Proverbs 1:20-33 James 3:1-12 Mark 8:27-38
[The reading from Mark will be done in a very interactive style, ending with the offer of the cross.]
OK, the interactive part isn’t over. In fact, we are just getting started. Don’t worry, we aren’t going to start with the cross. We’ve got lots of them around the back. What I want to know from you now is who do you say that Jesus is?
[Friend, Son of God, Savior, Messiah, Lord – all of these will be written on a flip chart. I’ll ask for some explanation and offer some as well.]
Wonderful! Thank you! Now, tell me this. What is the one thing that unites the church? Yes! The proclamation of Jesus as the Christ (Messiah, anointed, chosen one for God’s self-revelation/proclamation of the good news of forgiveness and mercy).
What is the one thing that divides the church? Yes! It is the way in which we respond to the good news of Jesus Christ. It is what we do with that message of love and grace and mercy that separates us the most. In some ways, I have hope that our separation is like the continental divide.
Several years ago, I had the chance to go out to Breckenridge and flop on a couch with some friends. While we were out there we took a snowmobile trip up to the continental divide. Our guide assured us that yes, it was true that all the ice on one side would eventually make it to the Atlantic, and that all the frozen water on the other side would eventually make its way to the Pacific.
My hope is that the same is true of our faith. My hope is that the French Philosopher, Chardin, and the Southern novelist, Flannery O'Connor were right that all that rises must converge. Even more so I hope that Martin Luther King Jr. was right that even though the arc of the universe is long – it takes a long time for things to converge – but it bends toward justice.
While we know that the cross is the place where that arc begins – and the place where all our sorrows meet – I just can’t shake the idea that the crowd that Jesus spoke to did not see it that way.
Can you imagine being in that crowd? Can you imagine the looks on their faces when Jesus told them to pick up their crosses? That’s like saying, “Hey, follow me. You’ll be humiliated to death. Literally.”
The cross was a very real form of death for them. It was cruel and ugly, and it was intended to use the victim as an object lesson for the crowd. Now, for those that heard this story a generation later – when it was finally written down – and for you and me, we may look at the invitation slightly differently.
I say slightly, because the first listeners would have seen people they knew, and possibly loved, crucified after the Maccabean revolution. For us, it is only a metaphor, but there are still times when those we know and love – or at least look up to – are publicly shamed even when they do the right thing.
Still, the scandal of the gospel was that God’s anointed one – the one chosen to bring about restoration for the people of Israel – was going to suffer and die and, yes, be raised! Following him meant the same. It meant a path of risk with no earthly reward and only the promise of a heavenly one. That’s what it meant for them. What, then, does following Jesus mean for you and for me?
Does it mean that our faith is lived in private devotion? Does it mean that public witness is a part of it? Does it mean that the crosses that we bear are some kind of assigned hardship meant to purify us for greater glory?
I’m going to go with “yes, yes” and “it depends.” Yes, our faith grows through private devotion. Yes, our faith requires some kind of public witness to be realized. The cross of Jesus, however, is a not about you. Yes, suffering can bring us closer to God, but no, God does not intend for us to suffer.
The idea of bearing crosses has been used for so long to hide from issues like infidelity and abuse and poverty and mental illness and addiction. None of these are the cross of Christ. When a friend of mine from my high school days was told by her church to stay in an unhealthy marriage that resulted in her being violently assaulted, I had to tell her that the violence of her spouse was not the cross of Christ.
The world is full of violence and disorder that we so often create, as noted in the reading from James today. The cross of Christ is the path of order forged by love. It is the counter-intuitive and counter-cultural message that our attempts to be large and in charge are just attempts to grab handfuls of sand.
That’s not so bad, though. N.T. Write has been quoted as saying that the cross of Christ was not just about life and death. It was about humiliation. It was a long, slow, dehumanizing way to die. So, the invitation to this cross is an invitation to look at the things that we think make us more attractive and powerful and protected. It is an invitation to see what inside of us separates us from God and one another, and it is an invitation to let it go.
The cross is also an invitation to look at the issues that threaten us from the outside in. Even though our instinct is to circle the wagons, because of the cross we don’t need to. I’ve heard it said before that whenever we draw a line in the sand between us and someone else, we find that Jesus is on the other side.
In truth, God is not on your side or mine. God is simply waiting for us to set our minds on the things that matter to God. It happens every now and then. I saw it happen at a coffee shop the other day. I was meeting with some friends on a non-profit board – all very fine followers of Jesus. We were very focused on our work and the hope of caring for families in crisis and other vulnerable members of our community.
Suddenly, right behind us, and an older man was struggling while carrying his dishes and trash. A young woman with undercut purple hair, tattoos and a nose ring who had been talking with two others of similar markings – obviously a tribal thing – sprang into action before I could even shift gears into understanding there was a need within my reach.
She – the funky looking tattooed girl – picked up the cross that I was unable to see. Of course, that cross was a pretty comfortable one, but it was a crossing of tribes and a sharing of vulnerability all the same. It was hers, and she took it joyfully.
What will your cross be? What will mine? What cross will we share? How will the cross become the bit and the bridle for our mouths, so that we can bless God and all of those created in God’s image?
You may have noticed that there is a cross up here. You’ll also notice slips of paper in your pew racks. I’d like you to consider writing something that you need to let go of and adding it to the cross at the end of worship today. You could also write about something that you want to take up. Just remember, it is only the cross of Christ if it puts to death the things that separate us from God and one another. It is only the cross of Christ if it moves you to love more purely in the way that God loves you.
This is the wisdom that cries out on the corner of Johnston and University! This is the good news of Jesus Christ! The question is, what are we going to do with it? I imagine that some of our positions and beliefs about hospitality and inclusivity will separate us from others in the Christian faith, but I have hope that all will be one in the end. And to God be the glory for that. Amen.
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