The Cost of Responding to Divine Love (Sermon 9.7.25)

Several weeks ago, Donald J. Trump told the hosts of his favorite morning talk show, Fox and Friends, “I want to try and get to heaven, if possible.”

Trump made these comments while discussing his motivations for attempting to broker an end to Russia’s war in Ukraine. He continued by joking, "I’m hearing I’m not doing well — I’m really at the bottom of the totem pole."

A reporter at the New York Times called the moment "soul-searchingly self-deprecating," noting how rare it is for Trump to publicly acknowledge his own mortality.

Trump's confession, regardless of how unserious, was surreal to hear. This is someone who so often presents himself as though he were God’s own Messiah. By his own account, everything he touches is the biggest, the best, the most beautiful.

But this is so far from the truth. 

Trump lies constantly. He makes people’s lives harder--most especially the poor, immigrants, and trans folks. He speaks in unusually cruel and callous ways. He rules not by justice or mercy, or even strategy, but by whim and appetite—by greed, by pride, by self-interest. 

And so this candid admission that he is “not doing well” in terms of getting into heaven was for this pastor… frustrating. 

I found myself agreeing with our President. You’re right, Donald! You’re doing terribly! There is no way you are getting in! And no blowhard lie about how much you’ve helped the people of Ukraine is going to change that! 

But my own response didn’t sit right with me. 

First and foremost, because I do not believe in this familiar schema of heaven and hell—the one plastered across those ‘83-FOR-TRUTH’ billboards. You know the kind: heaven is painted as a sunlit cloud, a reward for the faithful; and hell is imagined as leaping flames, an eternal torment for those who failed to believe or belong to the right church. The billboards ask sinisterly, where are you headed?

Framed this way, heaven and hell function as a system of reward and punishment—a divine carrot and stick meant to keep people in line and motivate good behavior. And usually, good behavior is defined by whatever authority held power at the time. 

At its core, this system feeds on fear: fear of being cast out, fear of eternal pain, fear that obedience alone would provide safety. Ultimately, it is a system that serves authority more than it opens us up to God’s Love and Redeeming Grace. 

This system also has little basis in Scripture, and so it should not be surprising that it has never been the only way Christians have imagined God’s judgment or the afterlife. 

For as long as we have spoken of a Christian tradition, there have been voices proclaiming that God’s ultimate purpose is universal salvation—that in the end, God’s redeeming love will draw all creation back to Godself. It is a tradition with many witnesses: the ancient theologians Origen and Gregory of Nyssa; the medieval mystic Julian of Norwich; and numerous twentieth-century voices from Protestant, Catholic, and Orthodox traditions. This ecumenical chorus proclaims that by the power of God’s boundless grace, no soul lies beyond the reach of Christ’s redeeming work. 

Rooted in the conviction that Divine Love is stronger and more persistent than human sin, this stream of thought understands judgment not as eternal rejection, but as the refining fire through which all are ultimately restored. 

I know it was with this same conviction that a group of pastors, many of whom I admire deeply, all of whom are far more seasoned and more gracious than I, wrote a letter to the President in response to recent comments. 

The Pastoral Letter to Donald J. Trump from the Red Letter Christians opens with these words: 

​​"Dear Donald,

We are pastors, addressing you here not by your title in the office of President of the United States, but by the name you bear as a sacred child of God.

We saw in the news last week that you said you “want to try to get to heaven if possible,” but that you are hearing you are “really at the bottom of the totem pole.” We’ve been pastors long enough to know that fear isn’t a sustaining motivation for spiritual growth, but it does get some people started – especially older people who’ve carefully avoided addressing their own mortality. 

They continue with this reminder: We all die, and before we meet our Maker, we each have the opportunity to receive the free gift of grace that makes all things new. We want you to know that gift today – both for your sake and the sake of the whole world that is subject to the consequences of your actions." 

These pastors wrote honestly and prophetically about the fear Donald lies have caused, and the harm inflicted by his administration’s policies: "You have targeted people with words and policies that have made their lives a living hell. Immigrants worry if they will be separated from their families. People in nursing homes worry if they will be put out on the street. Former political allies live in fear that you will turn a mob against them with a social media post..."

They recalled for him Jesus’ words: "You shall know the truth, and the truth will set you free.”

Now the truth can be difficult for any of us, but it is especially difficult when one’s political power depends on lies. 

Lies about stolen elections. 

Lies about criminal invasions to justify deploying the US military in American cities. 

Lies about “waste, fraud, and abuse” to strip healthcare from millions of Americans and food from the mouths of the world's hungry. 

Lies about the wealth he and his family have accrued thanks to his powerful position in the US government.   

But while grace is God's free gift to all, it compels us to respond.

The freedom Trump seeks, which is what I think his desire for heaven signifies, does not come without cost. 

This freedom will cost him the truth. It will cost him power. It will cost him his personal vendettas and compulsive lying. It will cost him the endless pursuit of wealth. It will cost him the family empire to which he clings.

The cost of this choice is fundamentally what Jesus is telling us about in today’s Gospel passage. 

Jesus' harsh words are a warning to his followers, who are many at this point in his ministry. Already these disciples have sacrificed much, leaving behind their families and homes, to travel from village to village proclaiming the Gospel. 

But now, as they make their way towards Jerusalem, it is becoming clearer that Jesus and his followers face real danger. As he turns towards the cross, Jesus warns the large crowds that their devotion to Jesus’s mission must be as complete as his own. 

