasts Elijah with the disciples.
Elijah acted here as a representative of the law, which showed no leniency. The disciples of Christ were representatives of the gospel, which proclaims the forgiveness of sins. The old covenant had to alarm and subdue the enemies of the kingdom of God, and it used threatening words and punishing measures. The new covenant aimed to disarm them and, if possible, to win them by forgiving love.
This danger did not end with James and John.
Mr. Darby rightly said that divine principles in the hands of an unspiritual man are like a sword in the hands of a child or a drunk man. How true this is! What damage wrong spirits have done, with hard, harsh speaking that is not of Christ — and all of it supposedly in the name of Christ Himself! They were always in the company of One who showed kindness and love at every point. Yet here they were, still not having learned that lesson, wanting to be cruel and wanting others judged.
The rebuke was not the end of John's story.
Later John went again into Samaria, but showed a far different spirit (Acts 8).
- Refusal. A small grievance made the Samaritans forget everything they knew of His grace. Circumstances expose what is already in the heart.
- Fire. The two pointed to Elijah. That appeal to a precedent hints they already doubted their Master would agree.
- Spirit. Real zeal for Christ's honour hid a wounded self-importance. No one objects to zeal for the Lord, so this fault is the hardest to spot.
- Grace. They mistook the hour. Judgment has its appointed day, but their Lord came to save, and His servants carry forgiving love, not the sword.
- Change. The rebuke did its work. The same John who wanted Samaria destroyed later went back there in a different spirit.
But turning he rebuked them [and said, Ye know not of what spirit ye are].
The rebuke falls on two of Jesus' closest followers, not on the Samaritans who shut their door on Him. It raises a hard question: can zeal for Christ come from a spirit that is not His?
They had a prophet's example to appeal to. One writer sees in the way they appealed to it a sign that they already half expected His answer.
By pleading Elijah's example they seem to show that they were not at all sure the Lord would want to punish an offence like this in such a way. They could hardly have been with Him so long without learning this much of His patience. But they had just seen Elijah with Him, and they could quote his example to One who upheld the authority of Scripture so fully. But He makes it no question of Scripture. It was they who did not know what spirit they were of.
Jesus does not just refuse the plan. He turns round. His correction reaches past the words to the men who spoke them.
James and John later carried great weight and value in the church of God. Yet how painfully they showed here how little they saw of the grace of Jesus! The Lord of glory passes on, accepting His rejection... But His two servants owed everything to the only One who could take away their evil and give them the goodness of God. Yet they would command fire to come down from heaven and consume them like a Jewish prophet — all under the pretence of honouring Jesus. How little love had they for souls! Just as little was it a true regard for Jesus... Jesus turned therefore and rebuked them. It was not now simply a correction of what they were saying, but a rebuke to themselves.
In its chapter this is the third and last form that self takes.
First we saw selfishness in zeal for self, then selfishness hiding under zeal for a party. Now selfishness cloaks itself in zeal for the Lord. Of all forms of selfishness this is the most subtle and the hardest to detect. Who can complain of zeal for the Lord, or say that it is wrong? And yet under zeal for the Lord there may lurk zeal for self... The Lord was exercising power in grace to meet man's need. The disciples would exercise power in judgment to gratify their own self-importance.
Elijah's fire had been right in its own day. What had changed was not Scripture but the period of God's dealings — the dispensation — they now stood in.
They were in a different dispensation of God. It was not the dispensation of law, but of grace, since "grace and truth came through Jesus Christ." As long as God proclaims grace, judgment must wait. Yet judgment must come at last on those who refuse the grace of God.
On the wording itself, commentators differ over how much of the reply belongs here. Some manuscripts add words about the Son of Man coming to save and not to destroy. That is why the ESV prints only that He turned and rebuked them. Kelly thought those added words would put man at the centre here.
If inserted here, it would make man the reason and the end. But the idea went against the display of what God is. It did not fit His grace, which does not only save the soul but fills the heart with the moral glory of the Lord Jesus.
His own conduct answers their plan. He takes the insult and walks on.
