TAKE UP YOUR CROSS & FOLLOW

A SERMON FOR THE 2ND SUNDAY IN LENT, YEAR B

BY LAURA GENTRY

MARK 8:31-38

Peter was an awesome disciple. That’s why he was called the Rock—and no, he was not a pro-wrestler. Jesus called him that because of his rock-solid faith. 

Like the other disciples, Peter had left his old life behind to follow Jesus and now, after working alongside this amazing teacher, he had a revelation. 

“Why do you say that I am?” Jesus asks him. 

“You are the Messiah,” he says.

Obviously, Peter was a faith rock-star. Pun intended. But maybe not. There was something Peter wasn’t getting. He thought back to words of the prophets who foretold the coming of the Messiah who would deliver them. In this line of thinking, the Messiah would be like the great King Solomon. Only better. He would come in power and flex his political muscle and send those foreign occupiers packing.

Yes, it will be fabulous, Peter was probably thinking. And when Jesus usurps Rome and is put on the throne, well, I’ll probably get to be Chief of Staff or some other high office. I am his right-hand man, after all. I’m his Rock. I ought to be wealthy and powerful when all this goes down. God rewards faithfulness, right?

There are a lot of preachers out there who say: Yes! Yes, of course! If you are a Christian—if you love Jesus—then you will be healthy, wealthy and beautiful. You’ll always smell nice. Divine providence will rain riches upon you and your family. 

This theology is popular these days. It’s known as “Prosperity Gospel” and it sounds great, doesn’t it? Who doesn’t want an easy life with, you know, lots of toys? And it makes sense: if God is God of all and God loves us, then we should have everything we want.

This kind of thinking was also popular 500 years ago and Martin Luther found it extremely disturbing. He called it a “theology of glory.” It declared that God works through things and people that are powerful. If things are going well for you it must be a sign that God is with you. So if you’re suffering or weak or poor—well, you must be doing something wrong. But then along comes Jesus and he’s all of that: he’s so weak and powerless that he’s put through the incomprehensible suffering and the shame of death on a cross. So, Luther concluded, this must mean that contrary to popular thought, God works through weakness. God isn’t punishing the suffering for some alleged wrong-woing. No, in fact God is most profoundly with the suffering. In the midst of our brokenness God is with us and is working to call us back to life. This is what Luther called the “theology of the cross.”

Hmm, maybe Luther got it wrong. Weakness, shame and death. Doesn’t sound all that fun. That’s certainly where Peter was coming from. In today’s Gospel text from Mark, Jesus tells his disciples quite openly that he must undergo great suffering, and be rejected by the elites of the faith: the elders, the chief priests, and the scribes, and be killed, and after three days rise again. 

That’s stupid! At least according to Peter, so he speaks up and tells Jesus not to talk like that. The text says he rebukes him. It could be translated: “Shut up!” Peter’s that vehement in his opposition to Jesus’ plan of suffering and death. Shut up, Jesus! Don’t do it. You’re supposed to be the triumphant king, not die like a shameful criminal. I won’t stand for it.

Then Jesus lashes back at him with even more force. “Get behind me, Satan!” he says, “For you are setting your mind not on divine things but on human things.” 

Satan? Yikes! This is forceful language but Jesus doesn’t mean in a name-calling way. He’s addressing Peter as “tempter” because he’s tempting Jesus to turn away from the path of humility, shame and death and go after worldly glory instead. This had to be tempting even for the Son of God. Peter is very devilish in this regard. He’s setting his mind on human things and trying to throw off the entire divine plan. Jesus won’t stand for it.

As if exasperated that his own rock-solid disciple has missed the point, Jesus calls the crowd together to teach them. Maybe they’ll get it this time. They need to hear it (and we do, too). Here’s what he lays on them: “If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me. For those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake, and for the sake of the gospel, will save it. For what will it profit them to gain the whole world and forfeit their life?”

Mark Twain once wrote: “It ain’t those parts of the Bible that I can’t understand that bother me, it’s the parts that I do understand.” This here is one of those passages that bother us because it’s so clear: “If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me.”

Or is it? What exactly does Jesus mean when he asks us—his followers—to deny ourselves, take up our cross and follow him?

It certainly isn’t a get-rich-quick scheme or a magic ticket to the easy life as the prosperity preachers would tell you it is. It is a call to complete devotion. It asks us to give up our selfish pursuits and follow Christ. And I believe that’s what we’re all trying earnestly to do. But how!? How do we do it today in our hurting world?

Well, we could look at how Jesus did it. His first century world was different from ours but it was hurting, too. People were oppressed, crushed and crying out for deliverance. God could have looked at all that suffering and decided to keep it at arms-length. You know, it’s too awful. But instead, God decided to enter the world and walk with—suffer with—those broken people all the way to the cross, even though Peter begged him not to.  Isn’t that incredible? I can never quite wrap my head around it.

