Friday Five: What's New?

It's been way too long since I have posted a non-sermon post. Way too long. It's been a crazy couple of months, but hopefully things are slowing down a little. I hope to have time to breath and blog again, maybe even more than before. But for now I'm easy my way back in with a light Friday Five. Here's what we've got:

"Please share with us five things you like *especially* when they are new."

1. Books - to a fault. I'm weird about borrowing library books. I just can't do it.
2. Black roller ball pens.
3. Journals - They just seem full of promise!
4. Christmas CDs
5. Socks

Bread for the Journey

Exodus 12:1-11
Luke 22:1, 14-28

The dispute over who is the greatest among the disciples is recorded in some way in several gospel accounts. In fact the Mark version of the argument was the central text in our worship even just about a month ago. I have to admit, for this reason, I felt a temptation to deviate from the worship and devotional materials provided by the Finance and Stewardship committee for this stewardship season. It was feeling a little redundant at first. But, obviously, I didn’t. Yes, we have heard the same basic outline – the disciples argue about which among them is the greatest, but we also have differences to the story, differences that bring us a different word from God.

In Mark, we heard about them arguing on the road immediately after hearing Jesus’ second prediction of his suffering and death – the argument pointing out their total cluelessness over what Jesus thinks it means to be great. In Matthew the argument comes after a teaching about taxes and the question of honoring the rules of the status quo. The argument we heard today, though, takes up an entirely different meaning because of where and when it happens.

It doesn’t happen on the road. It doesn’t happen in front of the crowds. It doesn’t happen while Jesus is out and about in the countryside ministering to the crowds and introducing his disciples to a new way of life. It isn’t during a test posed by his challengers. It happens here. It happens at the table, a very specific table, the Passover table, the last table Jesus will share with his disciples on this side of eternal life, and that setting makes all the difference.

The Passover celebration brings with it a deep and abiding connection with history, the saints of the faith, those remembered as the greatest of the faith tradition, like Moses or Elijah, who figure prominently in the Passover liturgy and traditions.

Take Moses. He was raised a foreigner in the palace. He never fully fit in. We see him struggling as a young adult with who he really was, where he really belonged. Then he is called to lead, but he has a speech difficulty. It doesn’t seem like a great match, really. Identity crisis, self-esteem problems, problems with public speaking. And this is the guy we remember for his obvious greatness? I’m sure it didn’t seem so great in the moment. Even the Israelites he helped liberate complained against and about him. Why didn’t you leave us in Egypt to die, they cried while wandering around in the desert for 40 years? That doesn’t sound so great.

Then what about Elijah and the other prophets? Sure their words to the people of Israel and Judah are inspiring and admirable after the fact, but hardly anyone would consider them great in their own time. Preaching to the people, hounding them even, calling them to repentance and a new way of living before God, rarely won them friends and great influence. It hardly seemed to work at the time. Despite their efforts, God’s people still ended up in exile in Assyria and Babylon. Their homeland and their temple destroyed more than once by occupations from all sides. Elijah and the other prophets – they had their moments, but in terms of overall effectiveness in their jobs in their generations – not too many would be considered great.

Yet the greatness of these saints isn’t doubted today. They, their words, and their work are honored in memory, lifted up in ritual, studied for emulation and spiritual growth. We know they are great and don’t doubt that or dispute it, but what made it true?

I’d say it was their faithful service. Their faithful and humble service to God and others. Their response to God’s call to put the needs of the community above their own reputation, their own comfort, their own popularity and credibility, even their own desires, in order to follow God’s call and be sent to serve the people. Moses had a pretty cushy life in the palace. He had power over others. He lived in luxury with servants serving him. He was pretty disconnected from his oppressed ethnic and religious community, and could have continued living that way if he could have just pushed down his worries about the way the people were being treated. He could have continued to live in a position of authority over the slaves. But he didn’t.

Yes, he was the leader of the Israelites, but his leadership was in obedience to God, for the good of the people. He served them by working for their good, risking his power and his position to free them from Pharaoh, going on their behalf into the dangerous and overwhelming presence of God, enduring the discipline of God for their transgressions. Moses was great not because he wanted to be or tried to be or even ASKED to be. Moses was great because he humbly served God and his community.

And what now of the circumstances of this dispute among the disciples in Luke? What significance do they lend to its meaning for us today? It was the observance of the Passover. It was the time when the Jewish people of God remembered and celebrated the miracle of their exodus from slavery in Egypt, the leadership and faithfulness of Moses, Elijah, and the other saints who preceded them. It was the time of year when they honored and worshiped God for sending them a leader, a servant of God’s will and a servant of God’s people, who led them into the Promised Land, a time of year maybe, when they who lived under the rule of the Romans again longed for a sign of their chosenness, their greatness before God and the world.

