Tied for Fourteenth
A Homecoming Sermon by Rev. Ken Freshour
Pleasant Grove Methodist Church - November 2, 2025
Homecoming Reflections
Before I start my sermon this morning, I’ve been thinking about being here for some time. You all made a lasting impression on me, my wife, and our child. We came here on February 1st — Chris, Shannon, and I — to serve as associate pastor.
We walked in the door back near the office, and the first person we met was Sarah Brooker. Five minutes after we met Sarah, she had already taken Shannon to a Sunday school class. I turned to Chris and said, “I think I’m going to like it here.”
The love, support, and encouragement we received here jump-started forty years of ministry. I knew I loved the Lord — that was about all I knew about ministry when I came here. The three of us arrived, and now we have twelve children, thirty-four grandchildren, and two great-grandchildren.
As I look out across the congregation today, I see some empty places — folks I loved dearly, who were so active in our church’s growth and in our spiritual growth.
There were also some funny memories along the way. I played on the church softball team — Eddie Marlow was the manager. One night, I was playing first base and chased a foul ball. I stepped in a hole, and instantly, my ankle swelled up about this big. Eddie sat me down on the bench, taped my ankle, and I finished the rest of the game.
When I got home — we were living in the house across the street — Eddie called Chris and said, “Chris, you probably ought to bring Ken to the doctor tomorrow. That ankle’s probably broken.” Chris said, “But Eddie, he played five more innings!” And Eddie said, “We would have had to forfeit.”
Anybody who knew Eddie knows I’m telling the truth.
Reflections on Ministry
I retired twelve years ago. I was planning to be a full-time grandpa, but I had mentored a young pastor about twenty years earlier — back when I was serving at Trinity Methodist Church in Rome and he was at Lindale. We became close friends. We were both disabled veterans, and we stayed in touch through the years.
When he became sick, they asked me to fill in for a couple of months at his church. They didn’t have a leadership team or a budget, but I agreed to help for two months. Well, I’ve been there ten years now. Apparently, I’m a slow learner.
Right after I retired, I was also asked to fill in for about ten weeks during the summer at a church across from Chatsworth. They were transitioning from a full-time pastor to a student appointment.
The last thing I told that church before they received their new pastor was this:
“You have a great opportunity to do something amazing. You can help that person — who doesn’t yet know how to be a pastor — learn how to be one. You can love them, encourage them, support them, and create the beginning of a great ministry. Or you can nag, whine, gripe, and complain about what they don’t know how to do — and put a damper on what could have been a wonderful ministry.”
Thank you, Pleasant Grove, because you all loved us when I didn’t know what I was doing. You encouraged us when I made mistakes. You overlooked my errors and lifted up my successes.
For forty years, I’ve loved this place. On my last Sunday before retirement, I wore the same robe you gave me when I left here in 1987 — the same robe that had been with me for forty years.
Thank you, Pleasant Grove. You are a wonderful congregation.
Scripture Reading: Luke 14:25–33
I studied long and hard about what I would preach this morning, and I believe I chose wisely. Please stand as I read from God’s holy Word.
“Large crowds were traveling with Jesus, and turning to them, He said:
‘If anyone comes to Me and does not hate his father and mother, his wife and children, his brothers and sisters — yes, even his own life — he cannot be My disciple.
And anyone who does not carry his cross and follow Me cannot be My disciple.
Suppose one of you wants to build a tower. Will he not first sit down and estimate the cost to see if he has enough money to complete it?
For if he lays the foundation and is not able to finish it, everyone who sees it will ridicule him, saying, “This fellow began to build and was not able to finish.”
Or suppose a king is about to go to war against another king. Will he not first sit down and consider whether he is able with ten thousand men to oppose the one coming against him with twenty thousand?
If he is not able, he will send a delegation while the other is still a long way off and will ask for terms of peace.
In the same way, any of you who does not give up everything he has cannot be My disciple.’”— Luke 14:25–33 (NIV)
The Word of God for the people of God.
Thanks be to God.
Please be seated.
The Cost of Discipleship
You know, I’ve always struggled a bit with that word “hate” in this passage. When Jesus says, “If anyone does not hate his father and mother…” — that sounds harsh, doesn’t it?
I’ve graduated from two of the best seminaries in the country — I have both a master’s and a doctorate — and I even looked it up on Google! The word “hate” can indeed mean hate, but in this context, it really means “to love less.” It’s a matter of priority.
If a person does not love these less and love Christ more, he cannot be His disciple. I believe that’s what Jesus was trying to teach us here.
Tied for Fourteenth
Years ago, Time Magazine ran an article asking a group of Americans to list the top 100 most significant events in the history of the world.
The results were fascinating. The number one event was the discovery of America by Columbus. But here’s what stood out to me: three events tied for fourteenth place — the discovery of X-rays, the Wright brothers’ first flight, and the crucifixion of Jesus Christ.
Tied for fourteenth.
What does that tell you? To me, it says that we’ve not done a very good job explaining what the crucifixion of Jesus really means.
The poll suggests we haven’t helped people understand what the cross does for us.
Tied for fourteenth.
