“If anyone comes to me without hating his father and mother,
wife and children, brothers and sisters,
and even his own life,
he cannot be my disciple.
Whoever does not carry his own cross and come after me
cannot be my disciple.
...anyone of you who does not renounce all his possessions
cannot be my disciple.”
I like a challenge. Especially if it is difficult, complex, or improbable to complete, I get more excited. Naysayers increase my resolve and I relish success against the odds. I was not a hard young man and a high school classmate, upon hearing that I accepted an appointment to the Air Force Academy, predicted that I wouldn’t make it. He came extremely close to being right! I almost didn’t make it, multiple times. On my worst days, when I felt like giving up, I would recall his words and, among other and better motivations, would make it for one more day, or sometimes just one more hour. I can be resilient and resolute, almost to the point of tenacity, when unexpected challenges arise. It may have been from my grandma that I first heard the old saying, “Anything worth doing is worth doing right.” My grandfather had owned his own business, a number of times, and of my dad’s 10 brothers and sisters, seven of them have had some foray into entrepreneurialism. I came up with my first idea for my own company when I was 16 and, technically, I have been self employed three times (only once did it pay the bills). Risk and opportunity must release endorphins in my brain.
At the same time, I am a perfectionist. I fear failure or being seen as a failure. I don’t like to lose, forfeit, start over, or apologize. My mom was pregnant three times after I was born premature and two of my brothers, Bradley and Patrick, also born premature, died shortly after birth. My third brother died in a late miscarriage. When my dad sat me down at seven years old to tell me that he and my mom were getting a divorce, he said, “If your brothers had lived, we probably wouldn’t be getting divorced.” While likely true and certainly understandable, I internalized that to mean I wasn’t good enough and that I needed to fulfill the expectations for four sons. I eventually took the path of achievement, success, and perfection to deal with the pain. One of the hardest things I have learned to do is preach without notes. I owe it to my grandmother, who said to me early on in my priesthood, “If you can’t remember your homily, how do you expect us to?” But, it was not, and still is not exactly, easy to do. I recall the saying attributed to Abraham Lincoln (as is almost every saying), “Better to keep your mouth shut and be thought a fool than to open it and remove all doubt.” Preaching without notes reminds me every week that I’m not perfect and my imperfection is there for everyone to see.
Through hard work, spiritual direction, prayer, and grace, I have grown more prudent and discerning in facing challenges and more self accepting of my limitations and imperfections. There is something, however, in Jesus’s call to discipleship and, especially, in the absolute lack of equivocation of today’s gospel that appeals to my younger desire for challenge and perfection. There’s no room to wiggle out of it: following Jesus takes all we got. We must count the cost. It doesn’t come cheap. We must die to ourselves to live in him. It goes deeper, however, than just that. First, God loves us without limit. We cannot sort of, half-heartedly, or lukewarmly love God in return: love is not like that. Second, we don’t follow Jesus simply by our own strength. The Holy Spirit draws us and empowers us. Third, it is about letting go and surrender. We cooperate with the work that God is doing in us. Fourth, it is a journey. We start from where we are and keep going and growing. Fifth, God’s mercy never fails. Our failures are not an end, but a new beginning. Finally, for now, it is all grace. Our origin, our destiny, and every step between are from and with God. So, count the cost, but remember the price has already been paid.