Count the Cost

In a world that constantly offers shortcuts and easy paths, there's a message that cuts through the noise with uncomfortable clarity: following Jesus comes at a cost. Not a trivial cost. Not a convenient cost. But a cost that demands everything.
When Jesus spoke to the multitudes following Him, He didn't soften His message to increase His numbers. Instead, He did something radical—He told them exactly what discipleship would require. In Luke 14, He presents a startling demand: those who follow Him must love Him more than their own family members, even more than their own lives. This isn't about hatred in the conventional sense, but about priority—about placing Christ above every other relationship and attachment in our lives.

Make no mistake: we are living in wartime. While physical conflicts rage across the globe, an even more intense spiritual battle rages for the hearts and minds of this generation. The enemy isn't sleeping. He's well-funded, thoroughly organized, and working systematically to dismantle faith from the inside out.
Consider the sobering statistics: of over 33 million teenagers in America today, only 4% believe the Bible. Think about that for a moment. Imagine a society where 96% of the next generation has rejected the foundation of truth that built Western civilization. This isn't some distant future scenario—this is the world we're living in right now.
The enemy has infiltrated our educational systems, our government, and even our churches. While many sit comfortably in pews, ideologies completely contrary to Christian faith—including radical Islam and socialism—are making unprecedented inroads into American culture. Our children are being indoctrinated, and too many parents are shocked when their kids come home from college rejecting Israel, questioning God, and embracing worldviews they were never taught at home.
The truth is simple: if we're not actively teaching and discipling our children, someone else is.

Jesus gives us two powerful analogies about counting the cost. The first involves a man building a tower. Any sensible builder sits down first and calculates whether he has sufficient resources to complete the project. To start building without counting the cost leads to mockery and the shame of an unfinished monument to failure.
The second analogy involves a king preparing for battle. When facing an enemy with 20,000 soldiers while possessing only 10,000, a wise king doesn't rush into war. He consults with his advisors, weighs his options, and determines whether he can win—or whether he should seek terms of peace before it's too late.
These aren't random illustrations. Throughout Scripture, the life of faith is compared to both building and warfare. We are constructing something eternal, and we are engaged in a fierce battle. Both require careful consideration, total commitment, and the willingness to see it through to the end.

There's a common misconception about what it means to "take up your cross." Many people think their cross is their difficult spouse, their challenging job, or their health problems. But that's not what Jesus meant.
Your cross is what you lay aside because you belong to Christ. It's the partying you walk away from. The drinking you give up. The gossip you refuse to participate in. The entertainment you no longer consume. The relationships you must end because they pull you away from God. The lifestyle changes you make daily—not just on Sundays, but every single day.
Taking up your cross means biting your tongue when you want to curse. It means choosing righteousness when sin would be easier. It means standing alone when everyone else compromises. That's the cross—and it must be carried daily.

Jesus told a story about two builders. Both heard His words. Both built houses. Both faced the same storms—the same rain, the same floods, the same winds. But one house stood, and the other collapsed.
The difference? The foundation.
The wise builder constructed his house on solid rock. The foolish builder chose sand. When the storms came—and they always come—only the house on the rock remained standing.
We are all building our lives on one foundation or the other. The storms of life don't discriminate. Financial pressures, health crises, relationship struggles, and spiritual attacks come to everyone. Your survival doesn't depend on avoiding storms—it depends on what you're built upon.
Jesus Christ is the only foundation that will hold. He is the cornerstone. Not just a building block among many, but the very foundation upon which everything else rests. No other foundation can be laid. Every other ground is sinking sand.

In this spiritual warfare, one of the most powerful weapons God has given us is our conscience. It's the living proof of Almighty God—the one thing that sets humanity apart from all other creation. Animals don't have a conscience; they have learned behavior. But humans possess this internal voice that distinguishes right from wrong.
Your conscience is your wisest counselor, your greatest teacher, your most faithful friend—and potentially your worst enemy. There are no rewards comparable to those of a good conscience, and no punishments as severe as those of a guilty one.
The enemy's strategy from the beginning has been to silence the conscience. In the Garden of Eden, he told Eve that God's word wasn't true, that disobedience wouldn't bring death but enlightenment. That same lie echoes through every generation, whispered in quiet rooms, on crowded streets, in business offices, and yes, even in church services.
But conscience speaks. You can try to drown it out with noise, business, pleasure, or substances. You can immerse yourself in distractions. But eventually, you'll be alone, and that voice will find you. It will rob you of joy, turn your achievements bitter, and fill your soul with unrest.

Here's the truth that must be understood: following Jesus is not easy. It's not a bed of roses. It requires noticeable, significant changes in how you live. Modern Christianity has often reconstructed discipleship to require virtually nothing—just say a prayer, claim to love Jesus, and continue living however you want.
But that's not Jesus' way. His way has demands. His way requires sacrifice. His way leads to a cross.
Yet here's the other side of the equation: whatever the cost of following Christ, it's infinitely cheaper than the alternative. The misery, emptiness, and destruction that come from life without God carry a price tag that will bankrupt your soul.
Heaven will be cheap at any price. The peace, joy, and righteousness found in God's kingdom far outweigh any temporary discomfort encountered in this life. The eternal glories awaiting those who persevere make every sacrifice seem trivial in comparison.

This is not a playground—it's a battleground. We're not here for vacations or to take our ease. We're called to fight. Every day, we must rise and engage the enemy with the weapons God has provided: the sword of the Spirit, the shield of faith, the breastplate of righteousness.
The good news? We're not fighting alone, and we're not fighting without resources. Greater is He who is in us than he who is in the world. Our weapons are not carnal but mighty through God to the pulling down of strongholds. No weapon formed against us will prosper.
But we must fight. We must stand. We must count the cost and decide that Christ is worth it.
The question isn't whether the cost is high. The question is whether you're willing to pay it. Because the alternative—a life lived apart from God, a soul lost for eternity, a legacy of compromise and defeat—costs infinitely more.
Count the cost. Build on the rock. Take up your cross. The battle is real, but so is the victory that awaits those who endure to the end.