Read

Luke 14:33 “In the same way, those of you who do not give up everything you have cannot be my disciples.”

Think

If Jesus were building a marketing campaign, Luke 14 wouldn’t make the cut. No catchy slogans. No inspiring soundbites. No soft invitation. Just a steady, unfiltered call to give up everything. Not part. Not most. Not what’s convenient. Everything.

And that’s where a lot of people turn away. We want to follow Jesus. But do we want to give him everything? Our plans. Our comfort. Our timeline. Our image. Our income. Our habits. Our control.

It feels like too much—until we realize what we’re being invited into. Because this isn’t just about what you give up. It’s about who you gain. Jesus isn’t just saying, “Come die.” He’s saying, “Come live in a way you’ve never known before. Come be free. Come find what’s real.”

He knows that “everything” is where the real transformation happens. Not when we add him to our schedule, but when we surrender our schedule. Not when we invite him to bless our dreams, but when we hand him the pen entirely.

That level of surrender feels radical in a world obsessed with self. We're told to curate, promote, upgrade, and protect our personal brand. Even our spirituality can become part of that image. Church on Sundays. Bible verse in bio. Just enough Jesus to feel better—but not so much that it interferes.

But Jesus refuses to be an accessory to our lives. He came to rebuild our lives from the ground up. And according to him, the entry point is surrender. “All in” isn’t a personality type. It’s the definition of discipleship.

When Jesus says, “Give up everything,” he’s not being dramatic. He’s being clear. Because if you’re holding anything back, that thing will eventually compete with your obedience. It will become the line you won’t cross. The area you won’t yield. And over time, it will become the ceiling of your spiritual growth.

Following Jesus requires full access. He won’t force his way in—but he won’t settle for part-time loyalty either.

Think of it like signing a blank contract. No terms. No conditions. Just your name at the bottom, and Jesus gets to fill in the rest. It’s scary—but it’s also freeing. Because the One writing the terms is good. And his plans are better than ours could ever be.

That’s the paradox of the gospel: You lose everything, and in return, you gain more than you knew to ask for.

We’ve seen this played out in the lives of ordinary people with extraordinary obedience. A young man named John Chau felt called to bring the gospel to an unreached people group on a remote island in the Indian Ocean. He knew the risks. The people were known to be hostile, violent, and entirely cut off from the outside world. He trained. He prayed. He prepared. And eventually, he went. Within hours of landing, he was killed.

The world called him reckless. But John wasn’t trying to make a name for himself. He had already given up his name. He had counted the cost. And he had decided that even his life wasn’t too much to give.

You may never be called to risk your life on a remote island—but you are called to the same level of surrender. Because every follower of Jesus has the same job description: die to self, live for Christ. That doesn’t mean you live a life of misery. Quite the opposite.

It means your joy is no longer tethered to your circumstances.
Your peace isn’t based on control.
Your identity isn’t tied to what you achieve.
Your security isn’t defined by your bank account.
Your value doesn’t fluctuate with people’s opinions.

Because when Jesus becomes your everything, you’re finally free. You stop gripping what can’t last. You stop performing for what can’t satisfy. You stop comparing yourself to stories God never wrote for you. You stop needing backup plans. You start living the life you were made for.

When Jesus is your only priority, the pressure lifts. The weight shifts. The mission becomes clear: know him, love him, obey him, and invite others into the same freedom.

So yes—he asks for everything. But what he gives in return is immeasurably more.

He gives purpose that pain can’t cancel.
He gives grace that failure can’t outpace.
He gives peace that chaos can’t shake.
He gives resurrection on the other side of surrender.

And most of all—he gives himself.

Which means, in the end, the question isn’t, “Is Jesus asking for too much?” It’s “Is there anything else really worth giving my life to?”

Apply

Take inventory. What are you still holding back? Name it. Write it down. Bring it to Jesus and lay it at his feet. Then say this out loud: “Jesus, you can have everything. There’s no part of my life I want to keep from you.”

Pray

Jesus, I want to give you everything—not just what’s easy or public or acceptable. I don’t want to hold anything back. Show me where I’m still clinging to control. Help me release it with open hands. You are worth it all. In Jesus’ name. Amen.