It was also, we are told, when the hour had come. Satan had come to Judas Iscariot. He had conferred with the chief priests and officers of the temple about how to betray Jesus. He was now on the lookout for his perfect opportunity when no crowd would be present. Having entered Jerusalem a few days earlier to shouts of, “Blessed is the king!” Jesus and the disciples were huddled away in a borrowed room in a town that was turning hostile. Daily, he was preaching to crowds peppered with spies who were out to catch him, to challenge his word and question his authority.

But even in the face of this hostility he continued his ministry, he continued to serve God. Cleansing it first of all injustice and greed, Jesus preached in the temple to everyone who would listen. He faced challenge upon challenge from this opponents, standing up for the message God sent him to deliver. He wept and prayed over the city of Jerusalem.

He didn’t hide away to protect himself. He didn’t stay out of the limelight to put his safety first. He didn’t relish in the crowd’s shouts from Palm Sunday, “Glory in highest heaven” excusing himself from the dangerous and foreboding work still to be done. He didn’t leave the people who had not yet heard, not yet believed his divine message out in the dark. He served them. He served them with love and served them with urgency. He served them as God had sent him to do. He served them, setting aside his safety. Setting aside his concern for his future, he served them. And likewise he served the disciples at the Passover table.

Likewise he serves US at this table. He serves us. Jesus is the host of the celebration we share today. He has provided the gifts, the bread we will break together, the cup we will pour for all. He provides the seed and the wind and the rain that causes it to grow. He gives the life and energy and means to those who harvest and ship, who pound and mill, who bake and press, who sell and buy, who prepare and serve these elements to us this day. He is the host, and the source, and the grace-filled Spirit we receive in this sacrament, but he is also the servant, the one whose body was broken that we might have life, the one who meets all our needs, satisfies our deepest hungers, and the one whose blood was poured out to quench our most desperate thirst. He is the example for us to follow. He is God calling us join his ministry.

The Israelites in Egypt ate the Passover with their traveling pants on, their shoes on their feet, their walking sticks ready to go. They ate their meal in a hurry, knowing that it wasn’t an end to their story itself, but it was just the beginning of their journey. This is how we should eat at the Lord’s Table. This is how we should worship in God’s presence. Our traveling clothes should be on. Our shoes should be on our feet. Our walking sticks should be in our hands, because this table, this grace, this love and forgiveness of God that we receive together in the sacrament is not an end in itself. It is just the beginning.

It is our bread for the journey. It is the sustenance we need for our lives of service to God and others. It is just the beginning, the example even, of our life in Christ. As he has freely given himself to us, so we are called to greatness, not through some special status at his right hand or as a guest of honor at the banquet. We are called to greatness by freely serving others as he serves the world, selflessly, indiscriminately, and among the least of these, the outcast, the shunned, the discarded of society. We are called to greatness not that will be recognized in this time, in this age, but greatness that will be recognized by God when someday we will join the great cloud of witnesses who are blessed to hear, “Well done, good and faithful servant.”

The Call to the Depths

Luke 5:1-11
Monday nights are swimming lesson nights for our family. I say for our family because William is still in a parent-child class, so when swimming lesson night comes along it means some parent must join a child in the pool. Two weeks ago it was my turn. While I was in the zero entry shallow pool with William, Karoline was with her class in the big pool. This is her first session with lessons in the big pool. She’s learning to swim, but she is by no means a strong swimmer. She’s getting better, but she’s really much more comfortable in the end where she can touch the bottom.

The other week her class started in the shallow end of the pool, but I could tell as the lesson went on it wasn’t the teachers’ goal to stay there. They had the noodles, the floating devices out, and the teachers were sort of coaxing the class into deeper and deeper water.

After the lesson, when Karoline was giving me her play-by-play version of what happened, she said to me, “Mommy, they wouldn’t let me stay where I could touch. They kept calling my name and making me kick farther and farther to the deep end. It was so so scary!”

And it was for her. It was terrifying. Try to remember that time, if you can, when you first felt that feeling of NOTHING below you in the water. How uncertain it felt, unfamiliar, confusing even to have nothing on which to place your foot, to have no ground on which to stand. Imagine, remember if you can, what it felt like to have that chaotic emptiness, even in the stillest of pools, that feeling of the unknown, wide, empty space just below the surface of the water that seemed endless, swallowing even. Remember the deep water.

The deep water wasn’t unfamiliar to Simon and the rest of the fishermen. They knew exactly where it was and EXACTLY how to avoid it. There was no tricking them out there with floating noodles or promises of gold stars. They knew the depths were nothing to mess with. The depths represented chaos, the wild uncontrollable power to destroy and overwhelm. The depths have only ever been contained by the one who is uncontainable. The depths have only ever been restrained by God. No one in their right mind would CHOOSE to set sail for the depths, no matter how desperate.

