The Thirteenth Sunday After Pentecost
Sunday, September 7, 2025
The Rev. David Wilcox
“See, I have set before you today life and prosperity, death and adversity. … Choose life so that you and your descendants may live.”
Moses speaks these words to the people of Israel as they stand on the threshold of the Promised Land. After forty long years in the wilderness, they are about to step into a new season, a new identity, a new future. And before they cross over, Moses lays the choice before them in stark terms: life or death, blessing or curse, faithfulness or unfaithfulness.
It is a powerful moment. The choice is theirs. And Moses pleads: choose life.
But what does it mean to choose life?
At first glance, it seems obvious. Of course, we want life and not death. Of course, we want blessing and not curse. Who in their right mind would choose otherwise? But when we look closely, we see that Moses is pointing toward something deeper. To choose life is to align our whole being with God’s ways — to love the Lord with heart, soul, and strength, and to walk in covenant faithfulness.
But choosing life in this sense isn’t always easy. Because sin and death rarely present themselves honestly. They don’t come to us waving a warning flag. More often, they disguise themselves as comfort, or success, or security. They appear attractive. They promise freedom or power or pleasure, but in the end, they leave us emptier and more enslaved.
That is why Moses and Jesus both speak with such urgency. Sin and death may look like life at first — just as Egypt once looked safer than the wilderness, just as worldly success looks easier than self-denial. But in the end, they corrode and destroy.
This is what Jesus is getting at in the Gospel. Luke tells us that great crowds were traveling with him. He was popular. People wanted to be near him. And instead of leaning into that popularity, Our Lord turns and says something that must have startled the crowd because it still startles us: “Whoever comes to me and does not hate father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters, yes, and even life itself, cannot be my disciple. … Whoever does not carry the cross and follow me cannot be my disciple.”
It sounds harsh, but Jesus is stripping away the illusions. He knows how easily we mistake the appearance of life for the reality of it. He knows how tempting it is to cling to our families, our possessions, our reputations, or our own self-reliance, thinking that those things will keep us safe. But those things cannot save. Only Christ can.
And here’s where today’s Collect speaks so powerfully: “Grant us, O Lord, to trust in you with all our hearts; for, as you always resist the proud who confide in their own strength, so you never forsake those who make their boast of your mercy.”
That’s the dividing line between death and life. To confide in our own strength — to boast of what we can build or accumulate or control — is to choose death, no matter how good it looks on the surface. But to trust in God’s mercy, to boast in Christ rather than in ourselves — that is to choose life.
Think of the Israelites: they had to let go of Egypt, even though slavery there had at least provided certainty. They had to let go of the wilderness, even though they had learned to survive there. They had to step forward into the unknown Promised Land, trusting that God would be faithful. And the only way they could do that was to “boast of God’s mercy,” not of their own strength.
The same is true for us. To choose life with Christ is to release our grip on lesser gods — the gods of success, security, reputation, or even family loyalty when it competes with discipleship. To choose life with Christ is to loosen our hold on possessions, comfort, and control, and to entrust ourselves fully to God’s will.
That is not easy. It is costly. But it is also the only path to true life.
Jesus’ image of counting the cost makes this clear — the builder who estimates before laying a foundation, the king who considers the size of the opposing army. In other words: don’t enter into discipleship lightly. This is not a hobby, or a side project, or something to squeeze into the margins of life for one hour on a Sunday morning. Choosing life is choosing Christ above all else, and it will, it must, shape everything.
But here’s the grace in it: when we do choose life, when we choose Christ, we discover that the things we let go of are nothing compared to what we gain. We discover a freedom that possessions cannot provide, a peace that circumstances cannot shake, a joy that runs deeper than sorrow. We discover a life that is eternal — not just in length, but in depth and richness.
And again, as the Collect reminds us: God never forsakes those who trust in his mercy. He never abandons those who put their hope in him. Choosing life doesn’t depend on our flawless effort — it depends on God’s unfailing grace.
Every day we are faced with choices — large and small — that put before us life and death, blessing and curse. And every day, by God’s grace, we are invited again: choose life.
The good news is that we don’t choose life alone. Christ has already carried the cross, gone ahead of us into death, and opened the way into true life. Our choosing is simply a response to God’s faithful love, and an invitation to be in relationship with him.
So today, as we hear Moses’ plea and Jesus’ challenge, let us step forward in trust. Let us choose life ,choose Christ , confident that God never forsakes those who make their boast of his mercy.
Amen.
