Commentary - Luke 9:57-62

Bird's-eye view

In this brief but potent series of encounters, Luke presents us with three would-be disciples, each of whom expresses a desire to follow Jesus, but each on his own terms. Jesus, having set His face like flint toward Jerusalem and the cross, uses these interactions to lay bare the radical and uncompromising nature of true discipleship. This is not a recruitment drive for casual volunteers; it is a king summoning subjects to a costly war. The central theme is the absolute priority of the kingdom of God over all other earthly comforts, obligations, and affections. Jesus counters impulsive enthusiasm with the reality of homelessness, confronts familial duty with the urgency of gospel proclamation, and challenges wavering commitment with a stark warning about fitness for the kingdom. These are hard sayings, designed to filter out the half-hearted and to fortify the faithful for the difficult road ahead. They serve as a permanent acid test for all who would claim the name of Christ.

What we have here are three examples of what discipleship is not. It is not a romantic adventure. It is not something that can be fitted in around our other, more respectable duties. And it is not a project we can undertake with one eye on the past. The call of Christ is total, immediate, and exclusive. He does not ask for a prominent place in our lives; He demands the throne. These three men are not rebuked for wanting bad things, comfort, family, home, but for wanting good things more than the best thing, which is Christ Himself and the advance of His kingdom.

Outline

Context In Luke

This passage comes at a pivotal moment in Luke's Gospel. Just before this, in verse 51, we are told that "the days drew near for him to be taken up," and that Jesus "set his face to go to Jerusalem." This is the beginning of the long travel narrative that will dominate the rest of the Gospel, a journey to the cross. Jesus is on a death march, a willing sacrifice heading to the altar. It is in this context of resolute, sacrificial determination that these three conversations occur. The shadow of the cross looms over every word. Furthermore, Jesus has just been rejected by a Samaritan village (Luke 9:51-56), demonstrating the hostility of the world to His kingship. The cost of discipleship is therefore not an abstract concept; it is being lived out by Jesus in real time. He is calling men to follow Him on a path of rejection, hardship, and ultimately, death and resurrection. The demands He makes of these men are simply the demands He has already placed upon Himself.

Key Issues

No Fine Print

When the Lord Jesus calls men to follow Him, He does not obscure the cost. He is not a modern salesman trying to get a signature on the dotted line before the customer realizes what he has agreed to. The contract is written in bold letters, and the cost is printed at the top, not buried in the footnotes. Here we have three men who approach Jesus, and to each one, the Lord presents the unvarnished reality of what it means to be His disciple. There is an enthusiasm that must be tempered with the reality of hardship, a legitimate duty that must be subordinated to a divine commission, and a fond affection that must not become a backward glance. In all three cases, the issue is lordship. Who sets the terms? Who defines the priorities? Is Jesus a valuable addition to our lives, or is He life itself? The answers He gives are designed to force this question into the open. Following Jesus is not an amendment to your life's constitution; it is a complete repeal and replacement.

Verse by Verse Commentary

57 And as they were going along the road, someone said to Him, “I will follow You wherever You go.”

Here we have a volunteer. He appears eager, zealous, and absolute in his commitment. "Wherever You go," he says. This is the language of total devotion, the kind of thing a soldier says to a beloved general. On the surface, it is a commendable declaration. He is not trying to bargain or set conditions. He is making a bold, sweeping promise. But the Lord, who knows the hearts of men, sees beneath the surface of this verbal enthusiasm. He knows that it is one thing to say such a thing in a moment of inspiration and quite another to live it out on the hard, dusty road of discipleship.

58 And Jesus said to him, “The foxes have holes and the birds of the air have nests, but the Son of Man has nowhere to lay His head.”

Jesus does not say, "Welcome aboard." He responds not by questioning the man's sincerity, but by testing his understanding. He gives him a dose of hard reality. Even wild animals have a place to call home, a place of shelter and rest. Foxes have their dens, birds have their nests. But the Son of Man, the incarnate King of the universe, is a homeless wanderer. He has no fixed address, no earthly security, no place to rest His head. This is a statement of fact about His itinerant ministry, but it is also a profound theological statement. He has emptied Himself of heavenly glory and has embraced a life of total dependence and vulnerability. The point for the would-be disciple is this: "Are you truly ready to follow me wherever I go? Because where I go is the path of homelessness, rejection, and radical insecurity. The cost of following me is the surrender of all earthly comfort."

