In the north-west part of France, there used to be a tiny village called Lisieux. It’s still there – but it’s no longer so small and proper. Here - was born a little girl – to a family that adored her.

Therese was given many advantages in life – the one she took most advantage of was her education. And this education led her to the church. There, Therese discovered early a deep and meaningful relationship with Jesus Christ…but not right away.

As a child – she was not exactly what we think of as “saintly”. In fact, there has been a lot written about her being high strung. Apparently she often had a clear idea of what she wanted, and threw a fit when she didn’t get it. She was smart – and loving – but also quite difficult.

Her church – and her family – were shocked as she began to morph into a grown, faithful person. And soon after, having experienced something special with Jesus – she took vows and became a nun. She entered the convent – desiring to be a saint. She wanted to be counted among the ranks of all our saints who have done wonderful and strange things.

Saints who have worked miracles, brought people back to life, changed hearts, changed minds, fed the hungry, clothed the poor – even defeated dragons…you name it. She wanted to be one of them. Ambitious. But honest.

And when you read her writing – it almost seems like she thought it would be easy.

After six years of struggling to be perfect – to do everything right – to be seen as a saint…she changed her mind about whether such a thing was even possible.

She began to realize how small and insignificant her life was in the vast expanse of time and space – not in a bad way – but in comparison to the whole world, full of people around her.

She found she was unable to live completely into the love she so strongly believed in.

She found that no matter how hard she tried – she still got angry, was frustrated, and floundered in her own humanity.

Her diaries and notebooks at this time tell us something of her profound sadness at her own inability to conquer herself – in order to be like the saints of old.

Saints who make it look easy.

Who were filled with grace and love – and capable of miracles.

And so we remember her instead for writing about something she called, “the little way”:

"I will seek out a means of getting to Heaven by a little way—very short and very straight, a little way that is wholly new. We live in an age of inventions; nowadays the rich need not trouble to climb the stairs, they have lifts instead. Well, I mean to try and find a lift by which I may be raised unto God, for I am too tiny to climb the steep stairway of perfection. [...] Thine Arms, then, O Jesus, are the lift which must raise me up even unto Heaven. To get there I need not grow; on the contrary, I must remain little, I must become still less."[89]

The little way.

The way by which she was, in fact, raised up to be a saint – by doing small, little, simple acts of kindness and mercy.

By understanding the specific role Jesus was asking her to play – however small it may have seemed to her, it did actually have grand repercussions.

This is what both Paul and Jesus are getting at today.

Both are talking about what we call the “reward of the righteous.”

Both are referring to a process of sanctification – by which we live into our salvation – into the love of God that already lives in us – by participating in a slow…little…process.

By practicing – showing even the smallest bit of kindness and mercy.

This cold cup of water that Jesus is talking about – may not seem like a grand gesture to the person making it.

But in fact, to the traveler – the stranger, the outcast, the poor – this gesture is grand, indeed.

Not only is it water – it’s cold.

And on this hot day, we can begin to glimpse the extra kindness of that gesture.

Paul’s letter to the Romans – a bit scathing today, perhaps – but its encouraging us to think along similar lines.

Today – he’s having to teach the Romans a bit of a lesson – to correct them.

First he taught them that we are saved by faith. By grace.

That through Christ – and our belief in Christ – we are saved. We need not do anything else to earn our salvation. In fact – we can’t do anything else – because we don’t deserve it…

We can’t buy it – or earn it – or do anything to merit it…

And yet – our salvation is freely given – out of God’s love for us.

And Paul – has explained this to the Romans. And they’ve understood.

They’ve understood so well, actually, that they don’t think they need to necessarily do anything to be Christians.

It seems they’ve let themselves off the hook.

Believing that they’re saved – no matter what they do. Free to return to living the lives they want to live – as long as they “believe” – in some…thoughtful…existential way.

This is not how Paul intended for this conversation to go.

His intention was not to preach that what we do doesn’t matter – or that God doesn’t expect things of us.

By no means.

What he’s really getting at – is that as people – as finite creatures – there are always needs we have to meet. Things we have to be a part of. And people who fall above us somewhere in the hierarchy.

And in all of these cases, Paul’s point is that we have a choice.

We can belong to those people – to those things of this world – giving our attention and allegiance to finite, imperfect things.

Or we can choose – in our actions – and our words – to belong to God.

