The real story of the universe is fundamentally different from the story we’ve been told. In acknowledging the poor itinerant non-violent rabbi, we are declaring that the story of life is not one of survival or the fittest, or kill or be killed. In proclaiming the name of Jesus, we defiantly declare that life is ruled, not by Richard Dawkins’ “Selfish Gene,” but by God’s unselfish love. Furthermore, that love is not just a good idea or interpretive framework we put on the universe. It’s not just a nice story we use to cope with life’s uncertainties or to get people to cooperate with one another. Acknowledging Jesus before people is declaring that such love is a reality, as substantial and real as any law of physics or biology.
Pam and I have a friend named Kathy who pastors a very special church out west. Kathy’s church focuses on being a place for people on the margins. Attracted by that vision, when the church began, a lot of people came. They all wanted to be a part of this cool new church. It was the hot new thing in town. Those who were already concerned about social issues like poverty and injustice were naturally attracted. Those who weren’t, were excited to learn about this new model of being a missional church. For others, it was simply the appeal of breaking the rules and shattering expectations of what a church should be.
However, as the church invited hurting people to come through its doors, things changed. Some of the people who came were struggling in recovery, or very sick, or mentally ill. Eventually some of those who were so initially enthused about the church stopped coming. They loved the idea of a cool church that had a mission of reaching broken people, but when that actually started happening their response was, “Oh. You guys were serious about that?” Many of them left Kathy’s church and went on to find other faith communities; ones that were casual, but less demanding. Churches with bigger children’s ministries. Churches where one could just keep a seat warm and not really have to rethink their life or change anything about themselves.
When we get serious about following Jesus, really following Jesus, life gets hard. Friendship with hurt and broken people is not always pleasant. Re-prioritizing our life, rethinking what we do with our money, giving the words of Christ final say in our decisions, doesn’t always feel good. It leads not only to giving away our money or possessions, but giving away our very selves. We are not wired that way. Millions of years of biology have programmed us to preserve, not deny, the self. When Jesus comes into our lives, his call turns our world upside down. He turns our priority list upside down so that the self is no longer number one with a bullet. That’s a frightening thought and many of us are cowards about it.
Is it any wonder that Peter, one of the original followers of Jesus, also resisted the call to deny his self? When examining Peter’s confession at Caesarea-Phillipi , we tend to focus on the positive. We hear it as the point at which one of Jesus’ previously dense disciples (and they could be quite dense), finally gets it. While others label Jesus as a prophet or reincarnation of one, Peter is the smart one who uncovers his secret identity, as if Jesus is some superhero. Not quite. In Mark’s version of the story, Peter is not praised as if he figured out a puzzle. Instead, the remainder of the story is one of angry rebuke between Peter and Jesus.
First Peter is angry. We can understand why. After all, he has just identified Jesus as the Messiah, God’s Anointed (ding, ding, ding, right answer!). Surely, being the right hand man to the Messiah would be a good thing for Peter. How cool would it be to be a part of the Messiah’s inner circle? A Messiah should be a huge success. While we can’t be sure how exactly Peter imagined that success, surely words such as “suffering” or “dying” were not in the job description. Yet that is precisely how Jesus describes his Messiahship; suffering, rejection and death. Sure there was that little part at the end about rising, but how could that be? Peter wants to be a part of the cool new God thing and Jesus is talking about dying. This angers Peter and he tells Jesus so.
Next, Jesus responds with anger. He looks at Peter and says, “Get behind me Satan!” Satan? This is hardly the nice church talk we expect from Jesus. Yet his response points us to yet one more thing that angered Jesus, which was cowardice. We see this in two ways. First, by telling Peter to get behind him, Jesus is making it clear who is the leader and who is the follower. Ironically, Peter has just named Jesus the Messiah, that is his Lord and Master, yet quickly tries to tell his Lord what to do the minute Jesus leads him to a place he doesn’t like. Second, calling Peter “Satan” recalls the Temptation story at the beginning of the Gospel. Rather than power, the temptation here is cowardice and self-preservation, with giving up on God’s path when the path gets difficult.
