The Bible

 

Ղուկաս 14:25-35 : Leaving All to Follow Christ

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25 Իրեն հետ մեծ բազմութիւններ կ՚երթային. դառնալով անոնց՝ ըսաւ.

26 «Եթէ մէկը ինծի գայ՝ բայց չատէ իր հայրն ու մայրը, կինը եւ զաւակները, եղբայրներն ու քոյրերը, նաեւ իր անձը, չի կրնար իմ աշակերտս ըլլալ:

27 Ո՛վ որ չի կրեր իր խաչը եւ չի գար իմ ետեւէս, չի կրնար իմ աշակերտս ըլլալ:

28 Որովհետեւ ձեզմէ ո՞վ՝ եթէ ուզէ կառուցանել աշտարակ մը՝ նախ չի նստիր ու հաշուեր ծախսը, թէ զայն լրացնելու կարողութիւն ունի՛.

29 որպէսզի երբ հիմը դնէ եւ չկարողանայ աւարտել, բոլոր տեսնողները չսկսին ծաղրել զինք

30 ու ըսել. “Այս մարդը սկսաւ կառուցանել, բայց չկարողացաւ աւարտել”:

31 Կամ թէ ո՞ր թագաւորը՝ ուրիշ թագաւորի մը հետ պատերազմելու երթալէ առաջ՝ չի նստիր ու խորհրդակցիր, թէ արդեօք տասը հազարով կրնա՛յ դիմաւորել ա՛ն՝ որ քսան հազարով կու գայ իրեն դէմ:

32 Եթէ չի կրնար, քանի դեռ ան հեռու է՝ դեսպան ղրկելով խաղաղութիւն կը խնդրէ:

33 Ահա՛ այսպէս ալ ձեզմէ ա՛ն որ չհրաժարի իր ամբողջ ինչքէն, չի կրնար իմ աշակերտս ըլլալ»:

34 «Աղը լաւ բան է. բայց եթէ աղը իր համը կորսնցնէ, ինչո՞վ պիտի համեմուի:

35 Ո՛չ հողի, ո՛չ ալ թրիքի յարմար կ՚ըլլայ. ուստի դուրս կը նետեն զայն: Ա՛ն որ ականջ ունի լսելու՝ թող լսէ»:

Commentary

 