And those fishermen were desperate. All night long they had fished the usual spots, the spots flush with fish to feed themselves and their families. All night long they had cast their nets and waited, expectantly, hopefully, to pull them in full and heavy. But it was all for nothing. Catching nothing they pulled their boats to shore and began to clean the debris from the night’s fruitless efforts out of their nets.

So really, Simon had nothing to lose when the wandering preacher asked him to put his boat out a little way so that he could speak to the crowds of men and women going about their daily chores on the shoreline. There weren’t any fish to clean and prepare anyway. He took the man out and listened to him teach with authority enough to warrant calling him “Master.” But when the man made an even more ridiculous request, Simon had to argue.

Go out again into the water, and not just the water, the deep water? Cast his nets out there after a full night of catching nothing? Who is this man and what is he thinking? Does this wandering preacher think he can do better than the professionals?

And go out into the deep water, is this guy kidding? It’s the deep water! It’s unknown. It’s murky. It’s dangerous. It’s terrifying. It’s so, so scary. It’s everything Simon feared. It’s everything we fear. It’s lack of control. It’s where we can’t touch. It’s loneliness. It’s out of reach. It’s just plain crazy. No one sails into the depths on purpose. No one faces those fears if they have a choice. In fact lots of us ignore the depths even if we DON’T have a choice. We make the choice NOT to learn to swim, not to face the pressure that is mounting, not to deal with the reality that is right in front of our faces – the reality that we can’t control it all, we can’t be safe all the time. We can’t avoid the depths.

Illness comes. We don’t invite it in, but it comes and it can grip lives. Bankruptcy comes, we don’t go looking for it, but it comes and it beats our spirits down. Joblessness comes, we don’t give them up willingly, but it comes into our lives and shakes the very foundations of our security. The depths come, and while some of us would rather turn our heads and try to ignore their presence, steer our boats around them, avoid facing the reality of their tumult, Jesus has another idea all together.

“Put out into the deep water and let down your nets for a catch,” he invites. We may think he knows NOTHING about what we’re going through when he invites us to follow, but we have so much to learn.

“Put out into the deep water and let down your nets for a catch,” he calls. Come with me into the deepest, darkest places in your life, the deepest darkest places in your soul. I’m going with you, and there you’ll find a catch, there I will touch you with a blessing.

"Put out into the deep water and let down your nets for a catch,” he PROMISES. Your fear can’t stop you. Your fear doesn’t stop me. Together, let’s go to the depths and see what blessings we can catch.

The deep end of the pool at swimming lessons seems a terrifying thing at first. It really does, but it doesn’t come without its rewards. Immediately after declaring it “so so scary,” Karoline continued to tell the story of how she made her way out there. “My teacher kept calling my name, so I just kept kicking. You know, it’s not swimming if my feet are touching the ground.”

She’s exactly right. It’s not. It’s not swimming if your feet are touching the ground. It’s not fishing if you aren’t throwing your nets into deeper water. It’s not believing, if we aren’t trying things that seem outrageous when we already feel like we’re in over our heads.

The deep waters aren’t the first or the last place any of us wishes to be, but the deep waters are there, and sometimes, just sometimes, like it or not, we have to go right into the middle of them. And right there in the middle of them, right there where the bills are piling up, right there where the kids are getting sick. Right there where our parents are aging, right there where memories are fading, marriages are crumbling, friendships are slowly slipping away. Right there in the middle of it all, sitting next to us in the boat is Jesus telling us to cast our nets, telling us to trust him, calling us to follow.

Because the deep water is no time to turn away. The deep water is no time to lose faith or give up following. The deep water is where we learn to swim. The deep water is where our believing becomes real, not because of some false promise that God will magically turn all our tribulations into triumphs. Not because our risk is worthy of a reward or passing the test will grant us admission to God’s treasure trove. The deep water is where our believing becomes real because it is there we have to trust and believe that the God we know in Jesus Christ is not afraid of the depths we find most frightening.

Whatever Jesus said from the boat to the crowds must have been very convincing, because Simon went. He put his boat out in the deep water, against his better judgment, against the disapproving and flabbergasted looks from shore. He pushed his boat out farther and farther into the lake of Gennesaret until he reached the deep waters. There he and his partner put out their nets and caught so many fish the nets were bursting at the seams. They pulled in more blessings than their boat could carry. They piled so many fish in there the boats they even began to sink!

Simon knew then who he had met in the deep water. He knew then he would believe the truth and this comfort this man would speak – “Do not worry about your life. Are you not of more value than the birds?” “Daughter, son, your faith has made you whole.” “I will not leave you alone. I am coming to you.” “And remember, I am with you always, to the end of the age.”

The God we know in Jesus Christ is MORE than capable of using the deep waters as a place of revelation, if we are willing to meet God there. The God we know in Jesus Christ can turn the deep waters into a source of blessings more than we can carry. Even in the middle of the deepest waters, we can find friends and companions for the lonely journey. We can find relief when commitments are overwhelming. We can find compassion in cold and impersonal systems. We can find understanding when all our cries have gone unheard.

