Dying to Live | Sunday, March 8, 2026

Then he said to them all, "If anyone desires to come after me, let him deny himself, take up his cross daily and follow me. For whoever desires to save his life will lose it. But whoever loses his life for my sake will save it. For what profit is it to a man if he gains the whole world and is himself destroyed or lost? For whoever is ashamed of me and my words, of him the Son of Man will be ashamed when he comes in his own glory and in his Father's and of the holy angels. But I tell you truly, there are some standing here who shall not taste death till they see the kingdom of God." (Luke 9:23-27)

Jesus builds His movement with the most radical of invitations: "Follow me and die"—and only there do we discover that the loss is the path to incalculable gain.

God's Good Plans in Hard Places

It is good to be reminded that the Lord has good plans for us, even when those plans are hard to see in the midst of a difficult trial. The desert and the garden seem like contrasting things—the desert the place we don't want to be, the garden the paradise we long for. Yet it was in the garden of Gethsemane that Jesus suffered. Wherever we are, the Lord is with us, and He can remind us that He has good plans.

I think of Jeremiah 29, which many of you have memorized: "I know the plans I have for you, plans of peace and not of evil, to give you a future and a hope." The context is crucial—Israel was being carried into Babylon as exiles, their nation destroyed by Nebuchadnezzar. In the midst of what looked like the worst possible thing, God promised them seventy years in Babylon, but also a future and a hope. That framing is helpful for us.

From Disciples to Apostles

For several weeks in Luke 9 we have been in a very important transition. Luke is the longest of the four gospels, and here we reach the long path toward Calvary—the long path toward the cross. The tone and mood of Jesus changes here, and so does His interaction with His followers. Shortly we'll see that He "set his face like flint" toward Jerusalem—an idiom meaning nothing would deter Him from His purpose.

Notice the language. In Luke 9:1 Jesus called the twelve disciples to Himself and gave them power and authority. Ten verses later, in 9:10, it says "when the apostles returned." That change from disciple to apostle is key, and I am convinced this is the move God wants to make in every one of our lives. A disciple is fundamentally an interested follower. The mere fact that you made it here through the time change shows you're an interested follower of Jesus.

There is a spectrum to discipleship. Some of you are just beginning to be interested in the teachings and way of Christ. Others have walked with Him much longer and are further along, but still learners. Christ wants to move us from interested students to apostles—those engaged in His work, who recognize He has placed a call on them just as surely as He calls the missionary or vocational minister.

The Call Is for Everyone

The temptation, especially for those sitting in the chairs rather than standing up front, is to think the call of God is only for the ministerial class. But God has placed His call upon every single one of us. He has strategically placed each of you in important positions of influence—in your workplace, family, neighborhood, or school campus. There are people watching you, and God has placed you there on purpose to be a light to those in darkness.

I love Isaiah 6, also a transitional moment. Isaiah saw a vision of the heavenly temple, realized his own sinfulness, and confessed, "I am a man of unclean lips." An angel took a coal from off the altar and purged his sin. Then he heard the voice asking, "Whom shall I send, and who will go for me?" The call had been going on all along, but he didn't hear it until his sin was confessed and atoned for. The same is true for you and me. When our sin is atoned, suddenly we hear that call, and we're compelled by a new desire to say, "Here am I, Lord, send me." That new desire is an indication that God is working in you. But when you come to that point, things get real—and in this text, things get real.

Self at the Center

The ancient Greeks, some 2,500 years ago, had three maxims inscribed at the temple in Delphi: "Know thyself," "Nothing in excess," and "Surety brings ruin." Notice the foundation—self. Now contrast those with the maxims of 21st-century America: find yourself, be yourself, express yourself. Self is again at the center.

This is not merely cultural; it is something about our very nature after the fall of Genesis 3. The inclination of us all is to put self on the throne, and our culture stokes that fire. Self-preservation is the first law of nature. As a side note, one of the frightening realities of artificial intelligence is that, having been trained on human data, these systems also show an inclination toward self-preservation. Where did it learn that? From us. And the second law of human nature seems to be self-exaltation. Both run directly counter to the teaching of Christ in this passage.

The Radical Sayings of Jesus

Jesus said many radical things. When someone tells me they think Jesus was a good moral teacher, I'll ask what they like about His teaching—and often it's the spinning beach ball, no answer. But His sayings are radical. "Love your enemies." "Do good to those who hate you." "It is more blessed to give than to receive." "If your hand causes you to sin, cut it off, for it is better to enter the kingdom maimed than to be cast into hell."

The awesome thing about His radical sayings is that the nearer you draw to Him, the more you realize they are actually true. Here in this passage we have perhaps the pinnacle of the radical sayings. It's radical to our flesh because self-preservation is hardwired into our nature and self-exaltation is built into us by our culture. Yet Jesus says, "If you're going to follow me, deny yourself, take up your cross, and follow me daily." Who builds a movement by saying, "Follow me and die"? But that is exactly His call—a wholesale denial and death to self.

