Psalm 26:1-8
Romans 12:9-21
Matthew 16:21-28
Sermon: Wading into the Waters
As
someone who loves to swim, water rarely feels dangerous to me. I am likely to rush to put my feet into any
body of water I encounter. I’m happiest
near, in, or floating on water. But
Floodwaters are an entirely different story.
This
week, as we watched the city of Houston fill up like a bathtub, water
represented not serenity and fun, but power, danger and destruction. Floodwaters conceal all sorts of menacing
things. The murkiness of floodwater could be hiding cut glass or jagged metal,
live wires, sudden depth, or a swift current below. In a flood situation, there’s no telling if
the water is contaminated with chemicals, gasoline, or e.Coli. Taking steps into the water, you have no idea
what awaits you. As video and stories
surfaced of people trudging through knee- or waist-high water to higher ground,
or police, first responders and sometimes bystanders formed human chains to
provide safe passage to stranded strangers, my admiration for their bravery
steadily grew.
Wading
into those waters immediately rendered each person vulnerable to a host of
hazards.
In
our scripture today, Peter has done a quick transformation. Just last week – just a few sentences ago in
the scripture – Peter (who was Simon at the time) proclaimed Jesus the Messiah,
the Son of the Living God. Jesus,
impressed with his God-given insight, re-named him Peter – the Greek word for
Rock, and then says ‘on this rock I will build my church’. (Whether that rock was Peter himself or the
crystalized faith of recognizing the Messiah will be the debate between Catholics
and Protestants for centuries…)
Now,
just a few lines later, Jesus calls him Satan. …That was
quick.
Peter’s
only sin in his fast fall from the foundation Rock of faith to the Evil one was
a desire to keep Jesus safe. And Jesus
regards Peter’s request the same as when he battles Satan during his 40 days in
prayer; Peter presents a dangerous temptation to abandon the mission of
exposing himself to the danger – the murky waters of what the Empire of Rome
will do to him. Anyone would prefer to
go to higher ground and leave the vulnerability of murky waters behind…
but Jesus knows his calling. And while
Peter has correctly named Jesus as the Messiah, his understanding of this title
is limited. He is still hoping that
Messiah means victory over enemies and earthly shows of power. Peter’s instinct to keep Jesus safe has just
become another obstacle hidden in the water to stumble over.
But
in Jesus’ reaction, we see a vulnerability we don’t often see in our Lord and
Savior according to the Gospel. It shows
that he was susceptible to the allure of an easier journey, the privilege and
creature comforts of Empire, an escape from the assured death at the hands of
Rome. The life of a prophet, or a
revolutionary Messiah, is not without these weaknesses and second-guessing.
Nothing
drives that home as well as our passage from the Old Testament. The prophet Jeremiah is the prophet who had
God’s will written on his heart. He is
called the steadfast spokesperson for God throughout the 52 chapters in the
Bible that documents his life. Of all
the prophets in the Old Testament, we know the most about Jeremiah, whose
prophetic activity spanned some forty years from 622 to 586 BCE. When we read from Jeremiah, we are at many
points reading from the man’s personal diary, seeing plainly his struggle to be
faithful to God’s claim upon his life while coping with disappointments that
bring him much inner pain. Here in chapter 15, he doubts. He fears. He laments.
He says to God, perhaps you are wrong.
Maybe the people’s lives are not so bad.
But even if they are sinful, my life is painful. Jeremiah is weak, like Peter. Has no idea what ministry will require of
him. God had forbidden Jeremiah from
marrying, having children, or socializing.
He is isolated, alienated, lonely, and nicknamed “Danger-Everywhere” by
the crowds who find his admonishments laughable. In the midst of this, Jeremiah assails God
for not providing enough sustenance for the journey. For not being present enough. For not working more on his behalf.
This
is a classic, ‘pick up your cross’ moment.
God listens to Jeremiah’s complaints, and there’s no sense of punishment
for his lament. But God responds to
Jeremiah by pulling him back on track, promising strength in the face of his
enemies – but not less challenge for his journey. God essentially says, ‘pick up your cross,
Jeremiah. This is the gig. Speaking my truth is a lonely road.’ All prophets wade into floodwaters without
any idea of what awaits them; often living at the crossroads of their faith,
their society, and their governmental situation.
And
it’s no different for Peter. Jesus snaps
back at Peter that following the call of God, or discipleship in the way of the
Cross, requires a sacrifice and a surrender.
It’s not some version of Christianity promising wealth and riches, power
and glory. Jesus has firmly cast his lot with the powerless in society; with
the poor, and the sick, and the lame, and the outcast. He touched who was considered unclean, he ate
with sinners, and he brought Good News to the poor. Not only will the poor always be with us, but
Jesus is saying – and saying this with his life – that they are we, and we are
they. To follow in the way of the Cross,
God’s requirement is a surrender of your earthly desires for the hidden mystery
and risk of muddy waters. The
requirements of walking in ‘the way of the Cross’ is to embrace the sacrifice
and surrender of ones’ life on behalf of others – while still acknowledging the
challenge in those words. Discipleship requires us to get vulnerable with the
messiness of the world. Jesus doesn’t call us
to deny our humanity but to commit to following him while fully accepting how
vulnerable we will be if we choose to be radical for the Gospel.
Radical, you say?
What do you mean, radical? I mean
radical in our compassion for one another.
Loving and outdoing one-another in mutual affection, in the words of the
Apostle Paul. Rather than asking God for
retribution, we are to pray for our enemies and those who persecute. Stand up for those in need. Be humble, patient in suffering, diligent in
prayer, and extend hospitality to strangers. In fact, go above and beyond the
request. When tempted for revenge,
respond instead with grace and generosity. This is, indeed, radical and
revolutionary in this world.
The
amazing thing about the gospel is precisely that God chooses not to become a
powerful, exalted leader by coming as a despised Jew in the Roman Empire, a
lowly Galilean among the Jerusalem establishment, living in the mess of
humanity and ultimately becoming a victim of our collective dysfunction. If we are going to become followers of Jesus,
we cannot become any less vulnerable with, toward, and for others. Our concern is not first and foremost the
purity of the church or the rightness of our doctrine, but our willingness to
follow Jesus into the world and onto the cross.
We do not control God or give Jesus the conditions to our discipleship;
instead, we risk contamination and insecurity by releasing the need to protect
our own lives and institutions. Jesus was willing to be God’s revolutionary
Messiah knowing the violence that could be done to his body as a consequence of
pursuing justice, love and peace instead of the privileges of empire. He calls us to do the same.
Like the strangers and first responders who waded
into the murky depths on behalf of others in need, our God says – it’s murky,
it might be dangerous, it’ll probably be lonely, but it’s what I need from
you. Will you pick up your cross and
follow me?
For all those who try, and try again, let the
church say Amen.
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