“The Cost of Discipleship.” This is a famous book that Dietrich Bonhoeffer wrote, so I’m utilizing that title, and I’m coming at it a little bit differently with you this morning. I’m coming at the cost of discipleship this way. I have a five-word sermon. I’m going to say more than the five-word sermon. But I have a five-word sermon that I’m asking you to remember for the rest of your life, so you might want to write it down. When I sense that everyone in the room has got it, then I’ll stop. The five-word sermon is this – God becomes visible through us. God becomes visible through us. This is an incredible calling. I’m going to offer up the possibility that that is the cost of our discipleship, that for the rest of our time, every blessed moment of our lives, God becomes visible through us. This changes everything. And, I think we can push the envelope and say because God becomes visible through us – OK, I’m ready. I’m not grounded here, but I’m going to go say it anyway. I’m looking up for the lightning. God needs us as much as we need God. Now, I would get in trouble in some congregations for saying that, and that’s fine. God becomes visible through us. If we deny our calling as disciples of Christ, we deny the existence of God through us.

At the very beginning of John, he has this wonderful prologue — in the beginning was the word, and the word was with God, and the word was God, and everything was made through him. There was not anything made that was not made through him. And that which was coming into the world was life, and this life was the light of all people. The light shines in the darkness and the darkness does not overcome it. There was a man sent from God whose name was John. He himself was not the light, but he came to bear witness to the light and to all who believe. All who believe in the power of his name, to them. he gives the power to become what? Anyone remember? (Someone in the congregation says, “a child of God.”) Right. After all that, and that beautiful prologue, now John comes to the point and says if we believe all this stuff – translate here – if we believe all of this. then God would give us the power to rule the world! No. The power to become a child. This is a unique comment. Did you hear it this morning when John says that Jesus calls these men up? And there were obviously women disciples as well. He calls these adult men and women, what does he call them? Children. Amazing. God becomes visible through us.

So, Jesus, reported by John, says, “I’ve got some new stuff for you. It’s a new commandment.” If you go up to a Jew and say, “I’ve got a commandment for you,” their ears are going to be perked up. A commandment? Hey, we’re talking Moses. Last week, I brought a staff, and it really went to my head all week because one of you said it reminded you of Moses. I was holding my dad’s shepherd staff. Wow, Moses. We’re talking Moses, we’re talking ten commandments, and Jesus says, “I’ve got a new commandment for you.” A new commandment? Who has the authority to do new commandments? Love one another, as I have loved you. Keeping this new commandment is the identifying mark of discipleship. It’s the cause of discipleship. And God becomes visible through us.

I have a story I’m going to share with you this morning. I’ve shared stories from this book before — “I Thought My Father was God: And Other True Tales from NPR’s National Story Project.” A few years ago now, National Public Radio sent out an invitation to people like you and me to write a story from your life. Thousands of people did it, and the people at NPR were incredibly inspired. They put a lot of them in this book. This story is called “A Gift of Gold,” and it was sent in by John Keith of San Jose, California. The setting is when John was a child growing up in New York City during the Depression. And what’s our five-word sermon today? Remember? God becomes visible through us. The title of this story is “A Gift of Gold.”