Self Denial

By Bill Woofenden

"Jesus said to his disciples, 'If anyone would come after me, he must deny himself and take up his cross and follow me.'" —Matthew 16:24One requirement to qualify as a Christian that we may hear mentioned frequently is that of "self-denial." However, there are probably few terms in the language of religion that have been so grossly misunderstood or so wrongly interpreted. I suspect that even today more Christians than not give mere lip service to this saying of Jesus, in part at least because they do not really understand what it involves.If people think about it at all (and I sometimes wonder how many do), they may be inclined to think that Christian self-denial means that the person who is really serious about being a Christian must give up many of the sort of things that many people value most: ambition, worldly pleasures, perhaps under some circumstances even home and family ties, and devote him or herself to "otherworldly" interests. Some may go so far as to think that it implies that there is a certain virtue in doing without most of the things one wants, simply because the person wants them; or, that there is somehow Christian virtue in suffering for suffering's sake! Such ideas as this might fit well with a pagan or even ancient Hebrew concept of God as a jealous being who takes pleasure in being served, and who gets angry if his every wish is not carried out. But this concept of self-denial is completely inconsistent with the Christian idea of God as a sympathetic and loving father whose one purpose is to give to his children all the happiness he possibly can. If we believe, as I'm sure we should, that God loves us, how can we think that he wants us to be deprived of any legitimate satisfaction or enjoyment? How could a loving God have created us with so many desires and instincts, only to command us to frustrate most or all of them? Or, why should there be so many possibilities of pleasure in this world which God created if it is not his will that these possibilities be realized? There is, I believe, a reasonable and straightforward answer to these questions. And that is that the apparent contradictions probably stem for the most part from our failure to understand what Jesus meant by admonishing us to "deny ourselves." For example, you cannot be said to be denying yourself when you attack or persecute yourself. Nor can it be said to be denying yourself if you go to great pains to avoid what you fear, on the one hand, or what you covet, on the other hand. Let me read our text again as it is translated in the Today's English Version: "Jesus said to his disciples, 'If anyone wants to come with me, he must forget himself, carry his cross, and follow me.'" This wording points clearly to the great truth involved here: to deny self is to disregard it, to turn our attention and our interest in directions other than self. Christ, for instance, did not seek the cross, thinking that somehow it would be good for him spiritually to be crucified! But when his forgetfulness of self led him to the cross, he accepted crucifixion as a necessary part in the fulfillment of his mission—his mission being to bear witness to, and live out completely, life's spiritual and divine values. He was so unselfishly concerned with his mission that he gave no more than passing thought to his personal human wishes or to his personal comfort in the matter. The task was what counted for him. That is real self-denial: to put the task ahead of oneself. The mistaken idea that self-denial involves in some way persecuting oneself results in defeating the whole purpose of self-denial. For, paradoxically, whether you are pampering your self or tormenting yourself, the psychological effect is essentially the same. In either case, you are managing to keep yourself in a place of great importance to yourself. Some of us, I think, take greater delight in talking and thinking about our self-persecution than we do in publicly reproaching ourselves for our self indulgence—even though we actually enjoy both. For instance, how often do we say things like, "I really watch what I eat," and then cherish the looks of admiration we get when we refuse a piece of pie a-la mode or a second helping of roast beef, pointing out to our admirers that even if it means giving up things we really like, we always rigorously control our diet. Or, on the other side of the coin, how many of us are prone to say things like, "Well, I realize it's probably selfish, but after all my years of hard work and struggle, I think I deserve a few luxuries" (such as a $40,000 car—which I really can't afford—or a winter in Florida, or whatever your extravagance happens to be). Or another popular self-reproaching sport is bragging about your bad temper, and then excusing yourself by saying that it was probably inherited from your father. I rather suspect that many of us enjoy indulging in this kind of self-centered public display. The first question the seriously aspiring Christian should put to him- or herself is: "How large a part do I occupy in my own consciousness?" (Someone has cleverly said that a person who is completely wrapped up in himself makes a very small package.) If a person's thoughts, feelings, and daily activities center largely around self, it makes relatively little difference whether that person regards himself with favor or disfavor, whether he thinks of himself as the greatest of sinners, or as the greatest of saints. Either attitude probably tends to place the person in a more dominant or important position than the facts justify!I once heard a story of an evangelist who was urging the members of his audience to come forward, one by one, and publicly confess to his or her shortcomings. One lady is said to have come forward saying loudly, "Forgive me, Lord, I am the world's greatest sinner!" To which the evangelist is said to have replied, "That, I fear, Madam, is a gross exaggeration!" What is the answer? If a person ought not to be his or her own chief concern, what should one's chief concern be? Bearing in mind that we are not asked to ignore ourselves completely—which would be impossible anyway—our chief concern as Christians should be our part, as individuals, in the Lord's mission. To be a Christian is to believe that God has created us to share his life, and to do a part of his work. Our mission—yours and mine, as individuals—will forever be of immeasurably less significance than the Lord's mission; but it is intended to be the same in essence, and our mission should be as important to us as the Lord's was and is to Him.One of the distinctive things about Christianity is that its effect is not so much on the overall quality of our life, as such, as it is on the purposes being embodied in our daily life. Jesus himself was reproached by those who thought themselves to be particularly religious because they painstakingly observed all the religious rituals, while he seemed to live a life so little different from the ordinary. The Lord called attention to this sort of complaint when he said, "When the Son of man came, he ate and drank, and everyone said, 'Look at this man! He is a glutton and wine-drinker, a friend of tax collectors and other outcasts!'" And then Jesus concluded by saying, "God's wisdom, however, is shown to be true by its