Counting the Cost

Several months ago, Jill and I bought a new computer for our home. I was looking forward to it--at first. When the man from DHL dropped off the boxes on our front porch, I hefted them into the house and ripped into them like a child on Christmas morn. And for the first, say, thirty seconds, it was great fun.

But then reality hit. Soon, I was up to my neck in cords and manuals and speakers and video cards and virus software. Now understand--it's not that a Luddite (at least not that much of one). I can handle some basic computer set-up without injuring myself or anybody else. The trouble is that I am not a patient person. I wanted to be surfing the Internet and organizing my check book and cropping my photos--I wanted my computer--and I wanted it now. As I looked at the mess of the cords, I couldn't help but mutter under my breath. Why did it have to be so complicated? Why did it have to take so long?*

Forty minutes later--with cardboard boxes and broken bits of Styrofoam now cluttering my office--I finally turned the machine on. I rubbed my hands together and sat on the edge of my seat as the little machine began to purr for the first time. I was ready to go. And I figured that the new computer would be as well.

Of course, it was not. Once I got my initial log-in screen set up, I was greeted by what seemed like a ridiculous number (dozens? hundreds? thousands?) of user agreements. Windows XP. Microsoft Office. Norton Antivirus. Qwest Internet. Microsoft Live. Dell Customer Support. Picasa Photo. iTunes Music. All of them demanded that I check a box indicating that I had read and agreed with their fifty page user agreement. Which I, of course, did not do.

At least not the reading part. I checked the box and signed on whatever line they indicated--but there was no way I was going to read all that legal jargon. I was ready to get to work (and play); ready to enjoy the benefits of my new machine. Terms and conditions could wait for another day.

Afterwards, it occurred to me that I had taken a risk by skipping the fine print. The folks at Microsoft and Qwest and Norton could have slipped all sorts of fees in--and I would have been none the wiser (until a bill showed up in my inbox). I assumed I knew what I was getting into when I checked the box and signed on the line--but the truth is that I had no clue.

I wonder we have the same tendency as Christians--to check the box and sign on the line for Jesus--and never really slow down to consider (or share) what the cost might be. At least that was my thought while reading some of the lectionary passages for this week. In one (Mark 1:4-13), Jesus--freshly anointed with the Holy Spirit and heralded as God's own beloved Son--is driven out into the wilderness where he receives no food for forty days and there is no one to keep him company but wild animals (and eventually, the Devil). In another (2 Corinthians 11), Paul rattles of his resume--which includes prison, severe floggings, lashes, beatings with rods, stonings, shipwrecks and other "dangers" (the word is used eight times in a few verses). Put the two together (and toss in a few other quotes by Jesus) and it's hard to dodge the conclusion--Jesus didn't live an easy life, and those who follow him can't expect to either.

But it seems to me that's not something we like to talk about much. We'd rather skip all that (it's such a downer!) and talk about prosperity for the present and bliss for eternity. We'd rather focus on the benefits--some of them real, others not--and get people to check the box and sign on the dotted line. After all, if we really told people what they were getting into when they signed on with Jesus, who would bother? Wouldn't church attendance dwindle? Wouldn't evangelism inevitably fail? Why would people ever be drawn to a suffering Savior--especially when he might call them to suffer, too? As Paul himself says somewhere else, from where some folks are standing, it all sounds like foolishness.

But then again, honesty--counting the cost--may very well be the best policy here, too. Especially when one considers the alternative. The alternative (at least the one tried by nearly every generation) is to promise that Jesus will make a person healthy, wealthy, and wise. And though it sounds much more attractive, most people recognize it as the bill of goods that it is. Most people realize that that if something sounds too good to be true, it probably is.**

But if we were honest--even about the cost--maybe people would find our claims more compelling. If we tell others about the need to shoulder a cross--or better yet, show them how it's done--perhaps our claims of truth might seem gain new traction. After all, if the good news that we bring is so good that we think it's worth suffering for--it must deserve serious consideration.

*Friends have told me--repeatedly--that I should have shelled out the extra bucks for a Mac. Apparently, the fine folks at Apple include Fairy Godmother who waves her magic wand and makes everything work perfectly in the blink of an eye.
**The note able exception being the gospel of grace, of course.