These were painful words for my friend to hear, it was a price he found hard to pay. Born into a Muslim family in rural Ethiopia my friend is both the first born and eldest son. It should be his duty and honour to bury his father when the time came.

But my friend had become a Christian and had for many years and in many ways been cut off from his family because he had chosen to follow Jesus Christ. If he wanted to visit his family, security was always an issue. His own life was at risk, there were people who wouldn’t have to think too long before killing him because of his apostasy. But his own family would face threats and problems simply because he was there. They would face pressure to give him up, to overturn the hospitality and security of their home. And although over the years since his conversion he had slowly rebuilt some contact with his family, he no longer held the position of respect within the family. He was more outsider and outcast than eldest son and heir.

So he did not get a message when his father died, only when he was buried. Too late to make the long journey to his home village. No need to come, “Today we buried your father.”

“This was the greatest persecution I have suffered,” my friend said. And as someone who has been in jail for his faith this is saying something.

In Luke 9:59 Jesus calls a man to follow him but his father has died and he says, “Lord, let me first go and bury my father.” It’s not an unreasonable request by any stretch of the imagination. Honouring our parents in life is a duty from God, honouring them in death a social one but a duty all the same.

Yet Jesus’ reply is astonishing, “Leave the dead to bury their own dead. But as for you, go and proclaim the kingdom of God.”

Having recently taken the body of my own father to cremation, I know there would have been significant family pain had I, his son, said I can’t be there because I have kingdom work to do.

Matthew 8:21 adds a little wrinkle to the tale, saying this man was one of Jesus’ disciples. He was already following Jesus but now faced a huge test – to leave the mission, to leave Jesus’ side and return to bury his father.

It’s not an exact comparison but I thought of this while listening to my friend, because of Jesus, because of his faith in Jesus he had to let the dead bury the dead. Because he has chosen to proclaim the kingdom of God he received the message, “Today we have buried your father.”

We westerners often struggle to grasp the cost and the pain that following Jesus sometimes entails, we are so discipled into comfort and find anything hard or remotely difficult so at odds with the idea of a “God who loves me.” Yet for some of our brothers and sisters these words are real, this is the price tag on following Christ and they willingly endure it, they put their hand to the plough and they don’t look back. May we, if we are ever asked to, do the same.