"Whoever comes to me and does not hate father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters… cannot be my disciple. (Luke 14:26)."

Now this might raise some questions for some of us. Jesus’ own love ethic makes it unthinkable that he would call us to hate our families—even in the midst of difficult relationships. It simply doesn’t sound like Jesus to encourage hatred.

The challenge of interpreting this passage raises a core question about how to responsibly read Scripture. Too often, even those of us who take the Bible seriously, not literally, can still make the mistake of taking such a passage at face value.

I sometimes call this my “inner fundamentalist." I still hear that small voice often, because it was the first way I was ever taught to read scripture.

When we read scripture literally, we end up with a couple of options.

First, we can try to follow it literally. I’ve seen this play out when people cut off family members who aren’t Christian, or who simply believe differently than they do. They act as border agents dividing those who are “in” from those who are “out.”

Perhaps some of us have even felt the sting of that kind of judgment in our own families?

Second, we can reject the passage and our literal reading outright—ignore it, chalk it up to an extremist agenda, or simply move on to focus on the cozier parts of the Jesus story. Some will also reject the whole thing: Jesus, discipleship, all of it. 

In a world filled with so much hate, manipulation, and religious control, that response can make a lot of sense.

But these are not our only two options. 

Taken literally, this passage makes Jesus sound cruel. But here Jesus is using hyperbole to make his point. In American culture, we often use hyperbole to express enthusiasm or add “linguistic sizzle.” In ancient Semitic cultures, hyperbole was used to exaggerate a contrast in order to make its meaning clearer.

Here, Jesus is not calling us to despise our families, but to recognize that even our most sacred relationships cannot outrank our commitment to Divine Love.

This is not because Jesus or God is a jealous or greedy jerk. It is because our families, like governments, churches, and all human institutions, are made of human beings. Human beings who are flawed—prone to misdeeds themselves, or to enabling others in wrongdoing.

I think that Donald Trump and the MAGA movement illustrate this point better than any sermon could.

The widespread enabling of misdeeds and untruth, greed and cruelty, by institutions, by families, by our nation. This is why so many of our families have been rocked by our political disagreements. Our families are not inherently a bulwark against wrongdoing or evil. Sometimes the threat comes from inside the house.

...

Following Jesus. The Way of Truth. The Prince of Peace. It costs us. 

It costs us the comfort of just “keeping the peace.” 

It costs us the comfort of staying silent. 

It costs us the comfort of smug self-righteous resignation.   

It costs us the comfort of remaining indifferent to injustice. 

Discipleship costs us. 

I read in a commentary this past week that the two parables that conclude this passage might aptly be titled, “Fool as Work and at War.” Sounds like a news headline for today.

Jesus tells both stories to illustrate this simple observation. A prudent person would not begin a project without first making sure it can be completed. A man would not lay the foundation for a tower unless he was sure he could finish it. A king would not go to war unless he had enough soldiers to resist the opposing force. 

The subtle message here may point to something bigger, something encouraging and hopeful for those disciples gathered around Jesus, then and now.

Jesus does not pursue his mission without being prepared to see it through. We can be assured that God does not enter into a redemptive process without being prepared to complete it. This is why I believe that ultimately, ultimately, we will encounter Donald in heaven, no matter what that looks like.  

…. 

Christ needs disciples, those who are willing to walk in solidarity alongside him as he journeys to the cross.  People who will cast away our comforts and attachments to participate in his counter-cultural revolution of love and justice. People who will act as members of God’s family in a time of Empire. People who will wage peace in a time of war.  

Disciples are not asked to forsake everything for the sake of nothing. Disciples are asked to forsake false attachments--so that we may walk freely in the way of Divine Love. 

A week after Donald Trump's appearance on Fox & Friends, his campaign sent out another one of their endless fundraising email, requesting that supporters give $15 now! 

The message references the alleged assassination attempt against Trump in July 2024, before launching into this declaration: "I believe that God saved me for one reason: TO MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! I certainly wasn't supposed to survive an assassin's bullet, but by the grace of Almighty God, I did. SO NOW, I have no other choice but to answer the Call to Duty. But I can’t do it alone."

The subject line of the email read, "I want to try and get to Heaven." 

Clearly, the spine of Trump’s own self-branded Bible remains uncracked, and his heart remained steadfast in his familiar, comfortable ways.  

The Pastoral Letter to Donald J. Trump closes with these words:

"We do not have a heaven or hell to put anyone in, but we know the Way that leads to life, and we know that anyone who is serious about discipling themselves to this Way can experience transformation.

That road is not easy, but it is a gift. And if you are earnest about your desire to get to heaven, we would be glad to meet with you to talk about it. If repentance is true, then freedom can begin whenever you’re willing to embrace the truth. This is why St. Catherine said, “All the way to heaven is heaven because Jesus said, ‘I am the Way.’”

Friends, Jesus instructs us to take up the cross today. Discipleship costs us. It costs our comfort, our certainty, our self-interest. It demands that we confront the cruelties of this world, the callousness that hardens hearts, and respond with faithfulness, with humility, and with love.

And today, on a day that we gather to rejoice in the gift of community, we can thank God that we do not walk the Way alone. Thanks be to God!

Sermon preached by Rev. Delaney Piper on 9.7.25