I wonder if you’ve ever heard of the Society of Ploughmen? – nor had I. It was founded in 1972 to organise the British National Ploughing Championships which attract over 250 competitors each year; it now also aims to encourage the art, skill and science of ploughing land, and runs training sessions to those who want to learn more. The Society actively encourages “New blood” – there is a Young Farmers Championship as well as the main one – and it’s pleased to say that the number of female members is on the rise; I think that, at some point, the Society will have to change its name!

When we lived in West Africa we saw ploughing being done the hard way, by hand. Here in Britain it used to be done by horse power and then with traction engines stationed at each end of the field; but, as you’ll know if you watch “Countryfile”, it can now be a very sophisticated operation, with the tractor being controlled by a computer and GPS system which makes the driver virtually redundant. “No-plough” farming is being used in some places these days: apparently this can prevent sandy soil from being washed away, aid the retention of organic matter, and help to suppress weeds. Nevertheless I think the sight of ploughed fields will be with us for many years to come.

I doubt if Jesus knew the finer points of ploughing – after all, he was a carpenter, not a farmer. But his home-town of Nazareth must have been surrounded by farmland; and he certainly made many allusions to agriculture in his teaching. So we remember his stories of the sower whose seed fell on different kinds of soil, the vineyard owner who employed a ridiculous number of workers, the farmer who was horrified to see weeds growing amidst his corn, and the shepherd who left his flock in order to find the one sheep that had wandered away. These are some of his best-loved tales.

Today’s reading doesn’t actually include a story, but it does contain a reference to ploughing. For Jesus makes the comment that “no-one who puts a hand to the plough and looks back is fit for the kingdom of God”. And the picture is immediately clear. For, if anyone wants to plough a straight furrow, they must keep resolutely looking ahead at a fixed point on the far side of the field. If they get distracted, their furrow will inevitably become wiggly. And if they turn round to look behind them instead of ahead, then their work will soon start veering off-line. I guess that you’d no more look behind you when ploughing than you’d turn round to chat with your back-seat passengers while driving fast along the motorway.

What Jesus is talking about, of course, is his call to discipleship. For Luke has gathered here the stories of three people who at first seem enthusiastic about joining his band of followers. For just listen to the first, who says, “I’ll follow you everywhere – yes, everywhere – you go”. Jesus’ reply to him is, basically, “Are you absolutely sure? Have you thought through all that might be involved? Have you realised that – unlike the birds and the beasts – you may end up being ostracised by everyone and having nowhere to truly call home? This discipleship business isn’t all about being among the crowds and in the public eye, it isn’t exciting or glamorous. Are you really prepared for that?”

The second man Jesus also seems ready to follow him; however he inserts a caveat into his response. “I truly want to follow you”, he says, “but I can’t come just now as I’ve first got to bury my father”. Now that could have had two meanings. One was that his father had indeed recently died and he was waiting for the funeral rites to finish before he followed Jesus; a process which could have taken some time. However the father might have still been in rude health, which means that the man was saying, “Yes, I’ll follow you – once he’s gone” – which could have been years in the future! In either case, Jesus asks him to consider his priorities and decide which is ultimately more important: toeing his family’s line, or becoming a disciple of Jesus?

So we come to the third potential disciple. His response to Jesus’ call seems perfectly reasonable: “Of course I’ll follow you, but please let me do one thing first. It’s only right for me to say good-bye to the folks back home”. But Jesus makes an appalling reply: “No, I won’t permit that; you have to follow me now or not at all. For if you put your hand on the plough but then look back, you’re not fit for God’s kingdom, there is no way you can be a disciple”. This doesn’t just sound radical but inhumane. Is Jesus in the business of tearing at peoples’ emotions or ripping families apart for the sake of his mission? Is he advocating religious fanaticism of the worst kind?

We need to realise two things here. The first is that Jesus is deliberately overstating his case by using a vivid and unforgettable image, what in linguistic terms is called “hyperbole” – he actually does this quite often. More to the point, Jesus has clearly sensed something about this man that Luke does not tell us. Perhaps he knows that, if the man returns home, his good intentions will rapidly vanish as he gets sucked back into the routine of life. Perhaps he realises that, once the man gets home, other family members will pressurise him and say that he’s shirking his responsibilities by running off to be a disciple. Or perhaps he somehow knows that the man has been dithering for some time, and needs to be pushed into making his decision. Jesus knows that this is a pivotal moment, a never-to-be-repeated occasion, in his life.

