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"Come to me all of you who labor and are heavy laden and I will give you rest!" Christ's warm invitation to discipleship is appealing and difficult to resist. Understandably, the lines were long. Seekers crowded around him, aware that something was missing in their lives; sensing that this man of grace could fill the empty places.

The widespread interest of people in spiritual matters is the key to understanding the significance of his apparent rebuff in these verses. The warning to would-be disciples is given by Jesus to these great multitudes of religious groupies; spiritual camp followers, as it were. Discipleship is expensive. What cost Jesus his life, costs us ours. There is no such thing as "cheap grace." The temptation is always to soften his words, tame them, and make Jesus and his message more winsome. But let them stand as they are without attempting to make the rough places plain. After all, there are those more experienced in discipleship than we who have verified his words at the expense of their lives. Dietrich Bonhoeffer reminds us that when Christ calls us into discipleship he bids us come and die. There are, of course, many ways to die although Bonhoeffer paid for his discipleship with a martyr's death. But all would-be disciples must take on the mind of Christ and the burdens of love that he bore. Jesus asks, "Can you share your life with others? Can you extend your love beyond the boundaries of family loyalty? Can it transcend your commitment to life itself?" It is in this context that Jesus warns, "Calculate the cost, Sisters and Brothers, before signing on for a tour of duty."

Revivals of religious interest periodically sweep the country. Most recently an apparent spiritual re-awakening is moving in the hearts of middle class Americans. A senior vice president of a major company, who found religion, summarizes the feelings of many converts. "Before, I wanted to be successful in the world; now I want to exalt the Lord. I want to stay a businessman, but I want people to know that God changes lives."

The tune has a familiar ring to it. The biblical story of Nicodemus comes forcefully to mind: Nicodemus, that middle-class, fairly well-to-do man of prestige and stature in the community. Yet with all of his comforts, he was vaguely uneasy about himself, sensing that something was lacking. He came to Jesus to talk religion.

As middle class Americans, we, like Nicodemus, feel a certain lostness and want a sense of certainty. And like Nicodemus, we hunger to know that God loves us, as we are, that God blesses us, as we are, and that God gives us permission to be as we are. "I want to stay a businessman, but I want people to know that God changes lives." Changes lives, yes! But not our values! Not society! Not our company. Our brother wants to stay with the system. He wants to remain a vice president in good standing with the company. Like Nicodemus, multitudes of us - comfortable, fairly well-to-do, enjoying some status in the community, well thought of by our peers - nonetheless come to Christ to talk about religion, hungry to know that God loves us as we are, blesses us as we are, and gives us permission to be as we are.

And why not? There's nothing wrong with the way we are. Americans, God fearing people, and proud of it. Humility demands that we admit we need a little fixing up here and there; some tinkering around the edges. But we are, after all, a nation under God. Leaders of the free world; champions of God, motherhood, and a sound dollar. The American way is the only way because it is God's way.

For most of us the kingdom of God and the American way are comfortable bed-fellows. The German sociologist, Max Weber, noted that Calvinism - because of its belief in human sinfulness, i.e. selfishness; coupled with its call to frugality - fostered and nurtured a capitalistic economic system. Roman Catholic philosopher and theologian, Michael Novac, believes that capitalism works better than any other economic system because we are sinners. "I believe in sin," he said. "Socialism is a system built on belief in human goodness; so it never works. Capitalism is a system built on belief in human selfishness; given checks and balances, it is nearly always a smashing, scandalous success."7 The two systems of thought fit together so well, in fact, that Capitalism has become a quasi-religion in our society. No one dares criticize it for fear of being called un-American. Politics and religion merge in the creedal statements, "I own what I have." "I earned it." "It is mine to do with as I please." "Let others get theirs the same way I did."

From a Christian perspective we must admit that the legacy of the Reagan years has legitimized selfishness. "Why do I owe my neighbor anything?" has become a respectable question. We resent any restrictions or claims put on our way of life in the name of concern for others. They appear to us as intolerable violations of our individual rights. For us there exists only one right: the right to live in peace and not be disturbed. Like Nicodemus, we want to talk about religion but not politics or economics. Let Jesus speak to us about heavenly matters but he had better keep his nose out of our business.