Thus rejected, the Lord judges no one. He does not avenge Himself... That a Samaritan should turn away the Messiah was, to the disciples, worthy of destruction. Christ came to save men's lives. He submits to the insult, and goes elsewhere.
Jesus said these words to His own disciples. That is why they still apply.
How many un-Christlike things have been done under the plea of faithfulness to Christ! Possibly we have done them ourselves. And when we did them, our zeal for our Master's honour came from one spirit. It was the same spirit that made James and John eager to call down fire from heaven... We would defend our Master's name. We would stand up for His rights, whatever it cost — and we called down the fire!
- Spirit, not argument. Their case looked sound and their example from Elijah was real. The Lord passed both by and named the spirit underneath.
- Spirit disguised. Self is easiest to hide behind zeal for the Lord, because no one dares call that wrong.
- Spirit dated. Fire belonged to another dispensation. While God proclaims grace, judgment waits.
- Spirit displayed. He answered the insult by taking it and going to another village — that is the temper His followers are to share.
- Spirit examined. Ask not only "is this for Christ?" but "is this like Christ?" — the two can come apart in a sincere heart.
And they went to another village.
A Samaritan village had just shut its door on Jesus because He was heading for Jerusalem. Two of His disciples wanted the village burned. His answer names the reason He came at all — and it rules out the fire they asked for.
The village has turned Him away. Notice what He does not do:
Rejected like this, the Lord judges no one. He does not avenge Himself; He had come to save men's lives. To the disciples, a Samaritan who turned the Messiah away deserved destruction. Christ came to save the lives of men. He accepts the insult and goes elsewhere.
Their request sounded loyal to Jesus.
The last form of selfishness is the lifting up of self under the cover of zeal for the Lord... Of all forms of selfishness this is the most subtle and the hardest to spot. Who can complain of zeal for the Lord, or say that is wrong? Yet under zeal for the Lord there may hide zeal for self... The Lord was using power in grace to meet man's need. The disciples would use power in judgment to gratify their own self-importance.
Their anger had a wounded edge to it, since the slight to their Master was felt as a slight to them.
The disciples would take advantage of the wickedness of these people to exercise a judgment they deserved, but they would do so in the spirit of retaliation. Self was the secret of their proposal, but hidden under the cloak of zeal for the Lord.
James and John had Scripture on their side. Elijah had called fire down, and God answered him.
So, when Elijah asked for fire from heaven to burn up the men sent to arrest him, the fire came. God put His seal on that prayer, terrible as it was. Yet the disciples asked the same about the Samaritans: "Lord, do you want us to tell fire to come down from heaven and consume them?" They met rebuke, not approval: "You do not know what kind of spirit you are of." But why should what was right in Elijah be wrong in them? For this reason: "the Son of Man did not come to destroy men's lives, but to save them."
Another writer applies this to us:
They did not understand how God was dealing with the world now, in sending His Son into it. He had come in grace, not in judgment. The lesson for us is plain. We must not simply copy what was right for another time. We should truly know our own time and what suits it.
So should a preacher today follow Elijah's example?
The law required judgment of sin, and Elijah pressed this on Israel with force, even to the point of bringing God's judgment down on their heads. Yet the Lord Jesus insists that He Himself had not come to carry out the sentence of the law against men. He had come to save them. If this is the very reason for His coming, then the message of His saving grace is clearly the main message of His servants today.
It also shapes how believers treat those who oppose them:
The Lord does not take that place now. He is saving sinners and showing full grace in other ways. As long as He acts like this, He does not want His people to hold earthly power... Suppose someone opposes a believer with evil intent, and the believer wishes him death or injury. That would be foreign to Christianity and against everything it breathes. Christianity shows that the victory grace gives us is to show love and kindness to one's enemy.
The verse ends with an unremarkable action that carries the whole weight of the rebuke.
He turned round and went to another village. It is not pleasant to be trampled on in this world, but Christ was. To do good, suffer for it, and bear it patiently — that is our part... Christ came to suffer, to bear anything for the sake of others. He would not have been doing this if He had called down fire from heaven on the Samaritans. We have to follow Christ in carrying the testimony of God's love into the world in all our walk through it.