We have sayings for our self-rule: "I'm the captain of my own ship," "the master of my own destiny." I'd suggest our culture's "be yourself" mindset is one reason birth rates are declining, because the most selfless thing you can do is have children—now you're not living for yourself. People post videos about how glorious it is to sleep in and have no kids. Great, you found yourself—but consider what Jesus says here: you may gain the whole world and lose something far greater. By the way, who's the first person you look for in a group photo? Everyone else can look terrible, but if you look good, it's the best picture ever. Self is at the center.

The Invitation Is Open to All, the Cost Non-Negotiable

If Christ is going to be Savior, He must be Lord. And if Christ is Lord, then I am not—there is a new occupant on the throne of my life. That is a radical transformation our flesh repudiates and our culture finds offensive. You mean you'll filter every decision through "what does God want?" rather than "what do I want?" Yes. That is the Christian life, and it feels like the worst possible death, because it is yourself dying.

Notice verse 23: "He said to them all, if anyone." The "all" and the "anyone" are crucial. Jesus is not speaking only to the twelve, nor to some elite class of super-spiritual disciples. He speaks to everyone in earshot and everyone who has read these words over two thousand years. Point one: the invitation of Christ is open to all, but the cost is non-negotiable. You can almost imagine sitting Jesus down and saying, "You could grow this movement so much better if you offered a 180-day trial—try it out, send it back if you don't like it." But Jesus says, "No. Here's the call: deny yourself, take up your cross daily, and follow me."

Three Imperatives

First, deny yourself. The word "deny" is the same one connected to Peter's threefold denial of Jesus the night of His trial. As Jesus was led from Gethsemane to Caiaphas, Peter—who had vowed he would die with Him—three times said, "I do not know the man," once even cursing. Jesus is saying you must regard your flesh with that same disdain: I am no longer associated with that. Paul says it many ways—"If anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation" (2 Corinthians 5); "I have been crucified with Christ; I no longer live" (Galatians 2); reckon yourself dead (Romans 6:11); put off the old man (Ephesians 4). In a culture obsessed with discovering and inventing identities, Jesus says when you come to Him, that old self dies. You are Christ's possession, no longer your own.

Second, take up your cross. In 2026 we use the cross as a metaphor for any burden—"it's my cross to bear"—or we wear it as jewelry. In the first century it was none of that. It was an instrument of the worst kind of death, naked and shameful, agonizing. A. W. Tozer said there was one thing you knew about a man carrying a cross outside the city: he was not coming back. This is radical, horrible death.

Luke alone adds the small word "daily." Why? Because while crucifixion with Christ is a definitive act, it is also a daily reality—this flesh somehow wakes up every morning after I put it to death yesterday. And it wakes up first. This morning when my watch was buzzing in the dark, my flesh said, "Pastor Mark can preach—he always has a message. Stay in the warm bed." That's why "daily."

Third, follow me. At the very least this means I must emulate and imitate Him, making Him my pattern. But to follow His pattern I must know Him, and the only way to know Christ is as He has revealed Himself in the Scriptures—through time in His presence in prayer and worship. That involves more than casually listening to a Sunday message. At the very least, fact-check me. Go through the Scriptures, line upon line, precept upon precept, and find out who Jesus is.

Why Would I Do This? The Great Inversion

The obvious question is why—why deny myself when my nature says preserve yourself and my culture says exalt yourself? Verse 24 answers: "Whoever desires to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake will save it." Here is the great gain-loss inversion of the gospel. Fascinatingly, Jesus appeals to our desire for reward. Elsewhere He says, throw a party for the lame and the blind and you'll be rewarded in the age to come. He does the same here.

If you try to save your life and retain all your flesh desires, you will lose it—because ten out of ten people die. Our culture pours fortunes into epigenetics and immunotherapy to extend life, dreaming of 150 or 200 years. But the first eleven chapters of the Bible record people who lived nearly 900 years—Methuselah lived 969—and they died. Everything you amass, all the fame, power, and fortune, is utterly temporary. Go ahead, run on the hedonic treadmill; the speed and the elevation only keep climbing.

The Witness of Those Who Gained It All

The remarkable thing is that the people who have actually attained the things we chase tell us the same thing: "I got it, and I was miserable—now what?" Michael Phelps won an ungodly number of gold medals and then sank into a devastating depression. I'll never forget helping my friend Joey Buran, a professional surfer, move years ago. Out from under a spare bedroom bed came the Pipeline Masters trophy—the pinnacle of surfing—collecting dust. He told me how he'd worked so hard for it, stood on the platform with champagne everywhere, and then a storm rolled in. Within fifteen minutes everyone left, and he sat drenched on the beach thinking, "Now what?" That very loss of the gain ultimately brought him to faith.