results." [Matthew 11:19] What these critics had failed to realize was that the Lord's standard of what was important and worthwhile was entirely different from theirs. Jesus' rule of thumb was: whatever will help me to be more effective in doing the work I came to do is good, for that reason alone; whatever will not further that work, is not good. Could we find a better motto for us today? This rule can be applied equally to our Christian obligations and to our worldly ambitions, to our seeking God's truth and to our search for earthly knowledge, to our concern for the quality of life of those less fortunate than ourselves, and to our desire for better physical comforts and enjoyments for ourselves. Our Christian faith forbids our regarding any self-seeking interest as a goal in itself, but at the same time urges us to look carefully at all the details of our lives—all our thoughts, all our desires, all our activities—in relationship to our Christian mission, as a group, and as individuals. And, our faith does not say, "Don't enjoy yourself!" But it does say, "Enjoy yourself with a purpose!" On that point, that is all it says; but it is enough. The reason it is enough is that this principle will affect our mental attitude more that it will our way of living. It also should help settle (at least in theory) such questions as the relationship of Christianity to qualities such as pride and humility, shyness and self-confidence. For many centuries people have wondered why on the one hand they have been taught to regard humility and modesty as great Christian virtues, whereas on the other hand most people who have made significant contributions to improving the state of life in the world have seemed to be lacking in these qualities. The fact is that being humble does not mean having a low opinion of one's own abilities, or thinking of oneself as a useless or especially sinful person. No, humility means simply recognizing that we can do nothing apart from God. To recognize this as a fact implies sufficient faith—sufficient confidence—that God will always give us as much strength and skill as we need at any given time, provided our intent is to use that skill and strength to do his work. And this, too, is self-denial. Perhaps an illustration will help make this clear. It is widely regarded that people who are self-confident will succeed at whatever they put their hand to. They may not consciously have faith in God, but in nearly every instance we find that these so-called self-confident people have in fact put their trust in something which they regarded as outside themselves. One such striking example is Napoleon, who is said to have trusted in his "destiny." And it was only when he lost faith in that "destiny" that he lost his powers of achievement. Or, a great artist may believe in his "genius," which some have regarded quite im personally as a sort of gift from heaven. Fritz Kreisler, for instance, once said, "I was born with music in my system ... it was a gift of providence. I did not acquire it. So I do not deserve any thanks for my music." Others have trusted in their knowledge, their experience, their tools. Some successful scientists have said they trust the laws of nature; while some famous judges have credited their success to legal precedents of the past. In each of these instances, the apparently self-confident person, so far as his confidence rested on something outside himself, was in fact practicing self-denial of a sort. But that fact, nevertheless, does not necessarily mean that the person's self-denial qualified as Christian self-denial. It is important for us to realize that many of the things which people have trusted in have offered them relatively insecure foundations for their life. For example, Napoleon's "destiny" forsook him; many precedents—not only in law, but in many areas of life—which had seemed firm and dependable for years, are now crumbling all around us. We have only to witness the far-ranging social revolutions going on today in many parts of the world. For instance, people in business who have not found what they thought they wanted by putting their trust in one or another economic school of thought often are prone to look around for a solution to their problems in another economic system or set of principles. Some have even blamed their failures on God, accusing him of treating them unfairly, while at the same time not realizing that their goals might have been entirely too self-centered. Thus they failed to see how unreasonable it would be to expect special favor from God to enable them to pursue a basically selfish life. There is, of course, no easy answer—no universally applicable rule that can be applied to all situations in life. But there is one thing of which we can always be sure, and that is that only God and his laws can be fully trusted. But along with this we need to realize that even God can be trusted only to fulfill his own infinite purposes. Thus, our failures, of whatever nature, should teach us to ask humbly whether the cause of our failures may be that although we have sincerely been pursuing a course which seemed to us to be right and good, we may have been misguided. No one of us can ever be sure of knowing consistently, under all circumstances, what is right and good in the sight of God. So when we have done our best—the best that we know—and things still do not seem to be going the way we had hoped they would, it is precisely then that we need to see the wisdom of saying in prayer, even of our deepest hopes, "Not my will, but yours be done." [Luke 22:42] This is without question the hardest form of self-denial. The constructive nature of true self-denial may perhaps best be seen in the field of creative originality. Perhaps we have experienced how futile it is to try to be "original" or "clever." Such efforts usually are self-defeating and tend to fall flat. Creative originality comes from the desire to do a piece of work, or to express a vision, in the best way, even though it may not necessarily be a new way. For when the successful completion of a task is of greater importance to the person than "being original," this person is truly denying self. And in doing a thing in what seems to the person to be simply the best way to do the job, to others it may be seen as distinctive and creative and original. This person, in short, has put the task above himself. And in doing so has been able to draw on strength and wisdom that he perhaps did not know he had. And, again, people are likely to label this as "genius." Perhaps it is in one sense. But in Christian terms it can really be self-denial, especially if we willingly and sincerely give to God the glory for whatever talents we may happen to have. And the paradoxical wonder of it all is that in denying ourselves in order to let the Lord provide for our shortcomings, we end up the richer. Our text from Matthew continues, "For whoever wants to save his own life will lose it; but whoever loses his life for my sake will find it." [16:25] Instead of involving loss of personality and freedom, Christian self-denial releases and strengthens all of our personal potentials. The more sincerely a person acknowledges that all that he is and has is the Lord's, the more fully that person appears to himself to be free and independent.