Older Bibles open this verse with an extra sentence: "For the Son of Man did not come to destroy men's lives, but to save them." The ESV leaves it out, because the earliest copies divide over it. Kelly, writing on the verse before, doubts it belongs:
The next verse seems to be — the first part at least — a later addition. It was not a question of saving souls in this place.
Either way, the writers agree on why He came: to save.
- Rejected — a village refuses Him, and He neither argues nor avenges; He submits to the insult and moves on.
- Exposed — their request looked like zeal for their Master. Underneath lay their own self-importance.
- Explained — Elijah's fire had God's seal in its day. It was wrong here because the Son of Man came to save lives, not destroy them.
- Applied — saving is why He came. So saving grace is His servants' message, and kindness to enemies is the victory grace gives.
- Followed — He walked on to another village instead of calling down fire. That quiet step is our pattern: carry God's love through a world that tramples on you.
And it came to pass as they went in the way, one said to him, I will follow thee wheresoever thou goest, Lord.
On the road a man offers Jesus unlimited loyalty, with no call and no conditions. The answer he gets is not about him at all, but about the road he has just volunteered for.
He speaks "as they were going along the road." That road already has one destination, and it colours everything that follows.
Luke 9:51 seems to include all the rest of the Gospel narrative under this general subject. The journey led on to Jerusalem, the place where He was to be crucified, and everything is in the light of that. If men are to follow Him, it is following One who is going to the cross.
The words sound like the finest thing a person could say to Jesus. They are also a promise made out of strength the speaker does not have.
It seemed a good confession, and it was a zealous resolution; but man can never go ahead of the Lord. No one ever did give himself up to God — he must be called. The person who says "I will follow you" does not know his own weakness. Think what man is and what Jesus is. For a man to say "I will follow you wherever you go" is plain presumption of the worst kind. Yet man sees no presumption in it. Man is so ignorant, so dulled by unbelief, that real faith looks presumptuous to him. Yet nothing is so humble. Faith forgets itself in the goodness and might of the One it leans on.
Christ puts the offer to the test. The test is a comparison with foxes and birds, and it measures what following Him would cost.
One man says, "Lord, I will follow you wherever you go," but Christ puts him to the test. You cannot go unless you share the lot of One who had nowhere to lay His head. You would sooner go to the birds of the air for a nest, or to the foxes for a hole, than to the Son of Man for a home in this world. They were not to come to Him now as the One who held the promises. They were to come to One whose portion was utter and complete rejection. Following Him could not come with ease and comfort here.
Darby traces the same pattern back to the night Jesus was born: "Everyone found room in the inn except Him, and anyone who wanted to find the One the angels celebrate had to go to the manger."
His homelessness was not bad luck. He owned the world He walked through, and the title Son of Man points to a rule that has not yet come.
The Lord's quiet answer neither pushed him away nor scolded him. It told him that true discipleship was not an easy calling... The Lord was a stranger in the middle of His own creation, though everything belonged to Him. One day He will rule over it all in the open as Son of Man (Psalm 8:6; Heb. 2:7-9). What effect the Lord's answer had on the man is not stated, and it does not concern us. What we need to know is the character of the path a true disciple must be willing to face.
So how does anyone follow at all? Kelly answers that the ability comes with the call.
No man is fit to follow the Lord until grace calls him. And when we are called, the Lord does not send us out at our own expense. He gives generously the wisdom and ability needed to those who ask Him; but He goes before us.
Luke never tells us what the man did. That silence turns the question toward every reader who has felt the same easy eagerness.
Some people say without thinking, "I would like to follow Him." That is just like the man who said, "Lord, I will follow you wherever you go." But Jesus spoke to this man. It was as if He said: Do you know what you are saying? Do you know why you are so ready to come? "Foxes have holes, and birds of the air have nests, but the Son of Man has nowhere to lay His head." Will you follow the Homeless Stranger?
