Sunday, June 29, 2025, Third Sunday after Pentecost
“Burning the Ships”
Psalm 16; 1 Kings 19:9b-21; Galatians 5:1, 13-25; Luke 9:51-62
A Service of Hymns and Prayers
Hymns: #662 “Onward Christian Soldiers”; #660 “Stand Up, Stand Up for Jesus”; #661 “The Son of God Goes Forth to War”; #665 “Be Strong in the Lord”; #560 “Drawn to the Cross”; #715 “Jesus, Savior, Pilot Me”; #728 “How Firm a Foundation”; #753 “All for Christ I Have Forsaken”
Dear Friends in Christ,
Grace, mercy, and peace to you, from God our Father and from our Lord and Savior Jesus. Amen.
In the year 1519, the Spanish conquistador Hernando Cortes arrived off the coast of what is now Mexico, with eleven ships and five hundred men, with the mission of beginning the conquest of the mighty Aztec empire. His men were terrified, so the story goes, and all in favor of sailing on; so Cortes, hungry for fame and glory and gold, sent the men ashore and had the ships destroyed behind them. Whether he actually burned his ships or simply scuttled them, historians aren’t quite sure. But the point was that the soldiers would have no other choice but to go on, because they had nowhere else to go, and nowhere left to go but forward. The men asked Cortes, “How will we get home again without our ships?” And he answered, “We’ll be going home in theirs.”
Cortes was, by all accounts, a terrible man. He did what he did not for God, but for gold. You can read in the history books how the story turned out and what became of the Aztecs, when all was said and done. Between war and the diseases the Europeans brought, it wasn’t long before none of them were left. The phrase “burn the ships” has become a metaphor, though, for any situation, military or otherwise, where turning back is not an option, and there is no possibility of retreat, and there’s nothing left to do but go forward or die.
“Burning the ships” has sometimes been applied to living the Christian life. It’s Elisha burning his plows and barbequing his oxen; it’s Jesus turning His eyes to the cross; it’s St. Paul calling us to crucify the sin in us and live our lives for Jesus. To “burn the ships” means to live for Christ and never look back. Lord, help us to do this!
Jesus came to this world, understanding there was no retreating and no turning back from what He had to do. The time was coming for Him to be taken back up to heaven, St. Luke says; and the only road to get there led through the cross. Jesus resolutely and steadfastly set out for Jerusalem – not for gold, but for God; not for His sake, but for ours. He knew there were people who hated Him in Jerusalem, and that the leaders of the Jews were plotting to have Him crucified. The disciples even asked Him, “Lord, why do You want to go there?” But He Himself was burning the ships for the sake of you and me.
Jesus sent messengers on ahead, our Gospel says, to go into a Samaritan village to get things ready for Him; to arrange a place for Him to stay, maybe a meal and a place to rest. But the people there refused to welcome Him, because He was headed for Jerusalem. The Samaritans had been willing to welcome Him well enough, when He was headed the other direction, but not now. The animosity between the Jews and the Samaritans ran deep; they couldn’t abide the idea that Jerusalem was the place where salvation would happen.
People today are OK with the idea of Jesus, with the sayings and teachings of Jesus, with the words of Jesus, with a vague, philosophical idea of Jesus - until it comes to confessing that He is the way and the truth and the life, and that the only way to get to heaven is through His cross. They’re OK with a Jesus who preaches love and peace, but not with a Jesus who calls us to burn the ships for His sake, and to pick up our crosses and follow Him.
James and John heard what the Samaritans said, and being the hot-headed souls that they were, it made them angry. They said, "Lord, do you want us to call fire down from heaven to destroy them?" But “Jesus turned and rebuked them, and they went on to the next village.” Burning the ships means giving up some things - like anger, and resentment, and hate, and old prejudices, and wanting to hurt those who do hurt to us. The way of the world is to retaliate, to get even, to strike back, eye for eye and tooth for tooth. But who has time for that, when we have all we can do to keep our eyes on the goal and our eyes on the prize and our eyes on the cross that can save us? Old Cortes was in it for the conquest and the glory and the gold; but I need all the energy I have just to hang on to my faith. So we walk on.
As they were walking along the road, a man said to Jesus, “I will follow You wherever you go.” And Jesus answers, "Foxes have holes and birds of the air have nests, but the Son of Man has no place to lay his head." Wherever I go? Really? Anywhere? Are you willing to be homeless for Jesus’ sake? Are you willing to be hated on account of Him? Are you willing to be crucified? Are you willing to give up everything for His sake and for the sake of your precious faith? Or is there a point at which you’d say, “No, Lord, no, not that, anything but that,” and turn back?
