Good morning, and welcome back! After a summer of rest and travel, gardens and reunions, we gather again. Students head back to UBC and VST; children and youth shoulder their backpacks. Teachers and staff ready classrooms, and families reset routines. Whether you are here every week, joining online, or are new to West Point Grey United, we are glad you are here.

And thank you for yesterday. Our Fall Fair was more than a fundraiser. It was a gift for the common good. Bakers, sorters, gardeners, musicians, sellers, organizers and donors–so many hands. It cost us time, energy, and money. It asked for early mornings, late clean-ups, and warm welcomes for longtime neighbours and newly moved neighbours. We came together so our community could come together. That is an image of God’s kingdom that Jesus is talking about. God’s reign shows up in our mundane work, mutual care, and hospitality.

We re-enter this season in a world of many crises. Fires burn, the weather feels strange, the oceans are polluted, and microplastics are showing up on our plates. Wars continue. The gap between rich and poor widens. Closer to home, we feel another ache: many churches are becoming smaller than they used to be. Leaders are asking how to be faithful with fewer people and fewer resources. Our new Moderator has said we may need to “go small” and, at the same time, “go deep.” Going small is not giving up; rather, it means returning to what matters most.

In a moment like this, Luke shows Jesus on the road to Jerusalem. A large crowd is behind him. If Jesus had wanted big numbers, this was his chance. But he turns and says hard words: “Whoever does not carry the cross and follow me cannot be my disciple.” And again: “Whoever comes to me and does not hate father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters, and even life itself, cannot be my disciple.”

Those words sound harsh, almost like an anti-growth strategy. But Jesus is not chasing crowds; he is forming disciples. But why such strong words? We stumble over the term hate. In Jesus’ day, the word “hate” was often used to make a strong contrast. It stated a preference. If I said, “I love the mountains and hate the ocean,” it wouldn’t mean I felt hostile toward the ocean but simply mean that the mountains were my first choice.

So to hate could mean “to love less” or “to put in a second place.” Jesus is not telling us to despise our families. He is telling us that if we wish to follow him, he must come first. Even good gifts–family, finances, plans, and reputation cannot outrank his call. Clearly, discipleship costs something. We give up, we sacrifice, we offer effort and resources.

Jesus then tells two short stories. One is about a builder who estimates the price before starting a tower. The other is about a king who thinks carefully before going to war. Jesus’ point here is simple: be honest before you begin. Do not start if you will only do halfway. In our journey, grace is freely given, but following Jesus will eventually touch our time, our habits, our spending, and our comfort. So, we should ask, “Am I prepared to finish what I start?” Jesus does not pretend the road is easy. He himself is walking toward the cross, fully aware of the hardship ahead of him, and ours won’t be easy either.

Discipleship isn’t easy. Often it means travelling light, letting go of what we cling to so God can place new things in our hands.

Let me share part of my own “counting the cost.” More than a decade ago, I learned I needed surgery. Fear flooded in. I felt alone and lost confidence about my future in Canada. Like most people, I turned to the idea of family and decided to return to Korea. I wanted to be with family. I thought about my future days and weeks, and I felt sure that I would quit this journey and return home. So, one night, I was searching for jobs online – a possible job that I could have when I get back to Korea. I looked at the clock. It was midnight. The house was so quiet, and I was so focused. My mind was crystal clear that I would leave ministry and go home.

Then, suddenly, I heard a loud, clear man’s voice behind me speaking in Korean–the very words God first spoke to Abraham: “Leave your family. Leave your country.” The voice felt so loud that I immediately slammed my laptop closed. And from that moment, I never again planned to go back. It’s pretty bizarre and creepy. I still cannot fully explain that night, but the result was clear: don’t go back. I love my family, yet I sensed the spirit telling me to stay here in Canada and love God’s people here even more. That call became part of my cross: to preach the gospel here, to tend people’s spiritual lives, to seek justice and peace with you.

The cost has been real–family far away, language and culture not my own, the daily life of being a minority. Yet this path has given me deep peace and joy, and Jesus walks with me, bearing the cross alongside me.

For us, counting the cost can begin with our rhythms. Prioritize worship, daily prayer or quiet pause, and serving others on our calendar. Give first, not last, toward the mending of lives and lands, toward Indigenous partners and climate care. As a church, we travel lighter and go deeper–Scripture and prayer, honest conversation, shared meals, Christ’s open table, and real work for justice. Welcome newcomers like family; reduce waste, bring meals, sit with the grieving.

And here is the surprise: when we count the cost, the cost we feared becomes the freedom that we wanted. Jesus opens our tight fists and fills them with purpose, deep joy, and brave friends. We may “go small,” but that is okay. The way of Jesus builds a strong community–a people who carry one another’s burdens and sing hope into the night.

So on this Welcome Back Sunday, as classes begin and routines restart, let us return to what matters most. Let our calendars, our homes, and this sanctuary be arranged around Jesus’ call. Let us be a people who travel light, love deeply, and make room at the table.

And let us remember what we lived out yesterday at the Fall Fair. We set aside time, energy, and resources, so neighbours could be welcomed and helped. We donated, baked, sorted, smiled, hosted, and shared for the common good. That is the kingdom of God in everyday clothes.

May the same spirit carry us into this new season, so that what we began in our conversation yesterday becomes our way of life in worship, learning, service, and friendship. Let it be so. Amen.