In the Gospel of Mark, this is the scene on which the whole story pivots. Previously, the plot focuses on Jesus’ teaching and healings in Galilee, incidents that often end with Jesus’ command to keep his identity secret. Everything changes when Peter identifies Jesus as the Messiah, the Christ. From this point on Mark’s story redirects its focus on Jerusalem, where Jesus would be rejected, suffer, die and be raised. Once Peter confesses Jesus as the Christ, the whole story pivots.
Likewise, when we call Jesus the Christ, the Messiah, our story must pivot as well. No longer can we live in Galilee, our religion limited to parables and healings. Once we follow Jesus, our story becomes also enriched with stories of rejection, suffering, death and new life. When Jesus invites us to pick up our cross and follow him, he isn’t referring to the random misfortunes of life that befall us all. He isn’t talking about a guilt-inducing mother who refers to her wayward son as her “cross to bear.” The cross we pick up when we follow Jesus is the rejection, suffering and even death that we will encounter precisely because we are following Jesus.
Our cross is in the unbearable weakness we feel when we try to love our enemies. It’s the dissatisfaction that eats away at us when don’t seek revenge and forgive instead. It’s the self-doubt we experience when we ask ourselves, “What in the world am I doing?” as we give away our hard-earned possessions and wealth. It’s the judgment we feel when we stand with the rejected, the scorned, and the excommunicated. It’s the haunting question that plays over and over in our heads asking, “Why am I doing all this for others? Shouldn’t I be doing something for me?” That is our cross. It is a cross of self-denial, of willingly laying down our own ego and need for self-affirmation.
But like Jesus, we are empowered by the fact that we lay down our lives willingly. This is why Jesus says it matters that we say in whose name we are acting. If you don’t acknowledge me before mankind, I will not acknowledge you before God, he says. In the early days of MTV, I remember a VJ asking a young Bono why he was talking about Jesus all the time. His answer was the words of Jesus, “If you don’t acknowledge me before men I won’t acknowledge you before my Father in heaven.” The interviewer was taken aback and quickly move on to asking him about his hair.
Some of us, while perfectly willing to forgive our enemies, feed the poor, and do unto others, are embarrassed to do those things in the name of Jesus, or at least tell people we are. Why not just support a charity or join a civic group? We may be embarrassed because the church has often done a poor job of living out those teachings of Jesus, so we don’t want to be associated with it. What better way to correct the misuse of Jesus’ name in the past, than to use it correctly and proudly in the present? Some of us are embarrassed to acknowledge Jesus as the inspiration behind our compassionate actions because we think that means we are putting down other religious traditions. Nothing could be further from the truth. Being particular about our spiritual path does not mean being exclusive. Boldly declaring who it is we follow is not putting down other religions. However, it is a damaging critique of the secular mindset and the powers of this world, of greed, violence, hatred and revenge. It is the antithesis of the forces inside of us of guilt, shame, addictions and resentment. Why are we such cowards about putting those things down in the name of Jesus?
Why must we acknowledge Jesus before people? Because to do so is to acknowledge that the real story of the universe is fundamentally different from the story we’ve been told. In acknowledging the poor itinerant non-violent rabbi, we are declaring that the story of life is not one of survival or the fittest, or kill or be killed. In proclaiming the name of Jesus, we defiantly declare that life is ruled, not by Richard Dawkins’ “Selfish Gene,” but by God’s unselfish love. Furthermore, that love is not just a good idea or interpretive framework we put on the universe. It’s not just a nice story we use to cope with life’s uncertainties or to get people to cooperate with one another. Acknowledging Jesus before people is declaring that such love is a reality, as substantial and real as any law of physics or biology.
Like the people in our friend’s church, you may have been attracted to church because you thought it would be nice for your family or your kids. You may have even thought it would be nice for you personally. While those things are all well and good, they must never get in the way of Jesus’ invitation to follow him, and basically die. Also like the people in my friend’s church, you may feel a bit frightened now think, “Oh, you guys were serious about that?”
Comments