Keeping Focus
Mark 8:31-38
March 1, 2015[1]
Destiny. Jesus announces His destiny in today’s Gospel
Lesson.
First, let’s
consider the context. Throughout the
first part of the Gospel of Mark, Jesus’ identity as Messiah is a secret. Only the demons that he casts out of people
seem to know who Jesus is. All that
changes in Mark 8, when Jesus asks Peter, “who do you say that I am?” Peter answers him, “You are the
Messiah.” (Mark 8:29). Matthew reports
that Jesus responded to Peter by giving Him the spiritual equivalent of a “High
Five:” “Blessed are you, Simon son of
Jonah! For flesh and blood has not
revealed this to you, but my Father in heaven.”
(Matthew 16:17). In Mark, we don’t find those words of
affirmation. Instead, we simply see that
Jesus “sternly ordered” Peter and the disciples “not to tell anyone about him.” (Mark
8:30).
This is where
today’s Lesson picks up. Jesus goes on to explain to the disciples exactly what
it means for Him to be the Messiah. He
describes the mission to which he has been called: that “the Son of Man must undergo
great suffering, and be rejected by the elders, the chief priests, and the
scribes, and be killed, and after three days rise again.” (Mark
8:31).
Do you hear
that little word “must” in verse 31:
“the Son of Man must undergo great suffering…”? The Greek word
that is translated as “must” is the word dei. There are different ways that Biblical Greek
conveys the idea that something had to be done.
There is what they call the “imperative case,” using a verb in the way that
we might when we include the word “shall” or “will”—as in telling a child that
they shall do their homework. They have to
do it. There also is a word, anagke, that means “duty.” But there also is this word dei that is much stronger than
duty. It sometimes is translated “it is
necessary that”, but even those words beg a question. What makes it necessary? Why did Jesus have to die?
Theologians
have been arguing this question for thousands of years. We have this
theological word, “atonement,” that has stirred up more controversy than you
can imagine, about why it was necessary for Jesus to die for our
salvation. We won’t settle those
arguments today; but we don’t have to go that far. It is at least clear that when Jesus uses the
word dei, He means that in order for
Him to restore the brokenness of this world, in order to save people from the
wickedness of this world, it is inevitable that evil will strike
back. Jesus knew that to break the power
of the evil one over humankind, it was necessary for God the Son to look
evil right in the eye and say “no more.”
It is not only risky business; it is costly to confront evil. But that is why Jesus came. It was more than a duty; it was His mission
as the Son of God. It was His destiny, a
destiny that He had to fulfill whether He liked it or not. His destiny was not ordained by the stars or
fate. It was His calling from God the
Father.
It’s at this
point that Peter takes Jesus aside and begins to rebuke Him. Mark doesn’t tell us what Peter said to
Jesus; but Matthew’s Gospel quotes Peter this way: “God forbid it, Lord! This must never happen to you.” (Matthew
16:22).
If Mark’s
understanding of Peter’s rebuke is the same as Matthew’s, it doesn’t seem that
bad to me. It seems to be an expression
of concern and devotion for the Master.
What is so wrong with that?
By his words,
Peter shows that he does not understand yet who Jesus is. He had just finished proclaiming Jesus as
Messiah, but doesn’t even know what sort of Messiah Jesus is. Keep in mind the meaning of the word
“Messiah” or, as some translations put it, the “Christ.” Those words mean “the anointed One of God.” Anointing was something that you did to
commission someone on a mission. Peter
does not understand the Mission that Jesus is on. And because Peter does not understand the
Mission, his well-intentioned words serve to tempt Jesus to depart from his
Mission. We have read recently about
someone else who tempted Jesus to stray from His Mission—none other than Satan
himself.
Jesus’ rebuke
of Peter sounds harsh. “Get behind me,
Satan.” (Mark 8:33). The Gospel suggests that Jesus rebuked Peter
publicly, making him an example in front of the other disciples—Mark says
“turning and looking at his disciples, he rebuked Peter …”.
Jesus goes on
in his rebuke to Peter, “You are setting your mind not on divine things but on
human things.” (Mark 8:33).
Jesus rebuke to
Peter is not quite the same as accusing Peter as having become
demon-possessed. I think Jesus is
telling Peter that by his words and actions, Peter is trying to tempt Jesus
away from His God-given Mission, just as Satan did. Jesus will not let anyone, even one of His
closest friends and confidants, cause Jesus to lose focus on His mission.
But when Jesus rebukes
Peter, He is not rejecting Peter any more than we reject our children when we
correct them. When we discipline our
children, we do so because we want them to follow the right path in
living. I don’t think that Jesus’ words,
“get behind me” were spoken accidentally.
They were spoken lovingly.
The customary
expression used for discipleship is “to follow.” A disciple follows the master. Jesus’ direction to Peter to “get behind me”
wasn’t a command to “leave me alone” or even “get out of my way.” “Get behind me” was a statement to “follow
me,” coupled with a reminder—to Peter and to all of us—of what it would mean to
follow Him.
We then hear
Jesus say those memorable words of discipleship. “If any want to become my followers,
let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me.” (v. 34). This is the first time that a cross enters
the picture. Even when Jesus had told
the disciples that He would be killed, He hadn’t mentioned a cross. But He has now, and it is a sobering thought
indeed. In Jesus’ day, crosses lined the
roads of Judea, a silent reminder to would-be revolutionaries who might be
tempted to take up arms against Roman rule.