When Robin Roberts received one of the many awards in his long and colorful baseball career, he received it with proper modesty and words to the effect that his real ambition was to get to heaven where the really significant awards would be given. Not only is baseball the great American pastime, his humble acceptance speech illustrates the widespread notion held by many Americans: The purpose of life is to get to heaven and Jesus is supposed to help us get there.

During evangelistic campaigns, posters and bumper stickers are sometimes displayed with the slogan, "Jesus is the answer!" On one such poster someone had penciled in the words, "But what is the question?" For us, Jesus is the one who answers our questions. It never occurs to us that he might just call into question our whole being. But that is just what Jesus does when he warns us to count the cost! It is to us as part of the vast multitude of American seekers after spiritual realities that Jesus speaks. He calls into question our comfortable, self-centered, self-affirming identities and calls us to adopt the values of the crucified one. Unfortunately for Nicodemus and for us, the changes demanded by our confrontation with Jesus are eviscerating. They turn us inside out and demand a whole new identity. Jesus tells us we must be born again! Tinkering around the edges will not do. We must start all over.

The task is to redeem his words. It is not Oral Roberts or Billy Graham speaking. It is Jesus Christ. The Christ who was born for the sake of the oppressed, identified with them even unto death, and who initiated his ministry by claiming, as fulfilled in his presence, the prophecy of Isaiah about preaching good news to the poor, release to the captives and setting at liberty those who are oppressed. It is this bearer of good news to the poor, the captives, and the oppressed who asks overzealous followers, "Can you drink from the same cup that I do?" It is Jesus Christ who commands, "You must be born again."

When evangelists speak of being "born again" they are talking about a conversion experience. But Jesus was not talking about religion. He was talking about a change of identity: being born again. Starting all over with a radically new persona, an identification with those who are blind or hungry or poor, those in bondage and poverty stricken. Jesus is calling us to make the frustrations of the oppressed our frustrations, their aspirations our aspirations. We are being asked to make their insecurity our insecurity, their struggle our struggle.

"You come to me, Nicodemus, as you are, to talk about heaven and God and I say to you, you must be born again. Are you ready to discount your status, your privilege, your success, to identify with the wretched, the lost, and the damned?" Jesus is not calling us to be his admirers, much less his defenders. He invites us to be followers who are willing to take on the scandal of being born in a barn and the embarrassment of an outcast's cross.

Are we willing to be born again? Are we willing to change our identities? Are we willing to include in our circle of loved ones those who have been condemned to second-class citizenship by our society? Can we abandon the provincialism of "My country, right or wrong; but right or wrong, my country." Can we challenge the assumption that increasing profits for American business is the basic tenet of good global economic theory and practice. Can we deny national security and economic privilege as sacrosanct. "Count the cost' warns Jesus.

Jesus' warning seems dangerously lacking in the popular spirituality of many Christians in this country. The revival of religion among so called "born again Christians," is often nothing more than an emotional jag from which believers escape quite unscathed. Our insurance company executive wants to continue his climb to the top, "I want to stay a businessman, but I want people to know that God changes lives." Perhaps there is no characteristic of Christian faith that is more at odds with current religious trends in this country than Christ's concern for the world's outcasts.

For us as American Christians, Jesus' words cut deep. Our national prosperity and success have made us arrogant. Our arrogance comes from what has come to be called "the Protestant work ethic." Its logic is simple: Since work produces, it is good. And since God likes good people, God rewards those who work. Prosperity is a sign of God's providence and we tip our hat in the direction of the divine every Thanksgiving, by making it a national holiday.

Unfortunately, the logic works in reverse and it is easily concluded that because unemployment does not produce, it is bad. And since God does not like bad people, God punishes those who do not work. The end result is self-righteous arrogance. We can overlook those who live at the margins of our society because they are not worthy of its benefits. Wealth is evidence of God's benevolent approval and poverty is proof of God's righteous indignation. This belief that "good guys win and bad guys lose" has been translated into economic theory in this country with religious fervor. It has become an article of faith in the creed of American Free Enterprise. Bright, ambitious people deserve to be well fed and dressed, while others, who might be classified as "dull" or "lazy," deserve nothing but the crumbs from the blessed table of the prosperous or their discarded clothing offered in charitable rummage sales.