We all suffer. The older we get, the longer our list of suffering—loved ones die, spouses leave, health declines, disappointments and failures accumulate. We hate to think about how vulnerable we are but indeed, suffering is a pretty constant companion on the road of life.

Take up your cross and follow Jesus. Maybe that means first admitting we suffer. Like Christ, we have our crosses to bear. At times we are broken in two by them. 

A friend of mine, whose child died, recently posted this quote by Leonard Cohen: “I greet you from the other side of sorrow and despair with a love so vast and shattered it will reach you everywhere.” I was touched by it because it reminded me that when we are broken, there is the opportunity for our shattered hearts to expand with love. We’ve suffered, so now we can empathize with other people who suffer. Despite the pain—actually because of the pain—our compassion can grow. 

This is what Jesus did. He suffered and in doing so, he suffers with each one of us. He proves to us that God gets it. God is there in not just in our happy moments but in our weakness and hurt. And we are called to do the same. 

Take up your cross and follow Jesus. Maybe that means entering into the suffering of others rather than pushing it away. We can make space in our hearts and our schedules for those who are suffering. We can listen to and believe the victims of abuse, we can allow grievers to grieve as long as they need to, we can look at discrimination and understand how the system is rigged against some people rather than blaming them for their situation, we can get outraged when we discover injustice, and this can stir us to action to advocate on behalf of our brothers and sisters in pain.

When Jesus was telling his disciples about what he must undergo, he got to the part about being killed but did you notice, he didn’t stop there? He went on to say that after three days he would rise again. I wonder if Peter even listened to that part. Maybe if he had, he wouldn’t have objected. Jesus suffered and died, yes, but that wasn’t the end of the story. God raised him to new life and in doing so, promises us the same. The cross, you see, leads into suffering and death but ultimately it leads to resurrection.

Take up your cross and follow Jesus. Maybe that means setting our sights on the risen life. The world might offer comfort and power but Christ offers risen life both now and in the world to come. But you have to deny yourself, take up your cross and follow him. You have to suffer yourself and with others. You have to serve instead of seeking priviledge. You have to love instead of hate. And this may seem like it’s such hard work that you’re giving up your whole life but surprizingly, Jesus says the opposite will happen: “those who lose their life for my sake, and for the sake of the gospel, will save it.” It sounds counterintuitive but the selfless way is the best way. It will save your life.

I’m sorry to break it to you, but I’m not a prosperity preacher. I just stick to the Bible so I’m gonna give it to you straight: following Jesus is hard work. Don’t even bother if you’re not for real.  We are called to follow Christ—to completely, wildly, passionately, and recklessly give over our lives. We are asked to take up our cross and follow Jesus: to give up pursuit of wordly power, to embrace our weakness and suffering, to enter into the suffering of others and let it expand our hearts that we may be and transformed into new people, risen people who love God and are eager to go wherever the Spirit leads. This Lenten journey reminds us that’s what it’s all about. Now get out there and follow Jesus.

OUR TIME IN THE WILDERNESS

A Sermon for The first Sunday in Lent

Mark 1:9-15

February 18, 2018 

Every First Sunday in Lent, we encounter the story of Jesus being tempted in the wilderness. This year, we read it from Mark’s Gospel. Now you may be familiar with Luke’s version of this temptation story, or Matthew’s. These are longer narratives which set up Satan offering Jesus three different temptations and Jesus giving wise, scripture-based answers to each question, thus thwarting the tricky tempter.

Mark’s version is much shorter. It begins with Jesus’ baptism. The Holy Spirit—uncontrollably urgent to get to Jesus—tears the heavens apart and descends upon him. This is a classic image from scripture signifying divine disclosure. Then God says to him “You are my beloved; with you I am well pleased.”

But there’s no time for a baptismal reception or even a moment to bask in the beauty of sacred affirmation. In keeping with the Spirit’s pressing agenda, Jesus is immediately driven into the wilderness to be tempted for 40 days. 

It’s not a leisurely drive. This is no Sunday afternoon in the minivan. The Greek word here is “ekballo.” I don’t normally quote Greek because unless you’re fluent it doesn’t really matter but this is my favorite Greek word. Not only does it sound funny—ekballo—but it carries a tremendous intensity. It literally means “to throw out.” It is the same word used when Jesus casts demons out of people. It implies a reckless sort of flinging. That’s what the Spirit of God does to Jesus right after his baptism. He doesn’t get to relax and enjoy his blessing. He’s kicked out—catapulted right into the depths of the wilderness.