I think we should notice exactly where Luke has chosen to set this story: it comes soon after a verse which marks an important staging-point or transition in his Gospel. For, if the first part of the Gospel is all about the circumstances surrounding Jesus’ birth, and if the next section tells us about his ministry and miracles, this verse marks the start of Jesus’ final journey, his decision to “set his face like a flint” towards Jerusalem. You might want to say – although it’s not strictly accurate – that the light-hearted fun and frolics of the early part of the Gospel have now come to an end, that things have now turned deadly serious. For Jesus has single-mindedly placed himself on a path which can only have one destination: the Cross. Nothing will be allowed to deflect him, cause him to deviate, or make him turn back. And any potential disciple must be prepared to walk with him.

So what might Jesus mean when he says, “You mustn’t look back”? For we can’t simply forget and ignore our past: indeed, our personal history and experiences have made us into the people we are. We ought also to be aware of our rich heritage; we can also remember our mistakes and so avoid repeating them. I’m sure that Jesus wouldn’t have disagreed with any of that; as a Jew he was proud of his nation’s past and made many references to it in his teaching. Although he did often challenge hoary traditions or rewrote the meaning of ancient laws, he never ignored them nor said they had no value. For Jesus was well aware that he stood in a line that could be traced back to Elijah, David, Moses, Abraham, even Adam. So I’m absolutely sure that he wasn’t telling his disciples to forget where they’d come from.

But Jesus was, I think, doing two things. First, he was surely saying, “Don’t let the past hold you back, don’t let it imprison you”. Because, while the past has shaped each one of us – indeed, it has shaped our families, our communities, our churches – there has to come a time when we say, “I have to make a break with all that”. For these three people, the particular issue they faced was breaking away from their family ties and traditions. It was clearly costly to say, “I’m deciding to follow Jesus, and I won’t let you stop me” in a society where family or clan bonds were much stronger than they are in ours. But even we sometimes have to make a difficult choice between agreeing to our family’s demands and following Jesus. Although we – I hope! – love our families, the “right thing to do” doesn’t always fall on the side of doing what they want; families don’t always come first.

And breaking with the past has another meaning: it may involve decisively relegating memories into the vault of history and making sure that they no longer control our present. Now I know that some people have suffered terrible abuse or trauma which cloud their entire lives; those things are appalling although perhaps God’s grace may help them to achieve a certain degree of release from them. But I’m really thinking of other things that may have happened in our past, even positive memories of family or church or personal experience. These may give us a rosy glow inside when we think of them and even help us to keep going nowadays. But we do have to say, “Those things were great. I can look back upon them with fondness. But they were then, and now we’re in a different time and place. Yes; I can get out those memories and look at them, just like I do with old photos; but I can’t go back to those days, nor must I”.

At one time I attended a Pentecostal church which encouraged people to give what they called “testimonies” – tell their experiences of God. There was one elderly lady (at least, she seemed elderly to me then!) who, almost every week, got up and told us the story of her conversion to Christ, many years before. Now it may well have been that this lady was in the early stages of dementia, and wasn’t aware that she was repeating herself. And it was certainly good that she’d had a vivid and personal experience of God. But sometimes she gave the impression that she was carrying around a spiritual suitcase which she occasionally opened to show the treasures within. I wanted to say, “That was lovely, that was wonderful. But what did God do for you yesterday?” We can’t always be looking back; that can act as a brake, or a hindrance; it can even mean that we stumble forward without looking ahead.

You see, I don’t think that Jesus was only telling his disciples, “Don’t look back”; I think he was also saying, “Do look forward. Know where you’re going. Keep your destination in view”. For, just as a ploughman keeps his eyes fixed on his mark at the far end of the field, so Jesus kept his face set towards the cross. He knew exactly where he was going. He knew why he was going there. He knew the ultimate cost of his journey. Yet he continued straight ahead to Jerusalem, without flinching. And he called his disciples to do exactly the same.

That’s not easy. Jesus, with his spiritual insight, knew exactly where he was headed: we do not. And it’s not far wrong to say that Christians are nomads as much as pilgrims; while we hope that God is leading us by his pillar of flame and smoke, we find that very hard to discern and are worried that we may spend more time wandering aimlessly through life then decisively moving ahead. All that means that it is very much easier to look back at what we may be about to leave behind, to remain in the security of what we can be sure about, to believe that what we possess now is more tangible than any blessings we might accrue in the future, than to move forward in faith.

And yet: “No one who puts a hand to the plough and looks back is fit for the kingdom of God”, said Jesus. Those words still niggle, challenge, even annoy us. They seem unreasonable, impractical, extreme; yet we know that they contain more than a grain of truth. And so, whether we are wondering whether to start out on the great life of faith with Christ for the first time, or whether we are simply taking a breather after many years on the road, let us make sure that we do, indeed, put “past behind us, self on the cross, and Christ upon the throne”, asking Christ “in living power to remake us” and help us “live for him alone”. For Christ is the Lord of all that lies ahead.