- Road. He offers to follow on a journey with a fixed end — Jerusalem and the cross. To follow Him anywhere is to follow Him there.
- Resolve. "I will follow you" is the promise of a man who does not know his own weakness. No one ever gave himself to God; grace must call him, and grace supplies what it calls for.
- Reality. Foxes have holes and birds have nests. The Son of Man had less shelter in this world than His own creatures.
- Rejection. He is a stranger inside a world that belongs to Him — refused room at the inn at His birth, and now with nowhere to lay His head.
- Reign. The homeless Son of Man will one day openly rule over everything He now walks through as a stranger. The path is hard; the destination is not in doubt.
And Jesus said to him, The foxes have holes and the birds of the heaven roosting-places, but the Son of man has not where he may lay his head.
In Luke 9 two men offer to follow Jesus, and He calls a third. Each one meets the cost. The first man gets an answer that says nothing about his eagerness and everything about the poverty of the One he wants to follow.
The man's offer sounds generous. One writer weighs what it means to offer yourself to God before God has called you.
It seemed to be a good confession, and it was a zealous resolution; but man can never go ahead of the Lord. No one ever did give himself up to God — he must be called. The person who says "I will follow you" does not know his own weakness... He miscalculates. He overlooks the glory of Christ and the depth of His grace. He overlooks his own total lack of power, and perhaps even his need of forgiveness. No one is fit to follow the Lord until he is called by grace.
Jesus does not refuse the man. He describes the road, and that description is the test.
One says, "Lord, I will follow you wherever you go," but Christ puts him to the test. You cannot go unless you take up your lot with One who had nowhere to lay His head. You would sooner go to the birds of the air for a nest, or to the foxes for a hole, than to the Son of Man for a home in this world. They were not to come to Him now as the One who held the promises. They were to come to One whose portion was utter and complete rejection... At His birth we see the same thing. Everyone found room in the inn except Him.
Foxes and birds are not rich. They are small creatures with the barest cover, and they still have more than He does.
The Word who became flesh was the Son of Man, with rights to the whole creation. Yet He had nowhere to lay His head... Foxes and birds are creatures of His hand, members of the lower creation. They had their lairs and their nests, but He, the Lord of them all, was homeless.
No one took anything from Him by force. Another writer presses the difference between losing something and refusing it.
By personal right this Son of Man owned everything; He had never lost Eden... With all this title, He took nothing. He had lost nothing, but still He would have nothing. No sentence of judgement had exposed Him to hardship or sorrow. The earth on which He had the right to walk was not one of thorns and thistles. But He willingly took up all sorrow and hardship, and walked as one acquainted with grief all His days.
The man's impulse may have been sincere. But sincerity is not the same as strength.
This may have been the outcome of a generous impulse that drew the man to the Lord. At the same time it betrays the shallowness of nature. Nature did not grasp who the Lord was, where He was going, or the path He was treading... The energy of nature, however genuine, was not prepared for such a path. Nature can do much, but it cannot give up itself, its ease, its comforts, to follow a rejected Lord. And so, once the Lord set this path before the volunteer, we hear no more of him.
The man came hoping to get something. One writer shows how little was on offer.
The man was judged. He came for what he could get, and the Lord had nothing to give him — nothing but shame, and suffering, and destitution... There was no man in Israel so poor as the Lord Jesus. So it was no use for this man to follow Him in the hope of gaining by it.
The verse is not only a warning. It also explains where our own rest comes from.
There is only one man who never had a place of rest... And if we now have a nest, a place of rest in God, it is because for our sakes Jesus was without rest on earth.
One writer turns the verse on the ordinary longing for a home of your own.
No one likes to be without a home. There is a longing in everyone's heart for a resting place... But one blessed Stranger was here. He was the true Pilgrim, and He tells those who would follow Him that His was not a path of ease, of wealth or of power... We may have what we call a home. But as far as the real home of the soul goes, are we not joined with Him who had nowhere to lay His head?
- Offer. The man volunteers unlimited loyalty; no one ever gives himself to God unasked — he must be called.
