What is the most important thing in your life?
If someone watched your life for a month—not listened to your words, but watched your choices—what would they say?
Your family? Your work? Your hobbies? Your comfort? Your phone?
Your ambitions?
Jesus asks exactly that question today.
And His answer is unsettling.
“Whoever does not bear his own cross and come after me cannot be my disciple.”
Not may not.
Not should not.
Cannot.
Our Lord never lowered the cost of discipleship in order to gain more followers.
Notice when Jesus says these words.
St Luke tells us that “great crowds accompanied him.”
If this were a modern marketing campaign, this was the moment to encourage them.
To make things easier.
To avoid difficult subjects.
Instead, Jesus does the opposite.
He turns to the crowd and speaks about sacrifice.
About carrying the cross.
About renouncing everything.
He would rather have twelve committed disciples than thousands of half-hearted admirers.
The Church must never forget that.
Our task is not to make Christianity easier.
Our task is to preach Christ faithfully.
Some people think that becoming a Christian means adding Jesus to an already busy life.
Like another app on a phone.
Useful when needed.
Ignored the rest of the time.
But Jesus refuses to be one priority among many.
He must become the centre from which everything else finds its proper place.
When Our Lord says that we must “hate” father and mother, wife and children, even our own life, He is using the strong language familiar to the Jews. He is not commanding hatred. The Fourth Commandment still stands. Rather, He means that every other love must come after our love for God.
If Christ is not first, eventually something else becomes our god.
Think of the spokes of a bicycle wheel.
Every spoke reaches the centre.
If the centre is secure, the whole wheel is strong.
But remove the hub, and every spoke collapses.
So it is with our lives.
When Christ is truly at the centre, we become better husbands and wives.
Better parents. Better priests. Better friends.
Not because we love others less.
But because we love them in God.
Jesus gives two illustrations.
A man building a tower.
A king preparing for battle.
Both stop first and count the cost.
No sensible person begins without asking whether he can finish.
Our Lord is saying that the Christian life requires decision.
Not emotion.
Not enthusiasm.
Decision.
Many people begin Lent enthusiastically.
Many make New Year’s resolutions.
Many promise to pray more.
The difficulty is not beginning.
The difficulty is persevering.
St Ignatius of Loyola understood this perhaps better than anyone.
As a young man he dreamed of military glory.
He wanted honour.
Success.
Recognition.
Then a cannonball shattered his leg during the defence of Pamplona.
Lying in bed for months, unable to live the life he had planned, he asked for books about knights.
None were available.
Instead he was given a Life of Christ and the lives of the saints.
As he read, something remarkable happened.
He noticed that worldly dreams excited him for a moment but left him empty afterwards.
Thinking about Christ and the saints brought a deeper and lasting peace.
That simple observation changed his life.
He realised there are two kinds of joy.
One burns brightly and quickly disappears.
The other grows quietly because it comes from God.
He chose the second.
The ambitious soldier became a soldier of Christ.
That is a lesson our culture desperately needs.
We are surrounded by things that promise happiness.
The next purchase. The next holiday. The next promotion. The next relationship.
The next achievement.
There is nothing wrong with these things in themselves.
But they cannot satisfy the human heart.
St Augustine was right:
“Our hearts are restless until they rest in You.”
Only Christ can fill the heart He created.
St Paul gives us the key in the first reading.
“Whether you eat or drink, or whatever you do, do all to the glory of God.”
Notice how practical that is.
He does not speak only about prayer.
Or worship.
Or miracles.
He speaks about eating and drinking.
Even the ordinary parts of life can become acts of worship.
Changing a nappy.
Preparing a meal.
Driving to work.
Caring for an elderly parent.
Studying for an exam.
If they are done with love for God, they become holy.
Holiness is not escaping ordinary life.
It is filling ordinary life with the love of Christ.
Ignatius later developed what he called the Examen.
At the end of each day he encouraged Christians to pause for a few minutes and ask:
Where did I notice God’s grace today?
Where did I resist Him?
Where do I need His mercy?
It is a profoundly Catholic practice because it forms the conscience.
It keeps us honest.
It reminds us that the Christian life is lived one day at a time.
One decision at a time.
One act of fidelity at a time.
Our Lord finishes with words that are impossible to water down.
“Whoever of you does not renounce all that he has cannot be my disciple.”
He is not commanding every Christian to take a vow of poverty.
He is commanding every Christian to hold everything lightly.
Your possessions belong to God.
Your talents belong to God.
Your time belongs to God.
Even your life belongs to God.
We are not owners.
We are stewards.
And one day we shall give an account of how we used what He entrusted to us.
The good news is this.
Christ never asks us to give up something without giving something infinitely greater.
Ignatius surrendered his dream of becoming a famous soldier.
Today the world barely remembers the generals of his age.
But millions still know the name of St Ignatius because he gave his life to Christ.
That is always the Christian paradox.
The world says, “Keep everything.”
Jesus says, “Give everything.”
The world promises much and leaves us empty.
Christ asks for everything and gives us eternal life.
So today let us ask St Ignatius to obtain for us the courage to count the cost honestly, to place Christ above every earthly attachment, and to follow Him with an undivided heart.
For there is no greater adventure, no greater freedom, and no greater glory than to belong entirely to Jesus Christ.
St. Mary's, St. John Bosco and St. Edward's 