Counted Up

The joke goes that there are two seasons in Montana: winter and road construction. Being from Montana, I laugh at this joke’s truth—especially because snow started falling months ago in Montana and also because the main road in my hometown was dug up twice this summer. 

With a little tweaking, I may be able to apply this joke to Moldova, too: change “road construction” to plain “construction,” and you’ll have it just about right.

From almost any vantage point in Chişinău, one can view multiple buildings under construction. I have never taken a car ride during which I did not see unfinished shells of houses or churches. From vineyard homes to apartment complexes to Orthodox basilicas, stone-and-mortar skeletons protrude from the cityscape like vertebrae on backbones.

On several occasions the Raatzes have pointed out uncompleted homes, churches, and businesses and have said, “This was under construction when we moved here ten years ago; who knows how long it’s been ‘in progress.’” Some of these buildings have been worked on little by little, but others have been left alone indefinitely, untouched and unimproved, with apparently no builders’ intentions to finish it. 

This is a house that is being built on the edge of the vineyards in the village of Durlești, where I live.

After hearing short background stories, I look at these buildings with sadness and think, These builders have not counted the cost. 

 This phrase-turned-cliché ("count the cost") has its roots in the book of Luke. 

In Luke 14:28, Jesus says, "But don't begin until you count the cost. For who would begin construction of a building without first calculating the cost to see if there is enough money to finish it?” Rhetorical question. In many translations of Luke’s gospel, this verse is in the middle of a paragraph which extends from verses 25-33. In the NLT and the NIV, biblical scholars have added the heading “The Cost of Being a Disciple” to this paragraph, and nearly all translations commonly used in the U.S. today which title this section include the words cost and disciple.   

In this passage, Jesus is testing the discipleship of the “large crowds that were going along with Him” (Luke 14:25). Disciples are not mere believers. They’re not just good-intentioned people. They are people with follow-through. Jesus’ words here speak not only to the moment in which the decision to follow Him is made; His words here are more about the following that ensues once that decision has been made. And disciples aren’t reckless, headlong launchers; they are careful counters.

The Greek verb rendered in English as counts in Luke 14:28 is transliterated pséphizó and means to reckon, to compute, or to calculate (Strong’s Concordance). The act of counting as illustrated in verse 28 is not only a mathematical tallying. This counting is also qualitative in nature. This act of counting is a cognitive grasping of what Jesus requires of us as disciples. Jesus asks us to recognize the ramifications of discipleship; this isn’t just a day job. This is a life-job.

By talking about builders and their projects, Jesus is using a concrete example to explain his previous statement,  the truth recorded in verse 27: “And anyone who does not carry his cross and follow me cannot be my disciple” (Luke 14:27). He says this before carrying His own cross, but He had already counted the cost of being obedient to His God-given mission and was ready to follow through with it. 

During my time in Chişinău I have not yet met even one Moldovan builder, but I believe I am venturing validly when I say that it is possible that some of the builders here who have abandoned their projects simply did not count the cost before they started. Granted, there are far more completed buildings here than unfinished ones, but I have seen many more unfinished buildings here than in America. And this is due in part to the fact that in America, most buildings are built on demand. A church is bursting at the seams with new worshipers. A growing family keeps adding new members. A business is expanding its production line. And for reasons like these, construction ensues while the need is urgent. So in America, if a building takes a Moldovan length of time to be built, people question whether that building is necessary. If it were, it would have gone up right away. Or at least it would have gone up as quickly as it could have within the constraints imposed by size and money. No multi-year gaps. Unless the builders want to become a laughing stock. Laughter in such cases echoes those whom Jesus mentions in Luke 14:29: “[f]or if he lays the foundation and is not able to finish it, everyone who sees it will ridicule him[.]”

However, in the past twelve weeks I have gained glimpses into the Moldovan mindset and Eastern European culture, and although I have only begun my journey of understanding the way of thinking on this side of the globe, I will offer a view of construction through cultural lenses. And this possibility presents a brighter view of the situation in Moldova. 

You see, I’ve asked people why so many building projects take so long. And the most frequent answer I receive is that people here build until they run out of money for supplies; then they leave their project to work for a while, even for years, to get enough money for materials, and they resume building. This initially didn’t make sense to me until I remembered that this is a third-world country and is the poorest country in Eastern Europe.

Due to lack of funding, this is the accepted—or perhaps only— cycle which people have to endure to complete their building project. They have counted the cost, and they are willing to take the time and work the years and halt and do whatever it takes for how long it takes to complete their project. 

So maybe the cost for them is alternating years of construction and years of working to garner enough money to purchase more construction materials. And maybe the cost also includes being misunderstood by foreigners from countries whose economies cause construction to be viewed in an entirely different way.  

When I first saw the unfinished buildings, I thought that people simply didn’t care enough to complete what they started. What I saw with outsider-eyes as neglect, perhaps those on the inside see as dedication. Some builders are dedicated enough to stay with a project even though it will take an exorbitant amount of time. 

To what is God calling you? It may be costly. It may cause you to be misunderstood. But is it worth it? 

Rend Collective Experiment, a group of worship artists from Northern Ireland, wrote a song about counting the cost of following Jesus. Instead of pasting all the verses here, I’ve selected the most pertinent: 

I’m saying "Yes" to You / And "No" to my desires / I’ll leave myself behind / And follow You

[…]

I’ll chase You through the pain / I’ll carry my cross / ‘Cause real love is / Not afraid to bleed

And the chorus:

I’ve counted up the cost / Oh, I’ve counted up the cost / Yes, I’ve counted up the cost / And You are worth it.

Once we “count up” the cost—to borrow UK phraseology—will we see the end from the beginning? In an ultimate sense, yes. The end-all goal of following Jesus in this life is living with Him in the next. But in a specific sense, no. Unless God gives us as individuals specific revelation, we cannot know in detail the ramifications of our choices to follow His call; that is not our burden to bear. The point is not to take everything into account once God has spoken and see if it is worth it; the point is, all things considered, to realize that God is worth it. Rend Collective got it right: I’ve counted up the cost / And You’re worth everything. 

How do we know that we have counted the cost correctly, or even that we have counted the cost at all? First, we can look for biblical patterns. God calls all people to relationship with Him. As daughters and sons of God, we have some universal, shared callings: we are called to follow Jesus. But in what ways we are called to do that—that is where the callings vary. Some are called to make very visible, inspirational sacrifices. Others are not. All callings are equally valid not because of their measurability but because of the One who calls. To use the metaphor of American-builders to Moldovan-builders: Same call (to build). Different means (of fulfilling the call). Equally valid methods (situationally speaking).

What is the cost you’re called to count? What if counting the cost looks different for you than it does for others—much different? Remember that your primary responsibility is to the One who calls, not to those who watch your calling play out. No matter what it looks like to others, be faithful to Christ’s call on your life, for “[He] is your life” (Colossians 3:4), and “[f]aithful is He who calls you, and He also will bring it to pass” (1 Thessalonians 5:24). But this is jumping ahead. Just a little. Because none of this is possible without counting the cost—the cost of His call.

God, help us to finish what we start. Better yet, God, help us to count the cost before we start. And if we don’t count, then don’t let us start it. Because without counting the cost, we cannot finish.

Have you counted?

Having done my math,

Renée