Someone once said, “The heart of the Bible is the Gospel, the heart of the Gospel is the cross, and the heart of the cross is the very heart of God Himself.”
The Cross and What It Means for Us
Christian Century once published an article about a young man named Lou Marshall. He had been a divinity student at Harvard, but at the time of the story, he was living in New York City, working to bring peace between two rival teenage gangs — the Young Untouchables and the Playboys.
These gangs had been at war, and Lou was trying to mediate, to help them find peace. He managed to get them to stop the fighting. But one night, while traveling home, four gang members — who clearly didn’t appreciate what he was doing — attacked him. They beat and kicked him and left him lying in a pool of his own blood.
He was rushed to the hospital, but two days later, he died.
At his memorial service, both gangs attended — the very people he had been trying to help. The service was conducted by Rev. Howard Moody, pastor of Judson Memorial Church in Greenwich Village.
Rev. Moody said these words at Lou’s service:
“Lou’s death is a testimony to us as human beings and as a city of people — to build a place where we can dwell together in peace.
Some people say that the pavement on which he died wasn’t worth a life so full of promise and hope. Others might say he was foolish to get involved in something so dangerous.
Still, I believe that this place has been made holy because of the blood that was shed — the blood of a man whose courage to stand for what he believed was right has sanctified this ground.”
Every Christian believes that the blood Jesus shed for you and me was more than adequate. The cross is the greatest symbol not only of humanity’s cruelty, but also of God’s love.
It is the most complete act of affirmation we can find anywhere.
“For God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son.”
The Worth of the Cross
I want us to think for a moment about what the cross means for us.
First, the cross means that God sees us as people of vital worth.
We are worth something to God.
It’s easy to grow pessimistic if you watch the news. I quit watching the news about five years ago, and you know what? The world has managed to get by just fine without me paying attention to it. I’ve got enough strife in my own house! Even though I’ve got my kids out of the house, if I could just get them out of my billfold, I’d be okay — but that hasn’t happened yet.
An Illustration of Sacrifice
There’s a story from World War II about a captain leading a group of soldiers. One day, he heard that one of his men had been shot and was lying out on the battlefield, crying for help.
The other soldiers warned him, “Don’t go out there! It’s too dangerous!”
But he went anyway. He ran out under fire and dragged the young man back to safety. In the process, the captain was shot between the shoulder blades. He later died from that wound, but the young man he rescued survived.
After the war, the captain’s family invited the soldier to their home for dinner. He arrived late, half intoxicated, ate the meal, and left without saying a word about the sacrifice that had been made for him.
The mother of the slain captain burst into tears and said to her husband, “To think our son died for someone like that.”
And I can imagine God looking down at us and saying, “Do you think My Son died for people like that?”
We squabble, we fight, we call each other names. We sin, we fail, we forget. And yet — He still calls us worth it.
No Price Too High
There’s an old story about a woman vacationing in Florida who loved art. She found a beautiful piece she wanted to buy, but it was very expensive. She sent a telegram to her husband, describing it, and asking what to do.
He replied, “No price too high, buy it.”
She took him at his word, purchased the piece, and proudly brought it home to show him. He was furious. “I told you not to buy that!” he said.
She handed him the telegram: “See? You said no price too high, buy it.”
He read it and realized his mistake — punctuation matters. What he meant to send was: “No, price too high! Don’t buy it.”
Punctuation makes a difference.
And when it comes to our salvation, God says something different too. He doesn’t say, “No, price too high.” He says, “No price too high.”
It’s beyond our comprehension that God would look at us and say that — but He does.
I have twelve kids, and I wouldn’t want to lose any of them. I might lend you one or two for a weekend, but I wouldn’t give them up. Yet God looked at the world and said, “No price is too high.”
The cross means that God sees us as people of vital worth.
Our Infinite Potential
Secondly, the cross means that God sees our infinite potential.
There’s a story about a young man who arrived too early for his date. The girl came to the door — her hair was a mess, half done, and she tried to make light of it. She said, “Well, what do you think of my hair?”
And the young man said, “It looks like it’s about to become something wonderful.”
Now that’s diplomacy!
But I think that’s how God looks at us. He looks at us and says, “You’re about to become something wonderful.”
God Sees the Potential in You
There was once a young Polish girl named Maria Sklodowska. One day, her professor told the class, “Some of you have the stars at your fingertips.”
Maria went on to study at the Sorbonne in France, where she met and married one of her professors, Pierre Curie. Together, they pursued science — and failed again and again. But one evening, they came into their lab and saw something glowing faintly in a dish. They had discovered a new element — radium.
They truly had the stars at their fingertips.
We might never achieve greatness like that, but if we pick up our cross and follow Jesus, mighty things can happen.
A Mission Trip and a Miracle
I was on a mission trip to Tampico, Mexico, about twelve or fourteen years ago. We were building a church over the course of the summer. I was part of the first crew that went in — we poured the foundation and set the corner blocks. We also taught Vacation Bible School.
Now, we were staying in what they called a hotel. I’m not sure that’s what I would have called it, but that’s what they called it!