In the deep end we learn how to swim. In the deep waters, we learn how to follow and believe.

Bad Newsletters

So this weekend I found a couple of features, "The Compliment Game" and "The Thank-You Note Game," over at Hedwyg's place that I found hysterical. That discovery and a Facebook thread that started with some newsletter article frustrations leads me to ask my friends this: What is the worst opening phrase or sentence you can imagine for a church newsletter article?

Discuss!

Scared Silent

Mark 9:30-37

Some of the most in depth conversations I can remember from my childhood and adolescence, those conversations with my parents that REALLY mattered, happened in sort of a strange place. At least it seemed strange to me. Now, years later I’ve heard that it’s not uncommon, and in fact one youth ministry expert works to not only encourage, but foster these sorts of heart-to-heart conversations because apparently I am not the only one who had my most pivotal conversations with my mom while sitting in the car.

Yep. The car. Family dinners are important. One on one chats on the couch can be wonderful, but apparently for me and for many others, the best parts of our relationship were built while talking in the car. I can even remember some talks that ended in the dark garage because we couldn’t interrupt ourselves when we pulled in the driveway and the automatic light had long ago turned off.

In the car we’ve got nothing but time. The radio can provide that slight distraction that keeps us from feeling to vulnerable, the side by side seating gives a feeling of equality and takes a little bit of the edge off staring face to face. In the car we’ve got nothing but time and the endlessness of the road before us to keep the conversation flowing.


Jesus couldn’t exactly pile his disciples into a 15 passenger van as they left Caesarea Philippi, but he did the ancient world’s next best thing when he knew he had some important stuff to talk about. While they had been in Caesarea Philippi, the farthest north of all his travels, Jesus broke some difficult news to his disciples. He told them for the first time what awaited him as they made their way back to familiar territory – great suffering and rejection, pain and death. Understandably, his news about the treatment of the Messiah had been met with disbelief and complete denial.

Knowing they needed a chance to talk through this again, knowing the disciples seemed to be missing the point and the trajectory of his ministry, Jesus cleared plenty of time in the busy schedule, and with the disciples began the long return trip to Galilee, to Capernaum, about 40 miles away. They seemed to be able to dodge the crowds this time, so Jesus and his disciples had nothing but time.

It was the perfect opportunity to continue the difficult discussion he had tried once before. They could hash it out, discuss it, sit in the dark garage with their lives held open to teach other and find out what indeed it meant for the Son of Man to suffer, die, and rise again. But even with the stage set perfectly for a long heart-to-heart, it didn’t happen.

Jesus laid it all out there for a second time, and the words just dropped to the dusty road like a lead balloon. Silence. Not a peep from his disciples. Nothing. Actually, it’s worse than nothing as we watch this PAINFUL exchange because the disciples KNEW they didn’t get it, and they STILL didn’t speak up and get engaged in the conversation. They let Jesus’ words and their questions just fall from the air, because they were too afraid to ask them. Too afraid to ask, they shut themselves off from the reality that has been laid before them, answering Jesus’ shocking words with silence on the long walk to Capernaum.

Why do they do that? Why do we do that when we don’t understand? Why do we default to fear and silence instead of questions and dialogue? Are we scared that he will get mad? Jesus has shown frustration, maybe even anger before, like when Peter rebuked him in Caesarea Philippi. Jesus answered, “Get behind me, Satan,” and that isn’t exactly something anyone wants to hear twice? Do we fear that we will find out we’re wrong? Are we nervous that what we always thought was true really isn’t our expectations are being challenged? What is it that we fear? The news itself or the way we will have to change our living because of it?

Defeated and disappointed in the disciples’ lack of engagement, maybe even hurt by their apparent lack of concern, Jesus’ pace quickened a bit. He had just told them yet again the fate that was awaiting him in the coming days – a fate that included betrayal and murder – and they just let the words stand unquestioned, unexplained, unbelievable. Not only that, but as soon as they think he’s out of earshot, they began arguing about what seemed to REALLY matter to them, who among them was the greatest.

The nature of their argument exposed the depth of their cluelessness. Who is the greatest? Jesus just told them that the Son of Man, the Messiah sent from God, was going to be humiliated and killed, and his disciples are worried about who among them is the greatest. Jesus just told them that he is going to end up at the bottom of the barrel, and his disciples are worried about who is going to rise to the top of the heap. Who is the greatest? This is what they are worried about?