Novac may be right. Capitalism may work because of human sinfulness, but never let us forget that it is human sinfulness and greed that is under the judgment of God.

Our society's obsession with industrial growth and corporate profits raises a moral issue for us. Look through any magazine and feel the energy of the image makers as they proclaim their gospels. As a person we are unacceptable unless we buy Ban deodorant, while Scope mouthwash holds the promise of reconciliation. Unless we buy Scott's Turf Builder and have a greener weed-free lawn we do not really love our neighbor or our neighborhood. Women are not really liberated unless they smoke Virginia Slims and our peace of mind is dependent upon Fixodent that holds our plates firmly in place while we drink our Old Granddad, a sure sign that we are one of the beautiful people. And only if we own a Cadillac can nothing more, nor better, be conceived of in this life.

You may not recognize this person as the image of God but it might pass as a fair reflection of the person in the bathroom mirror. It is the new you, envisaged and molded by a consumer society. All of the advertisements raise a moral issue. Ads do not simply tell us what is available to meet our needs. They are designed to create those needs and sell us goods and services that otherwise we could very well do without. Decisions about dollars is a moral issue because while we are busy buying things we do not need, people are starving to death, dying of disease, living without shelter. Discipleship on Jesus' terms not only nurtures a daring and imaginative social concern, it calls for nothing less than global consciousness.

Given our predilection to read the economic tea leaves as signs of God's pleasure or wrath, we are taken aback when accosted by the words of Jesus. Like Nicodemus, we had hoped to talk about religion, not politics or economics. Our interest in religous revivals and Christ's agenda for disciples are clearly in tension.

To become a disciple of Jesus we have to make a decision involving hard choices. There is nothing automatic about becoming a Christian. We choose to become a follower of Jesus and that decision inevitably involves more than a weekly tip of the hat in God's direction.

For example, our pocketbooks. The privilege of owning private property, and passing wealth on to those whom we designate through inheritance must continually be weighed on the scales of Christian stewardship. Property rights are not articles of faith. Property owners in the Old Testament did not have the right to harvest everything in their fields. They had to leave some of the gleanings for the poor. More significantly, when Israelite farmers purchased land, Levitic law held that they really bought only the use of the land for a period of time until the Jubilee year required its return to the original landowner. The Old Testament ideal of a Jubilee year was intended to provide an institutionalized way of ensuring economic justice in society. It was poor people's right to receive back their inheritance at the time of Jubilee. Returning the land was not a charitable courtesy which the landowners might extend if they were moved to do so. It was a required understanding which was built into the ownership, and, consequently, the stewardship of land.

Similarly, the biblical practice of tithing was the required understanding which accompanied the holding, and, consequently, the stewardship, of wealth. It was not intended as a means of raising money, later to be replaced in the Christian church by the Christmas bazaar or Friday night bingo. It was a structured way to remind owners that all wealth belongs to God.

Tithing is still a useful discipline for believers living in this most affluent nation; believers who are learning to be disciples. Though we may own everything, we are to live as though we possess nothing. The Bible calls us to live as stewards of our possessions rather than owners. Owners develop hardness of heart. Owners develop closed mindedness when it comes to the things of the Spirit. Owners can no longer respond to Christ's invitation to come follow. And churches of owners can no longer offer a Word of hope to the world.

Unfortunately, people on whom lady luck has smiled tend to think the function of government is to protect their property and position. It is not that these folks are any more selfish than others, it is just that people who have been lucky tend to be hard of hearing when Jesus says, "Whoever does not bear his own cross and come after me, cannot be my disciple." We may agree that all of this is very idealistic and impractical, not to mention, "unpatriotic" and inconvenient. We may even reject the terms of discipleship. But we ought not think that we can change them to suit our convenience.