- Test. Jesus answers by describing the road, not by praising the promise. A fox's hole is easier to find than a home for the Son of Man.
- Cost. He owned all creation and lost none of it, yet He took nothing; there was nothing on earth to gain by following Him.
- Exposure. Natural eagerness can do much, but it cannot surrender its own ease; the volunteer is never heard of again.
- Gift. He had no rest on earth so that we could have rest in God. That makes every follower a pilgrim here.
And he said to another, Follow me. But he said, Lord, allow me to go first and bury my father.
Here the Lord Himself calls a man to follow Him. The answer sounds reasonable — but one small word in it, "first," is what the Lord will not accept.
The two men in this passage move in opposite directions. The first offered himself and felt no obstacle; this one is called, and immediately the obstacles appear.
And He said to another, "Follow me." But he said, "Lord, let me first go and bury my father." Jesus said to him, "Leave the dead to bury their own dead. But as for you, go and proclaim the kingdom of God." Now here is real faith; and where this exists, it is more than a theory — difficulties are felt. So the man begins to make an excuse. On one side he feels the attraction of the word of Jesus. But at the same time he is not free from the force that drags him back into nature.
Everything in the man's answer turns on one word. He does not refuse. He reorders.
The word "first" — let me first go and bury my father — shows something put before Christ. It is as if the man said, "There is something I put ahead of Your calling." Death had come in, and this very plea told Christ that they were all under death. It was quite a right thing for the man to bury his father. But if life has come in, and the question is redemption — to be lost or saved — you must give yourself up to it.
The plea was not a weak one. It was the most basic of family obligations, and the law backed it.
This man pleads the very first of all human duties. What could seem not only reasonable, but so binding on him, as to go first and bury his father? Did not the law command the child to honour father and mother? Certainly; but One was there greater than the law. The God who gave the law was calling. If He says, "Follow Me," faith gives up everything — father, or mother, or wife, or children — for Christ's sake. Jews counted a man who did not bury his father with proper care and affection as unworthy of any place among them.
Elsewhere the Lord rebuked religious leaders for pushing family duty aside. Commentators see no contradiction here:
In the one case, He set the divine call above the claims of family duty. In the other He condemned the Pharisees, who set human tradition above family duty. That reversal had no adequate warrant. God established the responsibility of children to their parents, and God alone can set it aside.
The Lord's reply uses the word "dead" twice, and not in the same sense both times.
The Lord's answer to him is, "Leave the dead to bury their own dead. But as for you, go and proclaim the kingdom of God." That was a puzzling answer to a person whose heart was divided. This is how the Lord tests faith. He does not put things in the simplest possible form, above all where a person allows something that hinders. So He says, let those who are spiritually dead bury their natural dead — but you go and announce the kingdom of God. This man was not only called to follow Jesus, but to be a witness for Him.
The verse is not a licence to neglect parents. Commentators are careful to keep the balance:
The claims of natural relationship can be a serious hindrance to following the Lord with an undivided heart, but His claims come first. This does not contradict 1 Timothy 5:8, "if anyone does not provide for his relatives, and especially for members of his household, he has denied the faith and is worse than an unbeliever." A person can do the Lord's work and provide for his own house at the same time. But this man wanted to delay doing the Lord's work until he was completely free of any obligation to his father.
The excuse was defensible. That is why it is a warning.
There cannot be any "firsts" if we are disciples, because the Lord must be first. It was a perfectly legitimate thing to do — "let me first go and bury my father." We would all say, "Well, that man had a very good reason for going and doing this." But our lives will come under review. Then the Lord will decide what was right and what was wrong. He will decide it by how we lived in relation to Himself.
- The call comes first. The volunteer felt no difficulty. The man Christ called felt it at once — a sign his faith was real.
- "First" is the problem word. He never says no. He puts something ahead of the One calling, and that alone exposes his heart.
- The claim outranks the law. God commands children to honour father and mother. Only the God who gave that command can set it aside.
- The commission replaces the delay. Those who are spiritually dead can bury the natural dead. The one Christ calls goes and proclaims the kingdom.