Who is the greatest? The one who stands the tallest? The one who walks the closest? The one who sits at his right hand? Who is the greatest? The one who shouts the loudest? The one who threatens the strongest? The one who steals the microphone to make his voice heard? Who is the greatest? The one who earns the most? The one whose sacrifices are public? The one whose bank accounts are the fullest? Who is the greatest? Who is the greatest we argue and scuffle with our words and our actions, with our scared and silent competitions? Who is the greatest we want to know as our Messiah, our Lord, listens disappointed by our focus? Who is the greatest?

It was a slap in Jesus’ face. From his point of view it’s like telling someone you have a terminal disease and having them change the subject to talk instead about how good they feel because of the nap just took. There’s a complete lack of compassion, not to mention utter selfishness and a total lack of understanding about the nature of Jesus’ ministry.

When the group finally reached Capernaum 30-40 miles from where they started, Jesus, who walked the rest of that painful trip alone far enough ahead that the disciples thought he couldn’t hear them, far enough ahead that they couldn’t see his disappointment in them, asked them what they argued about on the road the rest of the way. Embarrassed to answer, they fell silent yet again.

The disciples again were too scared to answer or ask the questions that really mattered. They knew in an instant they were missing the point. They knew as soon as he asked them. They knew in an instant NOTHING Jesus was about, none of the healing, none of the preaching, none of the casting out of demons nor calming of seas nor feeding the masses, was about making him the greatest of all. Because really, when has reaching out to any of these brought anyone fame or fortune. They knew in an instant their desire to be the greatest was all wrong, but even then they still remained silent.

Graciously Jesus steps in. With love and hope that they soon would “get it,” and mercy if they never would, he saves them from their embarrassing misunderstanding. He doesn’t chastise them for their fear; he doesn’t even acknowledge the complete MISS exposed by their argument. Instead, with a new way of teaching he shows them what he means instead of telling them what will happen.

This life he has called them to be a part of, this life of following the Messiah, the one sent by God to redeem the world, it’s not about being the greatest. It’s not about rising to the top. It’s not about being honored by our peers. It’s not about accumulating wealth or power or success in the eyes of the world. It’s not about being the most well-known, being the most attractive, being the first among all others, not for the disciples, not for us, not even for our church.

This life he has call them to be a part of, this life we have committed to being a part of, this life of following Jesus, it’s about two things – service and welcome. That’s how we succeed, if you can call it that. Sitting down among his confused and misfocused disciples, Jesus tells them what it means to be first in his kingdom. It means being last. It means setting aside ego and pride. It means honoring others before honoring ourselves. It means stepping down out of the seats of privilege we hold and not just moving to the back of the line, but serving, waiting on the ones who now stand in front of us. It’s not just about choosing to live simply because we have the luxury to do that; it’s about serving those who have no other choice.

To further show them what he means, Jesus brings a child to sit among them, no not just sit among them, to be held by him. We love this image, don’t we? We love to hang it in our Sunday School rooms and paint in on our nursery walls. We imagine a pastoral scene with a soft lens, soft light. But as is often the case with some of our favorite pictures, it would have dropped more jaws than sentimental tears in the time of Jesus. Childhood then was definitely not childhood now. Children were not considered a “precious gift” the way they are now. They were a blessing not in the joy they brought, but in the work they could do, the wealth they represented, the income they could bring or protect.

Under Roman law, a child was not even guaranteed the right to live at his or he birth. The pater familias, the father of the family or head of the household, could choose after the birth to accept the child’s life in the family or choose to have it put to death. Children were not really full humans in the dominant thought of the day. What Jesus is showing the disciples by bringing the young one among them is about more than welcoming innocence. It’s about welcoming those we consider below us, less than us, sub-human even.

Holding a child in his arms showed the disciples that his life was not about jockeying for position. Jesus’ ministry was not about climbing to the top to be declared the greatest. His ministry, the ministry of his true disciples, is not about seeking honor and ensuring a glory-filled reputation. It’s about serving the dishonored and glorifying the unwelcome. His ministry, the ministry of his true disciples, is not about insulating ourselves from the reality of pain and death, even the humiliating death on a cross. It’s about subjecting ourselves to that kind of ridicule from the world by serving those others would expect to serve us, welcoming the ones who are welcome no other place and welcoming them right into the very middle of our circle, right into our arms.

That’s the way to follow Jesus. That’s the way we understand what his life, what his death, what his resurrection is all about. We understand by serving the way he served, with his whole life shared with the whole world. We understand by welcoming the way he welcomed, with arms stretched open for the overlooked, the ignored, the unvalued.

Our fears and our silence may keep us from asking all the right questions, and you know, maybe our rational minds wouldn’t let us understand even if we gave them voice. So Jesus showed us what his way is all about. He showed us by teaching us with his example, by serving us with his grace. He showed us by welcoming and holding a child in his arms. He showed us by going all the way to the cross, not to be the greatest of all, but to be the servant of all, and to call us to this kind of life with him. May we find the courage to follow.

