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.