Jesus said to another man, “Follow me.” He calls every man to do that; the call to follow Him is universal for every human being. Peter said it right: “Lord, to who shall we go? You alone have the words of eternal life.” But this man answered, “Lord, first let me go and bury my father.” It’s not that the man’s father was dead, and he had to take a few days to take care of the funeral arrangements. His father was very much alive, maybe not even sick, maybe going to live another five or ten or 20 years, who knows? The man was saying, “As long as life is as it is, and until my situation changes, Lord, I can’t go with you. Not now, not today…”
Jesus was only asking him to do what Peter and Andrew had done – to leave father Zebedee in the family boat and leave the nets behind. The trouble is, “Lord, I’ll go later” comes awfully close to saying, “Lord, I might never get around to it at all.” Because that’s the way life works; time slips away. Jesus told him, "Let the dead bury their own dead, but you go and proclaim the kingdom of God."
Still another man said to Jesus, "I will follow you, Lord; but first let me go back and say good-by to my family." That’s Elisha, hemming and hawing and hesitating, before finally deciding to go all-in and kill the oxen and burn the plows. It’s the rich young man, who couldn’t bring himself to sell everything he had to follow after Jesus and walked away sad. It’s Jonah getting on the boat at Tarshish and going as fast as he could in the other direction. I’ll follow You, Lord, with all my heart, I promise I will; but first, but first, but first…
Jesus answered that man, "No one who puts his hand to the plow and looks back is fit for service in the kingdom of God." To be fit for service is to be as steadfast and resolute as Jesus was, as He set His eyes on Jerusalem and the cross. How can you be of use to Him otherwise? To plow a straight line – especially with a wooden plow and a mule or two like they did back in those days – you have to keep your eyes to the front, to where you’re going. Turn your eyes to the right or left, and your mules and your rig will follow your eyes, and the row you’re trying to plow will be a crooked mess. Same with the Christian life and our walk with Jesus; wherever you turn your eyes, your hands and your feet will follow. Burning the ships means keeping your eyes on the cross; we really do have no other place to go that will do us any good.
Jesus left heaven to come here for us. He did go to Jerusalem, where He was crucified, died, and was buried, and raised up again from the dead, so we could be forgiven for our sins and follow Him to heaven. Now that we know this, now that we’ve come to faith, now that we believe it, how can we go back? Is any retreat for us even possible? Where would we go? Is there any way to heaven for us but through the cross of Christ?
There’s precious little value in looking behind us. Behind us, there’s nostalgia, which is nice, and good and dear memories to hang on to. There’s not-so-good memories back there, too. The past has the memory of lessons learned in it, and mistakes can be learned from, if we’ve been blessed with the wisdom to do that. But still, the past is past.
And the future isn’t here yet, of course. None of us knows what will happen tomorrow, and it’s an uncertain world. Everything we’re familiar with and used to could be turned upside down in a moment; our lives can change on a dime, we all know that. So what we have it today – this good day, this moment to be alive. The ships are burning behind us, and life and whatever it will do to us is ahead of us, for however long the Lord decides to leave us here. What we do have for certain is Jesus Christ, who is the same for us yesterday, today, and forever. What we have is a Savior who loves us- enough to give us everything for our sakes and die for us – and who’s promised to be with us always, wherever He leads us and whatever in life He calls us to do.
And speaking of what He calls us to do, what does “burning the ships” mean for us in a practical sense? Making things “practical and applicable” is always a good idea, I think. Now, the Lord might call some of us to something big, like going to Seminary or becoming a missionary to someplace far away. But there are lots of smaller things, no less important, that our Lord might call us to do. There might be a neighbor the Lord wants you to talk to. Maybe there’s a young person or a child who needs a little encouragement or a nudge in the right direction. Maybe there’s an elderly person in a nursing home or stuck at home who could use a good word and a little company.
“Burning the ships” might mean clearing a little space on your already too-busy calendar. Maybe the Lord is calling you to the work of evangelism and reaching out to our neighborhood. (Come talk to me if He is!) Maybe He’s calling you to lead a Bible study. Maybe He’s calling you to volunteer with works of love and service in this community of ours. Wherever He’s calling you to go, or whatever He’s calling you to do, “burning the ships” means to obey the call and go. St. Paul calls this “crucifying the sinful nature with its passions and desires,” and “getting in step with the Spirit.”
I’ll leave you with the question the Lord asked the prophet: “What are you doing here, Elijah?” Why are you still sitting there under that tree, when there’s work to be done for Me in the world?
Dearest Lord Jesus, You came and burned the ships for us, leaving Your place and the glory of heaven to walk in this broken world, and to die for us. May this day find us willing to pick up our crosses and follow after You. Lord, may we put our hands to the work of Your kingdom and never look back. And as Your road to the cross ended in a glorious resurrection, we trust that whatever road You’re leading us on will bring us to our own resurrection when at last You come again. Stay with us, Lord, lead us and guide us, until You come for us at last. In Jesus’ name; Amen.