Cross Culture

Mark 8:27-38

Location! Location! Location! It’s not just the key to real estate; it’s often the key to the gospel of Mark. “Jesus went on with his disciples to the villages of Caesarea Philippi.” If Mark bothered to tell us where they were going, it must have something to do with what they did or said on the way there.

The gospels mention two different areas known by this name, one on the western coast of Judea, on the Mediterranean Sea, and this one, which is inland. It is northeast of Galilee, which is north of Jerusalem, so it’s quite a ways away from the Temple and the center of the Jewish faith. In fact, it’s getting to be about as far away from the center of the Jewish population as a Jewish person would probably want to get in Roman occupied Palestine. It’s also the farthest north Jesus ever goes during his ministry.

The region was important religiously to the Syrians, the Greeks, and the Romans. Temples and idols of Syrian gods dotted the landscape. The Greeks believed it to be the birthplace of Pan, and named the area Panias. The Romans gave it its biblical name, Caesarea Philippi. Having been given the region by Caesar Augustus 20 years before the birth of Christ, Herod the Great built a great temple of white marble to honor the godhead of Caesar. The city itself was built later by his son Herod Philip. Hence the name, Caesarea Philippi.

Needless to say, Jesus and his disciples were crossing some very important boundaries as they made their way on the road to Caesarea Philippit. They were moving toward a place where worship of Caesar and worship of Pan was far more common and acceptable than worship of God, whom they knew as Yahweh, God whom they declared was the ONLY God. Walking on road in an area littered with the temples of the Syrian gods, a place where the Greek gods looked down, a place where the white marble splendor of the home of Caesar-worship dominated the landscape, they were crossing the boundary into a culture that was foreign, possibly hostile, and definitely not receptive to their beliefs.

Their trip was taking them into a multi-cultural pressure cooker. There was likely anxiety about where they were going and how different they would be. They would soon be in the minority, always a stressful place to be. They would soon need to figure out who they were going to act, talk, believe, and behave in the middle of a completely different culture. So on the way, Jesus begins to prepare them for what they will experience with a couple of questions. It always helps to discern your way through the future with a reminder of your beliefs that define you.

“Who do the people say that I am?” Jesus asked his followers. The reports sounds like a biblical all-star line-up to us – John the Baptist, the prophet Elijah, others of the prophets Israel honors. They were all strong men. Remembered men. Men who made a difference, but also, lest we forget, they were men who were known for disrupting the culture. Visionary men with visions that challenged the establishment, criticizing the status quo, as visions often do. They were men who were not necessarily honored by the culture where they ministered, and in fact, John the Baptist was so DIShonored his head showed up on a silver platter. A biblical all-star list, yes, but at the same time not a list you necessarily hope to be on for safety’s sake.

This is probably not a problem we’d have so much. People don’t really see Jesus as THAT controversial of a person anymore. Maybe we’ve gotten to the opposite end of the spectrum even. If people are even thinking of Jesus, they don’t see him as much of ANYTHING – a good teacher, maybe, a wise sage, a spiritual man at best. But a political danger, a world disrupter, a threat to ANYTHING? Probably not. And whether it’s the chicken or the egg, more and more people don’t see his followers as having much impact or relevancy either.

The culture that surrounds us, Jesus’ followers, those on the road with him, is dismissive at best, hostile at worst to the message we hope to proclaim. Do unto others has turned into do what’s best for me. The rugged self-sufficient individual is worshiped more than the selfless servant of others. Our public opinion poll about Jesus may turn up very different responses today than it did years ago, but as we are walking around in a culture as foreign to our faith as the disciples in Caesarea Philippi, the follow-up question would have to be the same.

If this what the world think of Jesus, if they even THINK of Jesus, a teacher, a guru, or a speaker of generic universal wisdom, if this is what the competing and dominant culture says about him, then he asks us, “Who do you say that I am?

It’s what he asked the disciples. That’s what the people think of me, but what do YOU think? Who do YOU say that I am? As they are making their way into a foreign land. As they are moving deeper and deeper into a very different culture. As they are becoming even more of a minority than they have already been. As they are making plans for their ministry when they get to this new location, the important question for Jesus comes, “Who do you say that I am?”
It’s the question we have to ask ourselves periodically, too. It’s a question we have to ask as we find ourselves living and working in a culture that is competing with our faith. It’s a question we have to ask when we face challenges in our lives.
“Who is Jesus?” when I’m out of work and running out of money?
“Who is Jesus?” when relationships are disintegrating?
“Who is Jesus?” when I don’t know how to be the person I’m becoming?
It’s the question we have to ask when we face challenges in our society.
“Who is Jesus?” when we can’t speak to each other respectfully?
“Who is Jesus?” when wars take the lives of the world’s sons and daughters?
“Who is Jesus?” when some live with luxurious abundance and others live in poverty?
It’s a question we have to ask when we stand at the threshold of a new day as a church.
“Who is Jesus?” when we are blessedly surrounded by children?
“Who is Jesus?” when we’re wondering how to serve our community?
“Who is Jesus?” when we are discerning our mission and calling in the world?
Who is Jesus? Who do we say that he is?