To follow our own little way – and even in the smallest of actions – to give glory to God.

Paul wants them to live faithful lives.

And he promises them that there is a reward for doing so.

A theme that Jesus picks up in the Gospel.

Jewish law indicated that when a messenger – or a representative – of someone came to you – you had to receive them as if you were receiving the person who sent them.

So, if the king sent you a messenger, you would roll out the red carpet, set the table, and welcome the messenger as gladly and as kindly as you would the king himself.

As Jesus prepares to send his disciples out into the world – he wants to make it clear – to them, and to those to whom they go – that these disciples are his representatives.

That they are expected to go into the world and witness – and that they should be received just as anyone would receive Christ himself.

And so then by extension – how they would in fact receive God.

Jesus is both naming the disciples, here, as his representatives- and reminding them of their sacred charge.

He’s reminding them that the work that they’re sent to do – is in someone else’s name.

And in the name of someone of great power.

So they’re urged, I think, to take it seriously. And to understand that the expectations are very high.

But also – they’re reminded that they, too, are little ones.

Which in the Greek – probably means that they, too, had needs that needed to be met. They, too, are dependent on the mercy of God and the people around them.

The disciples were the church then – but you – you are the church now.

Like the disciples we are sent out, too – reminded of our sacred charge – of the one in who’s name we go –

And reminded of the fact that we, too, are little ones – dependent both on showing kindness and mercy – as much as we are dependent on receiving kindness and mercy.

So as Jesus often does – he’s arguing backwards, here.

Even a little cup of water -- from the bottom up.

While the responsibility and expectations are great – the reward is for even the smallest of things we can do.

A small thing to many of us.

But so important to the person who needs it.

While the expectations are great – Jesus isn’t saying that everything we do has to be huge – or grand – or even special.

But both Jesus – and Paul – and the example of Therese – offer us a course to follow that is simple…

That may seem like it lacks…luster and shine…

But in fact – it is the road of sanctification.

The road that turns us toward God – and opens us up – wider and wider to receive and then return God’s love and grace.

With a Messiah who turns things on their heads – we find in the end, that this “little way” – is nothing other than the way of love and peace – the greatest way there ever could be, because it leads us to the most precious reward – through whoever it is in front of us – whichever disciple or prophet to whom we show kindness – straight through to the greatest reward – to Christ, himself.

Amen.

If you grew up in the Episcopal Church – using the 1928 prayer book – you might remember something called “the comfortable words.”

Just before celebrating the Eucharist – the priest would remind the congregation how much God loves them:

    Hear what comfortable words our Saviour Christ saith unto all who truly turn to him.

COME unto me, all ye that travail and are heavy laden, and I will refresh you.  St. Matt. xi. 28.
   

And - God loved the world, that he gave his only-begotten Son, to the end that all that believe in him should not perish, but have everlasting life.  St. John iii. 16.

If these are the comfortable words – then today in the Gospel – we have the (un)comfortable words.

In the midst of the Gospel from Matthew – Jesus reminds us that we are of great value –

But that’s just about the only thing in the Gospel for this morning that is comfortable.

The rest of it, I think, stands in stark opposition to the ways we often think about Jesus –

And yet – here it is. Some of the most difficult sayings we have on record

I have not come to bring peace, but a sword.
I have come to set a man against his father and a daughter against her mother.
Whoever does not take up the cross and follow me is not worthy of me.

This week – as I was thinking about this text – I paid special attention to the images of Jesus around us. To the way that Jesus is portrayed.

And I noticed how many billboards there are in this area that say things like, “I love you, Jesus” or “Jesus is coming.”

There were a few signs I saw this week that focused on repenting – that sort of came off in a scary way – Jesus is coming so get it right, kind of thing.

And then – out on a visit to see someone this week – I saw a kid in one of those t-shirts that was really popular a few years ago –

The cartoon caricature of Jesus on a surfboard and the text of the shirt reads “Jesus is my homeboy.”

My point is that we are surrounded – constantly barraged – with images of Jesus.

And in large part – they tend to fall into two categories.

On one side of the spectrum we have this Jesus-friend kind of figure.

This Jesus is a pacifist, a peace-maker – a spiritual teacher – a distant friend – who we can call whenever we need him.

Someone we can talk to about whatever’s going on in our lives – knowing that he’ll always love us.

This is a Jesus who is easy to stay in touch with – but not one who is terribly present in our moment-to-moment living.