- No "firsts" survive. Family still counts — 1 Timothy 5:8 stands. But no good duty excuses putting Christ second.
But Jesus said to him, Suffer the dead to bury their own dead, but do *thou* go and announce the kingdom of God.
Jesus calls a man to follow Him, and the man asks to bury his father first. The reply sounds harsh, and it raises two questions: who are the "dead" here, and why must a funeral wait?
The man's request was no weak excuse. Burying a father was the plainest duty a son could have.
The flesh is so bold in its offers to go after Jesus, but in reality it is slow to follow when He calls. This man, though called, feels the difficulties at once, and says, "Lord, let me first go and bury my father." You find this in true believers. When a person has Christianity before his mind as a theory, all seems easy. He thinks he can do anything. Usually, where the faith is genuine, a person feels the difficulties; and this man pleads the very first of all human duties. What could seem more reasonable, or more binding on him, than to go first and bury his father? Did not the law command the child to honour father and mother? To be sure; but One was there greater than the law.
The Lord's reply tests the man, and it turns on one word. He uses "dead" twice, with two different meanings.
This was a test. Christ knew everything, and He called this man at that exact moment for a reason: was Christ worth more to his soul than anyone or anything else in the world? The Lord's answer to him is a puzzling one to a person who was not single-minded. This is how the Lord tests faith… So He says here, "Leave the dead to bury their own dead" — that is, let those who are spiritually dead bury their natural dead. It was not only that this man was called to follow Jesus, but to be a witness for Him, to be a proclaimer of God's kingdom.
The two deaths differ, yet the Lord's word ties them together.
Here it was only a dead father needing to be buried. The living disciple, the messenger of life, was not to be kept in the region of death, away from delivering his gracious message. Let the dead attend to death, is the Lord's word. The two deaths spoken of here are not the same, yet there is a simple and clear connection between them.
People misuse this verse. It does not excuse anyone from caring for his family. The fault here was the delay.
The Lord's words, "Leave the dead to bury their own dead" (v.60), show that those who have no spiritual life can occupy themselves with natural matters only. But when the Lord calls someone to preach the kingdom of God, he is to obey. The Lord allows no excuse. This does not contradict 1 Timothy 5:8: "If anyone does not provide for his relatives, and especially for members of his household, he has denied the faith and is worse than an unbeliever." One can do the Lord's work and provide for his own house at the same time. But this man wanted to put off the Lord's work until he was free of every obligation to his father.
Another writer puts it from the other side.
This does not mean that we are to give up natural relationships. God formed them. We are to bring the grace of Christ into them. But we must not let them hinder us in the path of God's will.
Jesus does not only turn the man down. He sends him out, and the errand carries its own dignity.
The sense of the dignity of His ministry was strong in Him. He answers, "One fellow creature may do the service of the dying for the dying. But you go and do the work of a living Saviour in the world."… "Leave the dead to bury their own dead. But as for you, go and proclaim the kingdom of God" — go and do My business, the business of life, and not of death, in a world struck by sin.
The urgency behind the command comes from Christ Himself.
Meanwhile, for this very reason, the preaching of the kingdom was the only thing His unwearying love could do. The dead (to God) might bury the dead. The man who was called, who was alive, must be taken up with one thing — the kingdom — to bear witness to it. And that without looking back, the urgency of the matter lifting him above all other thoughts.
- Called — Christ called this man Himself. The call came as a test: was Christ worth more to him than anyone else?
- Claimed — his excuse was the most respectable duty a son could have. But One greater than the law was speaking.
- Clarified — "the dead" who bury the dead are the spiritually dead. Those without divine life can attend to the affairs of death.
- Commissioned — the man is not left with a refusal but with an errand: the business of life, not of death. A messenger of life does not stay among the graves.
- Concentrated — the kingdom asks for one occupation, without looking back. That never cancels caring for your own family. It only refuses delay.
And another also said, I will follow thee, Lord, but first allow me to bid adieu to those at my house.
Commentary for this verse has not been generated yet.