Always the first to raise his hand, Peter spoke up with the perfect answer, straight from the textbook, “You are the Messiah,” but knowingly Jesus told him to keep what he declared quiet. The words from Peter’s lips sounded just right, but Jesus knew he’d have to teach the meditations of their hearts about what his sort of Messiah would be. Peter and the others were expecting a conquerer who will free Israel from its captors, a king who will rule from David’s throne, a priest who will bless the people as he ushers in a peaceful and PROSPEROUS era. So, Jesus’ idea about great suffering and rejection, killing and rising again, that wasn’t what Peter was talking about. So, Peter rebukes Jesus for getting it all wrong, and Jesus rebukes him right back.

This question, “Who do you say that I am?” and its answers, matter. This question, “Who do say that I am?” and our responses make a difference. If we expect to be the followers of the Messiah, a king who is touched by no sadness nor suffering, we’re going to be rudely awakened when see him in pain. If we expect to be the followers of the Messiah, a wise teacher widely respected, we’re going to be shocked when we see him rejected and ignored. If we expect to be the followers of the Messiah, a heralded, lauded, and honored leader, we’re going to be crushed when we witness his death on a humiliating cross.

Followers of the kind of Messiah the disciples expect, followers of the kind of Messiah we sometimes secretly wish for, don’t have to worry about losing jobs, because they are always the boss. Followers of the kind of the kind of Messiah the disciples expect don’t have to be worried about being spit at or mocked, because they when they walk by people stop to watch with respect, when they stand up to speak people stop to listen. Followers of that kind of Messiah don’t have to wait in line, or share what they have, or worry that there won’t be enough or it won’t be good enough, because they are always first and people always bring the best to them. Followers of that kind of Messiah never have to worry that a street or a plane or a trip to the city will be unsafe, because the strength and the might and the reputation of their Messiah will protect them.

If, however, we hear and believe in the kind of Messiah Jesus says he is, if we see the kind of Messiah Jesus has shown us he is, then the way we follow him will be completely different. We won’t expect to be treated like we’re on the side of the good guy. We won’t anticipate the seat of honor in every public forum. We won’t count on the world catering to our every desire. We won’t put our needs, our desires, our cravings before those of others. We won’t be exempt from helping our neighbor or the stranger on the street before we help ourselves. We won’t expect the world to understand our call to show love and mercy without boundaries, justice without retribution.

Because the Messiah that Jesus is in the world, is not the kind of Messiah the world expects. And therefore the followers of Jesus, those who walk on the road with him into a culture that stands against him, are called to followed him in these unexpected ways. We are called to leave our lives behind to live cross-culturally, in a way completely different from the culture around us. We are called to live in the culture of the cross, in a culture of sacrifice and sometimes even suffering, in a culture of selflessness and compassion for others, in a culture of gospel mercy. We are called to bring a culture of love, a culture of forgiveness, a culture of compassion, a culture of mercy, the culture of the cross to the relationships we are in, the community where we live, and the world we serve.

The way we live as Jesus’ followers should show exactly what we believe about who he is, because knowing who we are following gives us the map for the way forward on the road in a different culture. Knowing who we are following gives us the rules for the cross culture. We are called to pick up things, ideals, beliefs and priorities that feel cumbersome, awkward to carry, maybe just maybe even humiliating before the world. We will need use our time in ways that honors God. We will need to treat those who hurt us in a way that brings dignity to our relationship. We will need to budget and spend our money in a way that pleases the Messiah.

As a church we will need to set priorities for our future and organize our mission in a way that may feel heavy and uncertain at first. We could be called to give up the programs we’ve held onto, give up our pre-conceived ideas, our cravings, our comforts, the things we hold onto too tightly in order to take up a new and life-giving vision. We will need to look at what we are being called to be and do NOW, not just what we’ve always done in the past.

Who do you say that he is? Ask yourself. Ask each other, because the answer matters. The answer tells us who and how we will follow. Is he a teacher, a prophet, a peacemaker, the Messiah? Who do we say that he is and how will the world know our answer?

Keep These Words

The Israelites were getting ready to pass through the waters, and Moses had been given some last few, but very important, words to deliver. They were about to pass through the waters of the Jordan and enter into the Promised Land, but God wasn’t quite ready to let them go yet. There were a few more things they needed to hear as they got ready to live their life, redeemed and freed from slavery.

These words from Deuteronomy 6 have become some of the most important words in the Jewish faith. It wouldn’t be overstating the case to say they are the most beloved words of Scripture. Observant Jews recite these words in prayer twice a day, they are the center of their prayer services, and it is traditional for them to be spoken as a person’s last words. The passage, beginning with verse 4 is known as the “Shema” for the first Hebrew word in the passage – “Hear!” or maybe better yet, “Listen up!” The command lets us know something important is coming. The command alerted the Israelites to the center of what they needed to know as they made their way through the water.