He’s above it all – waiting for us to pop up into the clouds almost – and join him on his quest for spiritual truth – and peace.

This is a Jesus who is sort of generally – convenient. And appropriate.

One who doesn’t make a whole lot of claims on our lives.

In fact – other than sort of loving or neighbors…and kind of trying our best…it’s kind of hard to figure out what this Jesus wants of us.

On the other side of the spectrum is a very different image of Jesus.

This is the Jesus we often see on billboards – one who is quite a bit….well, he’s scary.

He’s always watching us. Knows what we’re doing all the time – and he’s not happy about it.

This is the Jesus who reminds us that if we don’t repent and get it right, that God might still love us- but that we’ll be lost.

And I think there are lots of folks in the world who are quite happy to portray this Jesus a little bit like an angry club leader.

He decides who is in and who is out – who matters and who doesn’t.

And all the while – he’s noticing what you’re doing and counting your sins.

This is an image of Jesus who trades in guilt – and for whom our trying – even our profound desire to do right – is never quite enough.

Both of these images of Jesus are dangerous – because they don’t take into account the fullness of who he is.

Because they aren’t balanced.

And in the end – they both show a desire to make Jesus who we want him to be – to suit some sort of human purpose -  which…really doesn’t work – at least not for very long.

These might be uncomfortable words this morning – but they’re still important.

As Jesus prepared his disciples for the early church – he knew that they would have to live through some very difficult things.

He knew that their faith would divide families. And nations.

He knew that for some of them, their very lives would be demanded of them.

And he knew that there would be some who would fight –who would do anything to prevent the world from truly experiencing the peace of the Gospel – the safety of God’s love – and the equality of God’s mercy.

And he expected – that despite all of this – the disciples would take up their cross and follow him.

This Jesus – the real Jesus – makes very real claims on their lives – and on ours.

He is not distant. Or far off. Or unclear about what he expects of us.

He is still clear about his love for us – and his desire to be with us – there is love in the balance, here.

But he expects us to get our priorities in order.

And you can start at the top of the list.

God – is the first word.

God.

Jesus expects that at the top of your list of priorities – the top of your list of things to do – the top of your list of the most important relationships in your life –

Jesus expects in every case that the first word- the first name-  there is God.

Before family. Before friends. Before any other kind of allegiance – or relationship – there is God.

That is a very present – and real – and concrete demand.

And Jesus knows – as he said to the disciples – that this isn’t always easy.

Sometimes it isn’t the popular choice.

Sometimes in trying to do the right thing – in trying to put God first – in trying to love our neighbor second – there are people who don’t understand this.

And who can’t detach from the things of this world.

And Jesus knew that enduring the consequences of those choices wouldn’t always be easy.

There is nothing convenient about putting God first – about following Jesus first.

And there is nothing “appropriate” about it either – when we do it right, it tends to fall very much outside the lines of “appropriate” behavior because it has always included radical hospitality – radical love – radical inclusion.

And yet he’s very clear – whoever denies me before others, I also will deny.  Whoever loves father or mother more than me is not worthy of me.  And whoever does not take up their cross and follow me is not worthy of me.

This is about priorities and expectations – and how we set up our lives after we’ve chosen to follow Jesus.

It doesn’t mean we don’t love our families – and our friends – it doesn’t mean we don’t feel allegiance or offer respect to other things –

But it means that disciples – following the real Jesus – will in all things put that relationship with God first.

Disciples – following the real Jesus – will in all things put following Jesus at the top of their list.

These are tough words. But they’re words we have to look at.

Because as much as we believe Jesus can be our friend – and our confident – and our support – Jesus is also the Messiah.

God in human form.

As much as we believe that Jesus is a spiritual teacher – who offered us the opportunity to love each other – and to live in peace –

Who preached liberation and equality – who defended the poor and the oppressed –

Jesus is also someone who makes concrete claims on our lives.

He doesn’t just want to be a friend we talk to from time to time.

This isn’t intended to be a casual, friendly relationship.

It is intended to be THE relationship.

The most important part of our lives.

And like all relationships – it needs tending – and prioritizing. Like all relationships – we have to choose to work at it.

To spend time in prayer. To spend time at church. To actively choose to put God first – to listen – and love. To pick up the cross and follow him.

Very real, concrete, expectations of our lives. And of our hearts. Amen.