Paul calls those things "rubbish"—trash—that he might gain Christ (Philippians 3). Solomon called it "vanity of vanities," soap bubbles. You finally grasp it and it dissolves in your hand. Every person striving today to gain and maintain the profits of this world will come to that same realization. May it not be too late. Point two: the non-negotiable cost is high—denial, death—but the return is incalculable. And the cost of *not* denying self is ultimately far higher. "What profit is it to a man if he gains the whole world and is himself destroyed or lost?" (Luke 9:25). You may enjoy the good things God gives, but recognize they are not God and not chief; compared to Him, they are nothing.

Ashamed of Christ

If you refuse to deny yourself and lay hold of Christ, your refusal is itself a rejection of Him—you are valuing something else as worth more than He is, declaring Him worthless by comparison. Verse 26: "Whoever is ashamed of me and my words, of him the Son of Man will be ashamed when he comes in his own glory and in his Father's and of the holy angels." Point three: the shame and cost of denying Christ will be far greater when He returns.

Note the words "when he comes." Jesus will come again. As Peter said, there will be mockers in the last days asking, "Where is the sign of his coming?" Two thousand years later, in sunny Southern California, it's easy to say that. But He will come again for you—whether corporately on the clouds in great glory, or in your own private meeting with Him one day. What a shame to stand before the Lord of glory and say, "I regarded the pleasures and prestige of this world as worth more than you." Isaiah 40 and 62 say that when He comes, His reward is with Him—but only for those who have claimed Him as their reward.

The Transfiguration: Glory After the Cross

Jesus closes this saying with a riddle: "There are some standing here who shall not taste death till they see the kingdom of God" (Luke 9:27). The very next verses explain it. About eight days later He took Peter, John, and James—the same three He took into Jairus's bedroom and later into Gethsemane—up a mountain to pray. As He prayed, His face was altered, His robe became white and glistening, and Moses and Elijah appeared in glory, speaking with Him of His decease, which He was about to accomplish at Jerusalem.

A few things stand out. First, He went up to pray—and while He prayed, the disciples slept. It means so much to me that the "big three," in both instances when Jesus took them to pray, fell asleep. As Alistair Begg says, "The best of men are men at best." Second, Moses and Elijah—the representatives of the Law and the Prophets—came, because the Law and the Prophets find their fulfillment in Christ and point to Him. Both had glorious mountaintop encounters with God on Horeb; now they stand with Christ on another mountain.

Notice what they discuss: His "decease." In the Greek the word is exodus. Moses had an exodus—redeeming an enslaved people from Egypt unto the promised land. Jesus accomplishes a far greater exodus—release from slavery to sin into the glory of the kingdom.

"Hear Him"

Third, Peter wakes from his stupor, sees the glory, and speaks before he knows what he's saying—be careful with that one. As Moses and Elijah are leaving (a beautiful picture: the Law and Prophets stepping aside because Christ is better and glorified), Peter blurts, "Master, it is good for us to be here. Let us make three tabernacles—one for you, one for Moses, one for Elijah." Then a cloud overshadowed them, and God spoke: "This is my beloved Son. Hear him." Those words are essentially, "Peter, be quiet—hear Him." When the cloud lifted, Moses and Elijah were gone, and Jesus was found alone, because He is better.

What Peter beheld was the glory of Christ that the Law and Prophets looked to. His inclination was to stay there in the presence of glory—as ours would be. But this was the future glory of Christ, and it could not fully come until they left that mountaintop and climbed another mountain called Calvary. The cross had to come first.

No Glory Without the Cross

We want the gain without the loss, the glory without the cross, the exaltation without the denial. But point four: the glory and gain of the kingdom are impossible without the cross. So Jesus took them down off that mountain, because before His glory could be revealed He had to climb another mountain carrying His cross. And He says to you and to me: if you want the glory—and it shall be revealed—deny yourself, take up your cross, and follow me. There is only one path to glory.

Our flesh looks at that and thinks, "I can't possibly do this; it's too much." But as you begin to follow Him by faith, He works in you both to will and to do His good pleasure. And you discover, as Paul did in Philippians 3, that the things you once counted gain are trash, that you may win Christ—for He is far better. The things of this world are worthless compared to His inestimable worth. Oh, that we would learn it now, and not only when we stand in His presence.

Closing Prayer

Lord, thank you for this challenging, radical teaching. I pray that you would help us to weigh it well this morning, and that we wouldn't immediately forget these things we've considered in the text today. May your word challenge us, that we would hear you say, "Come, follow me." Help us not to go away sad like the rich young ruler because we have so much prestige and power and possession, but to recognize that you are far better. God, help us to come to that realization. Help us to follow you by faith, and Lord, to rely upon your grace and strength to enable us to do so. We ask this in Jesus' name, and all those that agreed said, Amen.