But Jesus said to him, No one having laid his hand on [the] plough and looking back is fit for the kingdom of God.
A man offers to follow Jesus. He asks only for time to say goodbye at home — an ordinary courtesy, not a refusal. The Lord answers with a picture from the field, and it raises two questions. Why does so small a delay matter? And what does it mean to be "fit for the kingdom of God"?
His request was the mildest kind of delay. Even so, one writer notes, the Lord will not let it take first place.
Here we have someone who lets the pleasant courtesies of life come "first." It was no serious delay. It was merely paying them ordinary politeness. But the Lord insists on the absolute giving up of every hindrance. If Christianity is anything, it must be everything. It allows no rivals and no delays. It could not be the kingdom of the true God if it tolerated His servants turning aside even a little. Christ is the first and the last. He must be everything to the heart, or through the schemes of the enemy He becomes nothing.
The picture comes from a farmer working a light hand plough. Everything depends on where his eyes are.
Anyone holding a hand plough must give his whole attention to the work. He keeps his eyes forward, both to make a straight furrow and to keep the plough at an even depth. If someone has no real purpose to follow the path of discipleship steadily and without swerving, he is not fit for the kingdom of God.
Another writer draws the line from the eyes to the feet — the direction of a look becomes the direction of a life.
He would gladly put his hand to the plough — take up service — but his heart was "looking back" to the home, and we go the way we look. How impossible for a worker to plough his furrow while walking one way and looking another. The service of the Lord demands an undivided heart.
The man's problem was not that he loved his family. It was that his heart had not left them. One writer looks under the excuse and finds self at the end of it.
This case shows that those at home were not left behind in his heart. He felt he had to break with them, and yet his heart lingered. … If Christ is not first and last, He will always be last, for faith is not at work. … People may talk about the claims of affection. Yet it is not really family affection alone; what they feel is the end of it that ties back to self.
Writers link the words to Elisha, who was literally ploughing when Elijah called him and asked to kiss his father and mother goodbye (1 Kings 19:19-20).
Now this was most natural, and, as some would say, kind and affectionate. But sadly, pleasantness and natural affection have often kept people from entering the Lord's service as they should.
The same writer is careful to add what the Lord is not saying, and where the power to obey Him comes from.
It is not that the Lord sets aside the mercy of a home on earth, the claims and duties of natural relationships, or the affections that belong to them. He puts His own claims first, and looks for a devotedness that surrenders everything to Him. Only in the light of the glory of Christ in the kingdom of God, and in the power of the grace of Christ, will we be able to refuse our sinful nature in its many forms, the selfishness of our hearts, and the claims of nature.
The word "fit" alarms many readers. One writer sets this verse beside Colossians 1:12, where the Father "has qualified you to share in the inheritance of the saints in light." The two belong to different lines of truth.
The first statement — being made fit for the inheritance — is absolute and unconditional. The second — fitness for the kingdom — is strictly conditional. To look back from the plough shows unfitness. The first is the fruit of God's pure and boundless grace. … The second lies wholly in the line of responsibility — holding the plough of service. It depends on faithfulness on our part.
That distinction turns the verse into a healthy warning rather than a threat.
He knows he is running a race. He knows he is weak and easily turned aside, prone to look back and spoil his furrow, and possibly to lose the prize on the coming day. This is all deeply serious, but he has no question about the inheritance. That is settled. … So he seeks grace, in order to be as fit for the kingdom as he has been made fit for the inheritance.
- Eyes. The gaze guides the plough. A worker who looks back cannot cut a straight furrow, "and we go the way we look."
- First. The man's fault was one word — "first." A small courtesy put first is still a rival, and Christianity "allows no rivals and no delays."
- Heart. He was willing to leave home, but his heart lingered there. Natural affection is not condemned, yet it must not outrank the Lord's claim.
- Fitness. Fitness for the kingdom depends on faithfulness in service. God makes us fit for the inheritance by pure grace, and that is never in doubt.
- Aim. So the verse warns of a spoiled furrow and a lost prize, not a lost inheritance. It calls for the undivided heart that ploughs straight.