How to Know What to Live For
Scripture: Luke 19:28-40; 9:18-27 Rev. Richard H. Thompson, March 28, 2010

How does God love us?

The way anyone who loves us, really loves us - by telling us the truth. By giving it to us straight about what to expect, especially at a turning point, so we can make a good decision about what to do, what to live for.

It's like a pastor friend of mine who walked across the stage at his graduation after his years in seminary. The president handed him his diploma and as they shook hands he said to my friend, "Don't get cocky. This is just an index to your ignorance."

Or like the speaker at the baccalaureate ceremony in front of all those smiling graduates and their families, who said, "The wind is not at your back..."

It's how Jesus loved his followers at a key turning point. They were probably up in Caesarea Philippi, the northern most point in Jesus' ministry, literally preparing to head "south" toward Jerusalem and all that awaited. I wonder if that's where we get the expression, "Things are going south", read "down", as in hard times, resistance, challenges up ahead.

Listen to Luke, Chapter 8 starting at verse 18:

Once when Jesus was praying alone, with only the disciples near him, he asked them, "Who do the crowds say that I am?" They answered, "John the Baptist; but others, Elijah; and still others, that one of the ancient prophets has arisen." He said to them, "But who do you say that I am?" Peter answered, "The Messiah of God." He sternly ordered and commanded them not to tell anyone, saying, "The Son of Man must undergo great suffering, and be rejected by the elders, chief priests, and scribes, and be killed, and on the third day be raised."

You have to wonder what happened in Jesus' prayer time. Did he see how it was all going to go? Did he maybe put it all together, the increasing hostility of the religious leaders, and the inevitable confrontation with the Romans, and how they handled trouble makers?

I suspect he could see how the whole thing was going to go down.

So he could see how he needed to love his friends that day. That he would need to help them see what he could see. This would have been hard because so far it had been a pretty exciting journey - people raised from the dead, people healed, Jesus' prowess with religious leaders was just amazing, that storm at sea calmed with a word, and those huge crowds. It's exciting to back a winner, isn't it? Something to be proud of. To be associated with a star - "Yeah, I've known him for years. We're old friends.. ." (Ooooh).

Everybody loves Jesus... don't they?

Jesus asked a couple of questions to find out.

The first question, "Who do they say that I am?" sounds like Jesus was asking for an opinion poll, sort of like what politicians do. But maybe Jesus asked this to get his friends to do some critical thinking, to reflect a little on what was really going on around them. Because the answers came that some people thought Jesus was John the Baptist back from the grave. Others suspected he was Elijah, others that one of the great prophets had risen. In other words, the crowds thought Jesus was the fore-runner, the one who would come before the Messiah came! This meant the crowds' mood was high and full of expectation. It meant they believed anything was possible. Every hope, every dream could come true.

It also meant they did not get who Jesus was. Say the name "Jesus" and all kinds of ideas come to mind. It meant they did not get what he saw coming either. Neither did those fans at the gate of the city of Jerusalem that first Palm Sunday.

This is the thing about Holy Week. It's an uncomfortable, hard reminder for Christians. All that took place in that final week, beginning with what we remember today as Palm Sunday, is something we'd perhaps rather not have to think about. But God loves us and this world with Holy Week. This is God giving it to us straight. God loving us with the truth.

Jesus' second question was way more personal. "Who do you say that I am?" This is no longer about giving an opinion - opinions are pretty easy to give. They don't require much of anything from us. This second question asked for a decision.

"Who is Jesus?" It's a crucial question. Because we relate to people based on what we decide about them. We do it all the time. Maybe we decide someone is a charlatan, or a prima donna. So we don't trust them any further than the front door. Maybe we decide someone is a good person, someone who really cares. Then we keep the door open. Who we decide a person to be is huge in how much confidence we will place in them.

(The gospels were written to help us answer Jesus' second question.)

He asked this at a turning point. Turning points are always where we have to decide what's real, what's true. It's at turning points that we really need to be loved with the truth. We can walk in circles for a while, maybe even a long while, but finally there comes that "moment of truth". When it's time to decide what you're going to do.

What you're going to live for.

• He asks, "Will you marry me?" Or maybe she does.

• The voice on the other end asks, "Do you want this job?"

• Your spouse asks, "Are you going to have this operation?"

Jesus asked, "Who do you say that I am?" Because he knew what came next would demand that they trust him. Because the Lord knows what comes next always demands that we trust him.

Peter answered for the Twelve, "You are the Messiah of God."

Did he get it right? Sounds right, doesn't it? I mean, these are the right words, aren't they? But the question is what did he mean by them? It's like when someone says, "God", or "Love", or "Spirit", or even, "Jesus". All good words too. But what do we mean by them? We say, "Jesus is my Lord and Savior". Those are the right words too. At least saying them as applied to ourselves is a good beginning.

But apparently Peter just saying the right words wasn't enough. Luke tells us Jesus used strong language here, that he "sternly ordered and commanded them not to tell anyone..." Apparently Jesus knew they didn't get it about what those words, "Messiah of God", meant. That they had all sorts of pictures in their heads about what the Messiah would do.