Jesus says,
“take up a cross;” not “take up a sword.”
Jesus’ understanding of His mission is different than any revolution
they had ever seen. It was a revolution
of loving. Call it a kinder revolution,
if you will, but it also was a revolution that was every bit as threatening to
the powers and principalities of Roman rule.
It was a revolution that still required His followers to give up their
own agendas—to “deny themselves” (v. 34) and follow Him.
Jesus’
invitation echoes through the centuries and still is alive today. If any want to become my followers, let them
deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me.” And this is where it gets tough for me. We often use these words, “take up your
cross,” but we seldom really focus
on what it means in our lives. And I
have to challenge myself: how much
“cross-bearing” I really want to do.
We hear the
news reports about so many in our world who have taken these words literally
and have paid for it with their lives.
Twenty-one Coptic Christians in Libya.
A twenty-six year old American woman named Kayla Mueller who had been kidnapped by ISIS while
staying with “Doctors without Borders” in Syria. Kayla had written to her parents before her
death and said, “I have
come to a place in experience where, in every sense of the word, I have
surrendered myself to our creator b/c literally there was no else.... + by God
+ by your prayers I have felt tenderly cradled in freefall.”[2] Am I ready for that level of discipleship?
I expressed
those concerns on Wednesday morning to my clergy friends at breakfast. Some nodded in agreement. One of them, however, noted that not all of
us are called to the same sort of martyrdom.
He went on to point out that all pastors, whenever they enter the pulpit
to preach the Gospel, are risking martyrdom of a sorts—whether physical or
otherwise. When we preach the Gospel, even
right here in Fluvanna County, we are proclaiming to a world gone mad that
there is something wrong, terribly wrong, with our culture and our world.
Was my friend overstating the
point? Do we risk martyrdom every time
we proclaim the Gospel? Yes and no. First, I would not want to say anything that
tends to minimize or trivialize the amazing sacrifice made by Kayla, or the 21
Coptic Christians or any of the martyrs.
In their lives, they embodied the words of Jesus that we read
today: “those who lose their life for my
sake, and for the sake of the gospel, will save it.” (Mark
8:35). Yet, not everyone is called
to the same circumstances.
But that doesn’t mean that
God doesn’t have a job for me. A job for
me right here in Fluvanna, where most everything seems safe enough, is to be right
here where people still hurt. People
still face moral issues. People still
struggle with evil—both in the world around us and in the world within us.
In 1936, when Americans were
still struggling to break free from the grasp of the Great Depression, and when
the specter of a second World War was on the horizon but had not yet fully
developed, President Franklin D. Roosevelt told the Democratic National
Convention that “This
generation of Americans has a rendezvous with destiny.”[3] Jesus is making that same point, but making
it even stronger and for an even more sacred purpose. He came with a divine mission—to redeem a
broken world and the broken people within it.
He calls us to follow Him in that mission. We wish that this mission wasn’t so
costly. We, like Peter, look at Jesus
and say, “not that.” “Forbid it
Lord.” But Jesus says to us, as He said
to His disciples, “Keep focus!” “If any want to become my followers, let them deny
themselves and take up their cross and follow me. 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.” The circumstances may be
different; but a “death to self” is necessary.
As 20th Century theologian and martyr Dietrich Bonhoeffer
said, “When Christ calls a man, he bids him come and die. It may be a death like that of the first
disciples who had to leave home and work to follow him, or it may be a death
like Luther’s, who had to leave the monastery and go out into the world. But it is the same death every time—death in
Jesus Christ… only the man who is dead to his own will can follow Christ.”[4] It is our dei. A destiny that is intertwined with, that is
wrapped up in the destiny of the One we follow.
These are heavy
words for a cold Sunday morning. It is
important to remember a couple of things.
First, when we take on this destiny, this dei, we take on the task of joining in God’s work of redeeming the
world, of hastening the day when the words, “Thy kingdom come, Thy will be
done,” will become a reality, the day when our faith will be made sight.
Second, when we
take on this destiny, this dei, we
find to our surprise that we have not lost our lives; we find them. We discover the real truth meant by those
words, “I once was lost; but now I am found.”
Third, we don’t
take on this dei, by ourselves. We are in good company, for the One we follow
is the same One who said, “my yoke is easy and my burden is light” (Matthew 11:30), and who promised, “I am
with you always, even to the end of the age.”
(Matthew 28:20).
What is your destiny? You have been given an invitation: to take up your cross and follow Jesus. May you accept this invitation today!
Amen.
[1]
Preached at Cunningham United Methodist Church in Palmyra, Virginia on the
Second Sunday of Lent.
[2]
Kayla Mueller, undated letter to her parents, viewed on the internet on
February 28, 2015 at http://i.huffpost.com/gen/2598440/thumbs/o-KAYLA-570.jpg?7.
[3]
Speech before the
Democratic National Convention in Philadelphia, Pa., June 27, 1936. Viewed on the internet on February 28, 2015
at http://www.austincc.edu/lpatrick/his2341/fdr36acceptancespeech.htm.
[4]
Dietrich Bonhoeffer, The Cost of
Discipleship, rev. ed. (New York: Macmillan Publishing Company, 1959), 99.
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