59 And He said to another, “Follow Me.” But he said, “Lord, permit me first to go and bury my father.”

The dynamic shifts here. Jesus takes the initiative and calls a man directly. The man's response is respectful; he calls Jesus "Lord." But he immediately introduces a condition, a prior obligation. "Permit me first." That word "first" is the key. He wants to follow, but not yet. He has a deeply important family duty to attend to. In that culture, burying one's father was a sacred responsibility, the highest of filial duties. It is very possible his father was not even dead yet, but was elderly, and the man was asking for an indefinite leave of absence until his father passed away and the estate was settled. He was asking Jesus to put the kingdom on hold until his personal affairs were in order.

60 But He said to him, “Allow the dead to bury their own dead; but as for you, go and proclaim everywhere the kingdom of God.”

This is one of the most jarring statements Jesus ever made. It seems harsh, even callous. But it is a calculated shock, intended to reveal a foundational truth. Jesus is drawing a sharp line between two realms. There are the spiritually dead, those who are part of the old world order, whose lives are defined by natural obligations and earthly timelines. Let them be occupied with the affairs of death. But for you, one who has been called by the Lord of Life, your business is life. Your business is the kingdom of God. The proclamation of the gospel is so urgent, so cosmically important, that it takes precedence even over the most sacred of human duties. Jesus is not abolishing the fifth commandment; He is establishing His own authority as absolute. When the King issues a direct command, all other loyalties become secondary. The spiritually dead can handle the affairs of the physically dead. The spiritually alive must be about the business of proclaiming the kingdom of life.

61 Another also said, “I will follow You, Lord, but first permit me to say farewell to those at home.”

Here is a third man, another volunteer. Like the second man, he calls Jesus "Lord" and wants to follow, but he also has a "but first." His request seems entirely reasonable, even more so than the previous one. He just wants to go home and say goodbye. This echoes the request Elisha made to Elijah in 1 Kings 19:20, which was granted. Surely this is a small thing, a matter of common courtesy and affection. It is a good and right desire to show love and respect to one's family. But again, the issue is one of ultimate priority. The desire, though good in itself, represents a divided heart. His feet want to go forward with Jesus, but his heart is still tethered to the home he is leaving behind.

62 But Jesus said to him, “No one, after putting his hand to the plow and looking back, is fit for the kingdom of God.”

Jesus responds with a powerful agricultural image. A plowman, to cut a straight furrow, must fix his gaze on a point in the distance and not look back. If he looks back, his shoulders will turn, the plow will swerve, and the row will be crooked and useless. The work requires forward-looking concentration. So it is with the kingdom of God. Discipleship requires a decisive break with the past and a resolute focus on the future. The backward glance, even if motivated by affection, is a sign of a divided loyalty. It reveals a longing for the old life that disqualifies one for the new. To be "fit for the kingdom" means to be useful, to be rightly ordered for the task. A nostalgic, half-hearted disciple is of no use in the demanding work of gospel advance. The call is to follow Christ with an undivided heart, leaving the past behind and straining forward to what lies ahead.

Application

These three encounters are a mirror for the church in every generation. We are constantly tempted to follow Christ on our own terms. We are like the first man when we want the glory of association with Christ without the grit of His homelessness and rejection. We want a comfortable Christianity, a faith that fits neatly into our suburban lifestyle. But Christ calls us to a radical detachment from worldly security.

We are like the second man when we allow good things, like family responsibilities or career obligations, to become ultimate things that delay our obedience. We say, "Lord, I will serve you with everything I have, just as soon as the kids are grown, the mortgage is paid, and the retirement account is funded." But Christ says the kingdom is now, and the spiritually dead are all around us. The proclamation of the gospel is the urgent business of the living, and it cannot wait.

We are like the third man when we want to follow Jesus but keep looking back wistfully at the life we left behind. We are tempted by nostalgia for our old sins, old comforts, and old allegiances. But Christ demands our full attention. The work of the kingdom requires that we put our hand to the plow and not look back. This does not mean we despise family or forsake all earthly joys. It means that Christ has reordered all our loves. We love our families most when we love Him more. We are most useful in this world when our gaze is fixed on the world to come. The call of the gospel is a call to leave the city of destruction, and we are warned not to look back, lest we too become pillars of salt.