“It was the winter of 1937, just after Christmas. The Depression was still going on, but I was in good spirits. At the end of January, I was going to graduate from elementary school. I was just 12, youngerthan all the other boys in my class and much smaller. My mother still dressed me in shorts, and when the cold weather came, I wore woolen knickers and knee-high socks.” … By the way, my father was born in 1933, and I’ve got a picture of him wearing knickers as a little boy. … “I wore woolen knickers and knee-high socks. Most of my classmates had given up wearing shorts, but even though they were older and taller than I was, they still wore knickers. Only a couple of the taller, 14-year-old fellows had moved on to long pants. However, for the graduation ceremony all the boys were expected to dress the same way. They were supposed to wear white shirts, navy blue, knitted ties, and dark blue, wool serge pants. When I asked one or two of the knicker kids what they were going to do, they said that they were going to show up on graduation day wearing long pants. I waited until a week before graduation before I told my mother. I figured I’d better break the news to her as gently as I could. I remembered that it was a cold Monday afternoon. I had come home from school after crunching my way over the treacherous streets and crosswalk. There were deep ruts and tracks cut into the thick layers of melted and refrozen snow. Inside the house, it felt warm and comforting. I put my heavy coat away in the hall closet, all the while inhaling the tantalizing smell of fish being fried and buttered. I went into the kitchen for a glass of milk, one of the few luxuries of life in our house. ‘Boy, Mom,’ I said, ‘that smells good. I love fish.’” … What did some of those disciples do before they became disciples? … “‘Don’t start bothering me for some now,’ she said, ‘the way you always do. Remember, if you have some now you won’t get your share at dinner.’ This was a little game we played, always with the same result. I would pester her until she swore that I was driving her to distraction. Then she’d give in and let me have a generous sample.” … So what’s our five-word sermon? God becomes visible through us. … “This time, I didn’t put the game in motion. ‘Mom,’ I said, ‘about graduation.’ ‘Yes,’ she answered, shuffling the skillet on the burner. ‘They’re going to give me the first-prize medal,’ I said. Still working over the stove, she looked over her shoulder at me and smiled broadly. ‘That’s wonderful, babe. Dad and I will both be there and we’ll be the proudest parents in the place.’ She must have seen by the look on my face that something was wrong. She turned her back to the stove and said, ‘So?’ ‘So I have to get long pants,” I said. It didn’t take long to get the answer I expected. ‘Babe, we don’t have the money for new pants right now,’ she said very quietly. ‘You know that.’ ‘OK,’ I burst out, ‘then I won’t go to graduation. Plus I’m running away from home.’ I waited. My mother shook the pan several times and then turned over the pieces of fish one by one. It was very quiet except for the sound of melted butter sizzling in the pan. She turned to me. Her outstretched hand held a spatula on which she had balanced a golden piece of sautéed fish. ‘There,’ she said, ‘cut one of the rolls on the table and make yourself a nice fish sandwich.’ … The feeding of the 5,000. What did Jesus and the disciples use? Fish and bread. … “‘Make yourself a nice fish sandwich and if I were you, I wouldn’t pack my bags just yet to run away from home. We’ll solve the pants problem somehow.’ My mother watched me make the sandwich. She continued to watch me eat it, obviously amused by the way each bite was accompanied by moans of delight. ‘That will hold you,’ she said. The following Saturday when my mother said, ‘Let’s go shopping,’ I knew that she had solved the problem. Mid-morning, we bumped up against the bitter cold that had settled over the city and took the trolley that ran along Westchester Avenue. We got off at Southern Boulevard, the best shopping street in the East Bronx. Our clothing store was just a couple of blocks away. We had been getting my pants there from Mr. Zenger ever since I could remember. I liked Mr. Zenger, and I enjoyed hearing him say, as he always did, ‘Trust me, sonny, I’ll give you the best and with those pants you’ll look like a million dollars.’ But first we walked a short way down the boulevard and stopped at a place I had never noticed before. My mother said, ‘Wait here.’ She opened the door and entered a storefront that looked a little like a bank. I read the sign over the door. The sign said, ‘Home, Thrift and Loan.’ She came out about 10 minutes later and we went to the pants store. There Mr. Zenger fitted me with what was surely the greatest pair of 100 percent, pure wool, navy blue serge trousers ever to be had in the whole world. The new trousers were wrapped up in brown paper but tied with a string. I was holding the package tightly under my arm when my mother went to pay Mr. Zenger. I saw her take a tiny, brown envelope from her purse, tear back the seal flap, and remove the contents. There were four, brand new one-dollar bills inside. She carefully unfolded them and handed them to Mr. Zenger. He rang up the sale and gave my mother 50 cents change. Sitting next to my mother on the trolley, I had the window seat and looked out for most of the ride. About halfway home, there wasn’t much to look at, rattling over the Bronx River Bridge, and as I shifted around in my seat and faced forward, I glanced down at my mother’s hands, folded against her purse, which was resting on her lap. It was then I saw the plain gold wedding band that had always circled the ring finger on her left hand was no longer there.” … What’s that five-word sermon? God becomes visible through us. Amen? Amen.