It’s a good command for us, too, for we who have come through these baptismal waters, for we who have promised even today to care for those born, through their baptisms, into our family of faith. “Listen up!” God’s going to tell us how we should live in this family formed by the water and the Spirit.

Deuteronomy 6:1-9


At the playground recently I saw a dad waiting with his son for some space to clear up on a climbing toy. The only dad in that area, while helping his son wait patiently, he also helped some other children make their way safely to the top. Even after his little boy had reached the high platform he kept helping the others, spotting them so a potential fall wouldn’t be so dangerous, giving a hand to steady them if they got a little wobbly. Another dad came jogging up when he saw his daughter getting some assistance. He thanked the first dad, apologizing for not being there; he was chasing his other children, too. The first dad, smiled and shrugged, “Hey, we’re all in this together!”

We sure are. We’re all in this together! God’s commandment through Moses in Deuteronomy 6 doesn’t come in a little “For parents only” section of scripture. It’s not set aside for just those who are raising children in their homes. It’s not that elusive instruction manual all parents sometimes wish came with their children. It’s not just for those with the immediate responsibility of day to day care for little ones. Hear O Israel! Israel! It’s for the whole community, the whole people of God. It’s for ALL of us!

Hear, O Israel! Moses calls to all of God’s people, the whole nation, the entire community and because of this you know something very important is coming up - - Hear me! Listen to me! Listen up now! The Lord is our only God and the Lord has some important things for us to do. We are supposed to love God with all that we are and all that we have, and we show that love by following God’s command. We’re commanded to know this all by heart. We’re supposed to love God and love what we know about God. We’re supposed to keep all of this treasured inside, NOT to horde it away from others, but so that we can live it before others - - especially so that we can live it in front of our children.

This is the call and command to the community of faith. It is the community’s responsibility to teach our children about God and God’s love for us all. It is the community’s responsibility to recite these words by heart, to talk about them, to talk about God, to tell our children the stories and the promises of God’s love for them and for the world.

Sometimes it sounds daunting, I know, because we don’t know when and we don’t know how. Many of us think to ourselves, or even out loud to one another, “But I don’t know enough. Someone else speaks to the children better than I do. I’ll mess the story up, so maybe if I learn it a little better, then I’ll be able to teach it. I don’t really see a lot of children, so I don’t get the chance to teach them.”

But really, it’s not that hard! Moses tells us how we should do this - - by heart! I don’t mean memorization here, but truly by heart. We are supposed to love these kids, this children made all of ours by the waters of baptism, we’re supposed to love them so much that they know God’s love. We are supposed to love God so much you can see it coming from our hearts, hear it coming from our lips, feel it coming out of our very souls.

And when should we do all of this? Oh it’s not too hard, Moses tells us - - only when we’re home or when we’re away. Only when we’re sleeping and when we’re waking. That’s all! In other words, there isn’t a designated time. It isn’t just in Sunday School or worship. It’s not just at Networks youth ministry or Children’s Time. This is our call, this is God’s commandment to us ALL THE TIME. Loving God and teaching God’s children is our fulltime job, and we do it with the lives we live before them. We do it by holding close to God’s Word, by keeping these words in our heart and in our lives.

We do it by heart, when we choose the Way of Jesus in our thoughts, in our words, and in our actions, in the church, in our homes, in the schools, and in our communities. We do it by heart when we remember we are the family of Christ, born through the waters of baptism, sealed by the Holy Spirit, marked as Christ’s own forever, and we ACT like a loving family. We do it by heart, we hear God’s commandment and we teach it to our children, when we choose the way of love and forgiveness and justice, over fear and revenge and retribution in all that we do, wherever we are.

We keep God’s commandment to love the Lord and teach love to our children, we do it by heart, when we come to this table, the table of our Lord, Jesus our Christ. We do it when we proclaim with our lips in prayer and our hearts in humility and our faith in the action of eating this bread and drinking from this cup, that by these humble, common elements we are fed by his body and his spirit, so that we will be enlivened for his ministry. We do it by heart when we come together as the community of Christ, the family of God, not just with those who share the Lord’s Supper in this room on this day, but with all people in all times and in all places who share his body and blood through this sacrament.

We keep these words in our heart, we recite them before our children and the world, when we join together around this table, obeying the words of Jesus, “Do this in remembrance of me,” taking his very life, his very spiritual presence into our bodies to nourish our lives and our faith.

Keep these words, and share them by heart. Love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your strength. In all that you do, and all that you are, whether you are here or there, close by or far away, working or resting, going or coming, in the church or in the world, share this love with all the generations.