Why would the Spirit do such a thing? The wilderness of the Middle East is the desert—a desolate and dangerous place. But remember that the desert wilderness is the very place God called Moses and led the people of Israel through on their way to the Promised Land. Far from being a bad place, the desert wilderness is a holy place of divine deliverance in the biblical story.

Still, it’s not fun. I don’t even think Jesus would sign up for it. Nevertheless, the Spirit of God has hurled him out here and he must undergo arduous testing. We don’t know the details of this testing but Mark’s does give us two interesting tidbits (they both show that Jesus was not alone): he was with the wild beasts and that the angels waited on him. 

This reference to the wild beasts in the wilderness is curious. It says he was “with” them and that suggests they were not eating him, which is always good when you’re among dangerous beasts. Years earlier, the prophet Isaiah had written God’s words: “Behold, I am about to do a new thing...I will make a way in the wilderness...and wild animals will honor me.” (Isaiah 43:19-20) Mark probably wrote the wild beast part as proof that Jesus is the fulfillment of this ancient prophesy.

Then the angels waited on him. You can almost imagine an angel standing there in the desert with a notepad and pencil saying, “Okay Jesus, do you want fries with that?” Joking aside, this shows that even the Son with whom God is pleased—the one whose birth was heralded by angels—needs help in times of trial.  And God provides what he needs. The angels carry him through this trying wilderness experience. They keep him strong as he wrestles with temptation.

Clearly, the baptism story and the temptation story go together. There would be no surviving the wilderness if Jesus had not first been filled with the Holy Spirit. In fact, it is because of his baptismal blessing that he is driven—ekballowed into the wilderness—where he not only survives but becomes focused, refined by fire and ready for his public ministry.

And that story is connected as well, for you see as soon as Jesus emerges from the wilderness he declares that the reign of God has come near. The time is now! The dawn of a new age, when God’s mighty power will put all that is wrong in the world right. That’s what Jesus has been called to do and his whole ministry, death and resurrection will revolve around this. 

Baptism, testing and calling. These three are knit tightly together in Jesus’ life as they are in our own.

And here we are in the midst of our 40-day journey through the season of Lent with that same life-giving Spirit driving us. Has it thrown you out into the wilderness? Are you overwhelmed by temptations?

I think one of the temptations is to think that God isn’t present or powerful enough. As you know on Ash Wednesday—the start of our Lenten season—there was a school shooting in Florida in which 17 young students lost their lives. So many kids on such a holy day. It reminds us again of what a violent country we have become, how many innocent lives are lost. And though we can all agree this is tragic, we haven’t figured out how to come together to address the issue, to stop all the killing. This leaves us with the sense that we're helpless. We may feel like Jesus—out in the wilderness struggling with evil.

Because of our baptism we know, however, that we are not alone. We are filled with the Holy Spirit. We may be in the the wilderness but we are we are not alone. We may even find angels waiting on us. Don’t think of angels as the  cute winged figurines you find in the Christian book store. The biblical definition of angels is messengers of God. Do you know any of those? Have they helped you along your way? Perhaps you’ve been an angel to someone else.

Just last Sunday, a member of William’s congregation said, “I see a lot of hurt among the high school-age boys around here. They’re really struggling and they need a safe place where they can just talk. I think we need to start a group for them.” And he got to work forming the group. That was several days before the Florida shooting and yet he could see the need and acted on his urge to help. He used to be one of those hurting boys and now as an adult, he’s gone through more than his fair share of suffering. More than most people, this man knows how important it is for people to have a support group.

That’s just one example of how a desert experience can empower someone to find their calling and move forward in their ministry. Maybe it would actually be easy to change the world if just a few more people allowed the Spirit to drive them to find up local solutions like this.

Another way we may discern our calling is to advocate on behalf of people in need. Pushing for sensible gun law, for example—ones that don’t curtail hunting but save lives. This takes moral courage. It’s so much easier to be silent and not rock the boat. The Archbishop Desmond Tutu, who was instrumental in setting up the Truth and Reconcilliation Commission in post-apartheid South Africa says: “If you are neutral in situations of injustice, you have chosen the side of the oppressor. If an elephant has its foot on the tail of a mouse and you say that you are neutral, the mouse will not appreciate your neutality.”

Maybe the church has been too neutral. Too nice. Too afraid to take a stand for fear of offending someone. Our time in the wilderness can help us struggle to figure out what needs to be done, to discern where the brazen Holy Spirit is flinging us and give us the strength to do it. I encourage you to struggle with these questions, especially in this season of Lent, which is a season of repentence. How are we being shaped by our time in the wilderness to turn around and go in a new, more faithful direction? We have been baptized, we are being tested and we must continue to find our calling.

May God bless our journey.  Amen.