The Cost of Following Jesus (Jan 31, 2026)
After witnessing Jesus heal a leper (Matt 8:1-4), a centurion’s servant (8:5-13), and many others (8:14-17), two men approach him offering to follow. Their responses seem eager, even noble. But Jesus’s replies are startling, even stern. He doesn’t praise their commitment—he challenges them with the cost.
The first man, who is a scribe, makes a sweeping promise.
Teacher, I will follow you wherever you go (Matt 8:19, ESV).
It sounds impressive, but Jesus responds with an uncomfortable truth:
Foxes have holes, and birds of the air have nests, but the Son of Man has nowhere to lay his head (8:20).
Following Jesus means accepting his homelessness, rejection, and insecurity. The Son of Man—a title recalling Daniel’s majestic heavenly figure who receives authority over all kingdoms (Dan 7:13-14)—has nowhere to lay his head. The irony is sharp: the one destined to inherit everything owns nothing.
Jesus is using hyperbole here. Other parts of the Gospels suggest Jesus had access to a home (Mark 2:1; 3:20), yet here he describes himself as more homeless than foxes and birds. He’s highlighting the itinerant and uncertain nature of his mission, exaggerating to make his point clear. He’s asking, “Are you prepared for a life of insecurity and displacement?”
The second man requests something reasonable.
Lord, let me first go and bury my father (8:21).
In ancient Jewish culture, this wasn’t just a request—it was a sacred duty, one of the highest responsibilities a son could undertake. Yet Jesus says,
Follow me, and leave the dead to bury their own dead (8:22).
He’s not dismissing family responsibility without care. He’s using hyperbole again to emphasize an urgent point: the kingdom of God must come first. Even the most sacred cultural duties must submit to the call to follow.
These sayings follow immediately after Jesus demonstrates his power and authority. Matthew shows us that recognizing Jesus’s authority alone isn’t enough. Being amazed by his miracles isn’t enough. True discipleship requires allowing his lordship to transform our entire lives—our security, our plans, and our deepest family loyalties.
What does this mean for us? Jesus still doesn’t hide the cost. Following him might lead to financial insecurity, disrupted plans, or tension with family expectations. He offers no easy Christianity where faith fits neatly into our existing priorities. Instead, he asks: Will you let me reorder everything?
The question isn’t whether following Jesus is difficult. Jesus himself says it is. The real question is whether he’s worth it—whether the one who commands wind and waves, who heals with a word, and who has authority over life and death, deserves our complete loyalty. Have you considered the cost? And after counting it, will you still choose to follow?