There was a maid who worked there, and as we were preparing to leave, the bus was ready to go. Everyone was loaded up and ready to head back to the United States when the translator came to me and said, “Dr. Freshour, the maid wants to talk to you.”
So I went back inside to speak with her. She asked, “Why are y’all here?” (that’s good Southern Spanish right there).
The translator repeated it, and I said, “We’re here because we’re Christians.”
She gave me a blank look. I asked, “Ma’am, are you a Christian?”
She said, “I’m a Catholic.”
I said, “I didn’t ask you that. I asked if you are a Christian.”
She said again, “I’m a Catholic.”
I repeated, “That’s not what I asked. Have you accepted Jesus Christ as your Lord and Savior?”
She looked confused. She didn’t understand what I was saying at first. But as I explained it — that being a Christian means personally believing in Jesus, receiving Him, and following Him — she began to listen closely.
Finally, there in the back hallway of that hotel, we knelt down together, and I led that maid to the Lord.
The stars were at my fingertips.
That moment may not have seemed like a big miracle to anyone else, but for that woman, it was the miracle of a lifetime. And that’s what it’s all about. That’s what it means to take up the cross.
Taking Up the Cross
When we recognize our worth in the eyes of God, and understand the potential He has placed within us, there’s no telling what might be accomplished through our obedience.
Then we have the power to take up the cross — the cross of commitment, love, and service — and walk in the footsteps of Jesus.
There’s nothing more discouraging to me than to hear a congregation sing mournfully, like it’s a funeral dirge, “Must Jesus Bear the Cross Alone.”
Have you ever heard a church sing like that? It’s pitiful — as if the cross were some terrible burden, something that robs us of joy.
But that’s not what the cross is.
The cross isn’t a chain that holds you down — it’s the wings that lift you up.
Running from the Call
I’ll tell you something personal: I ran from the call to preach for twenty years. Jesus called me to ministry when I was sixteen, and I didn’t want to do it. I thought I’d never have another good time again if I said yes.
So I ran. I dragged Chris and Shannon all over the country, working various jobs, trying to hide from God.
But let me tell you something — if God can find you in Adairsville, Georgia, He can find you anywhere.
There’s no point in hiding. Eventually, I stopped running, went to seminary, and said yes to the call.
The Birds and Their Wings
There’s a story — almost a parable — about how birds got their wings.
When God first created the birds, they had beautiful voices and bright plumage, but they didn’t have wings. God decided to give them wings, but when they saw them, they didn’t know what they were for.
They picked them up in their beaks and carried them on their backs like a burden. They walked around with these heavy wings, complaining about how cumbersome they were.
Finally, they learned how to attach them properly and fold them over their hearts. And when they began to move them, those burdens became what lifted them into the sky.
What they once thought were weights became wings.
And that’s exactly how it is with the cross.
What feels like a burden at first — the cost of discipleship, the sacrifice of following Jesus — becomes the very thing that allows us to soar.
The cross gives you wings.
Bearing the cross of Christ allows you to do things you never thought you could do.
Talent Is Cheap, Dedication Is Costly
There was a sculptor named Bertoldo di Giovanni. You’ve probably never heard of him, but you’ve certainly heard of one of his students — a young man named Michelangelo.
Michelangelo came to work for him when he was fourteen years old. It was obvious he had enormous talent. But Giovanni also knew that people with great talent often like to take the easy way — to coast along without much effort.
One day, Giovanni walked into the studio and saw Michelangelo working on something far below his potential. He picked up a hammer, smashed the sculpture to pieces, and said,
“Michelangelo, talent is cheap — dedication is costly.”
And he was right.
Talent is cheap. Dedication costs everything.
It cost Matthew his life by the sword in Ethiopia.
It cost Mark his life at the hands of a mob in Alexandria.
Luke was hanged on an olive tree in Greece.
The once-doubting Thomas died from a spear in India.
James the Greater was beheaded in Jerusalem.
James the Lesser was thrown from the pinnacle of the Temple and beaten to death.
Bartholomew was flayed alive.
Peter was crucified upside down in Rome.
Andrew preached the Gospel until his dying breath on a cross.
Jude was shot with arrows.
Make no mistake — the Gospel we treasure was paid for with blood.
Talent is cheap. Dedication is costly.
The Cost of Following Christ
We need the message of the cross because sometimes we forget that real faith involves sacrifice.
Husbands and wives want strong marriages — but they don’t always want to do the hard work.
Parents want to raise good Christian children — but they don’t always want to pay the price by showing them how to live a Christian life.
Church members want a church that’s vibrant and growing — but they’d rather someone else do the serving.
Each of us wants to make a lasting difference in the world — but too often, we try to do it from the recliner, remote control in hand.
Let me tell you something, friends: it cannot be done.
You must take up your cross, and you must serve.
Closing Prayer
Let us pray.
Our gracious God,
Thank You, Father, for all the blessings You’ve given us — for the joy of being Your children.
Help us, Lord, to take up the cross, even when it feels heavy.
Give us courage, strength, and faith to follow You wherever You lead.
Bless us, Father, in Jesus’ name.
Amen.