So Jesus loved them with the truth.

That "The Son of Man [a favorite way Jesus referred to himself] must undergo great suffering and be rejected by the elders, chief priests and scribes, and be killed and on the third day be raised."

I don't think we can't feel it any more the way they must have felt it. It's been two thousand years and we've' grown numb by sheer repetition and over familiarity. The Messiah, the King, the Victor "suffer"? "Rejected"? "Killed"? This didn't make ANY sense at all. "Risen" maybe they could get because nearly everyone believed that at some point they would all rise, but who who knew when? "Three days?" What did that mean? I don't think we can feel their complete confusion. This is not what they wanted to hear, Not what they had pictured.

The waving palms of Palm Sunday, the robes spread out before Jesus' donkey all hint at what people pictured - Jesus the king, coming to fix the country, to restore Jerusalem to independence, and re - establish the rule of king David, the golden boy of Israel. To regain respect on the international stage.

What do we picture? How is our life supposed to go now that Jesus has ridden into your heart, and mine? What are our expectations? What if he has something else in mind? What if he loves us more than what we picture? What if we're like children who know what they absolutely must have to be happy, and God loves us more than that? What if God loves us more than we expect?

In some ways I'd rather not read what Jesus said next. These words are hard on the Church. They have strong potential for disillusionment. They might lead some to decide, "This isn't what I thought this was. This is not what I signed up for." But this is how God loves us.

Here's the truth, Luke chapter 9, continuing with verse 23:

Then he said to them all, "If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross daily and follow me. For those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake will save it. What does it profit them if they gain the whole world, but lose or forfeit themselves? Those who are ashamed of me and of my words, of them the Son of Man will be ashamed when he comes in his glory and the glory of the Father and of the holy angels. But truly I tell you, there are some standing here who will not taste death before they see the kingdom of God."

Let me read from one of my sources,

That Jesus was aware of the "only possible outcome of his mission, given the attitude of the religious leaders of the day. He would also realize that only the Romans had the power of capital punishment and that the form of capital punishment was crucifixion."¹

Ever since that first Holy Week we've struggled and wrestled with the cross. With what it represents. Maybe it's like a target, a cross hairs, what Jesus aimed at, his mission, his purpose - he says, we now make our own purpose. The cross is heavy because he carries our full weight, all we are, and do, and hurt, and rejection, and unspeakable suffering and evil that threatens to undo us so that we give up. But maybe this cross is also like a key, and at the same time a gate, an opening to a way we can only barely begin to imagine.

[Reflection on the replica on the left, and the Celtic cross on the right. One is what happened. The other is what it means.]

Jesus is loving us with the truth, that anyone who wants to be his follower, takes on his mission as their own. It's what he meant by "deny yourself" - that his life's purpose becomes my life's purpose. That he does not serve me. I serve Him. He is the Boss. This is not self - rejection. This is transfer of ownership.

Let's do be clear. Our Lord said, "Take up your cross daily...". This is something we choose to do. This is not about our aches and pains, or unruly kids, or poor grades, or a crabby boss, an unhappy childhood or an auto accident. We call those, "thorns". They happen to us all. Jesus is talking about following him. About doing what's hard.

About setting aside ourselves. About displacing ourselves. Engaging in a difficult conversation to try and work it out, or serving on a board to help kids in trouble, about giving our money to God's work, getting involved with a neighbor in need. It's doing things we don't at first even want to do, but after we take that first step, we begin to see the power of the cross of Jesus at work.

We begin to find ourselves.

But why? Why should we follow Jesus? It's the same as asking why we should trust him? The short answer is because we cannot save ourselves. As good as we might think we are, or clever, or well connected, or good looking or nice, or strong, none of this can save us.

What's hard about all this for successful, self-made, people is that we feel a little embarrassed. It's the feeling of being exposed, that we have to finally admit that Jesus does for us what we cannot do for ourselves. That we are weak. Strangely, ironically, God's love can be embarrassing.

It's like how children can embarrass their parents with the truth.

After the baby was baptized, her four year old brother was crying uncontrollably in the back seat of the car. "What's the matter, Johnny?" asked his worried mom. Johnny replied, "The man said that he hoped our baby would be raised in a good Christian home... I just want her to stay with you guys..."

Maybe in the end that's why we tend to avoid what comes after Palm Sunday. Why we would rather sort of skip over what Maundy Thursday is all about, and, God forbid (!), Good Friday, and just head on to Easter.

No doubt, Easter is everything. Easter is why we're here.

But here's the thing. God is loving us with Holy Week. Try as we might to avoid it, or deny it, the truth will come out in the End.

At least now we know the truth about ourselves and what's going on in this world. At least now we know what to live for, or should I say "whom to live for."

¹ New International Dictionary of New Testament Theology, Willem A. VanGemeren, editor, Zondervan, 1997, vol 1, p 403