Peter

Trip of a Lifetime

Mark 8:27-38

Jesus went on with his disciples to the villages of Caesarea Philippi; and on the way he asked his disciples, ‘Who do people say that I am?’ And they answered him, ‘John the Baptist; and others, Elijah; and still others, one of the prophets.’ He asked them, ‘But who do you say that I am?’ Peter answered him, ‘You are the Messiah.’* And he sternly ordered them not to tell anyone about him.

Then Jesus began to teach them 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. He said all this quite openly.

And Peter took him aside and began to rebuke him. But turning and looking at his disciples, he rebuked Peter and said, ‘Get behind me, Satan! For you are setting your mind not on divine things but on human things.’

He called the crowd with his disciples, and said to 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? Indeed, what can they give in return for their life?

Those who are ashamed of me and of my words in this adulterous and sinful generation, of them the Son of Man will also be ashamed when he comes in the glory of his Father with the holy angels.’


Recently, I read an article about the potential joys and troubles of traveling with others. One of the stories was about a man named Stephen Garrido, who took a trip with his girlfriend of a year, a trip of a lifetime to Disneyland. He had high hopes for the journey. But apparently, even Disney isn’t always the happiest place on earth. Instead, it was a living nightmare Stephen said.

He learned his girlfriend was much too messy for a small hotel room and worse, extremely rude to staff at the hotel and restaurants. She found out that Stephen snored like a blender full of marbles. The trip ended with her cursing at him profusely and the two split two weeks later.

Getting an invitation or extending an invitation to travel with someone is a big deal. Mainly because I think traveling with someone is the best way to get to know them. The new experiences, stressors, and challenges reveal a new or different side of you and you see a new side revealed of someone else. So you are likely cautious when extending and accepting an invitation to travel.

Jesus and his disciples traveled together a lot, especially in this part of the gospel of Mark. Just in the last two chapters, Jesus had been in the desert, then to Bethsaida, Over to gennesaret, On to Tyre, then Decapolis, Down to Dalmanutha, and finally back to Bethsaida. I’d say from all of that, the disciples and Jesus likely learned a thing or two about another from all this travel. You’d think they knew each other pretty well at this point, but maybe not…

In today’s story, Jesus and the disciples are again traveling, this time from Bethsaida to Caesarea Philippi. And as they were walking, Jesus threw out a question, “who do people say that I am”. It doesn’t seem to have much context, but if we look back a few verses, Jesus was just berating the disciples for not knowing who he was: “do you still not understand? He said.

Are your hearts hardened, do you have eyes and ears and yet you don’t get it? Do you not remember all that I have done? Maybe he was concerned others were just as confused as his disciples.

They responded to the question with logical answers, but none were the answer Jesus had hoped for. “Who do you all say that I am” asking the disciples, thinking maybe after all the traveling and that stern talking to, they had figured it out. And Peter, acting as the spokesperson for all the disciples, says “you are the Messiah.”!

Ah there it is! The right answer. The disciples or at least Peters has it figured out, he knows who Jesus is. The Messiah, the Christ, the anointed one. This is the first time in the entire gospel, more than two thirds of the way through, that someone calls Jesus the Messiah, that someone seemingly understands who he is. And it’s that the best feeling, to be understood, for others to truly know who you are…

But immediately there was a problem. The messiah Peter had envisioned was not the same Messiah that Jesus would be. Peter had created this image, this idea, or ideal, of what the messiah would be and do, act and look like. And that wasn’t something only Peter had done… Many Jews expected and longed for a Messiah to return and restore Israel to all its glory. How that would happen or the kind of messiah the people hoped for, varied.

So when Jesus started revealing the kind of Messiah he would be and what would happen to him, well Peter just couldn’t take it. That’s not what he expected the messiah to be. To be fair, we don’t know exactly what Peter hoped for, but we do know it wasn’t a Messiah who would suffer, get rejected by the religious leaders, and then be killed. That much we know because Peter pulled Jesus to the side and let him know just how wrong he was.

But Peter’s expectations, whatever they were, were wrong or misguided or incomplete. And apparently not in a small way, since Jesus felt the need to call Peter satan, the tempter, and ordered him to turn around and get behind Jesus, because clearly Peter didn’t know what he was talking about.We do the same thing, no? We, too, create an ideal image of our Messiah, an idea of who Jesus should be and how he should act.

We want Jesus to be a judge who condemns all those we think are wrong and who models only what we think is right. We want Jesus to be our grant maker, who will give us the health and wealth we’ve wished for if we just lift up the right prayers.

We want Jesus to be a republican or a democrat, that way we can say “my preferred politician is more Christ like” when really we mean they are more like the Christ we have created for ourselves.

Yet, Jesus is rarely what we want him to be. And like Peter, we get disappointed, upset, and ultimately let down by this. The truth is our partner, our friends, siblings, parents, kids and coworkers, even our Messiah will never live up to or fulfill the image of who we want them to be.

If we hold them to some version we’ve made up for them, they will inevitably leave us angry, wishing they were more like this or that, and the relationship will suffer if not cease.

A deeper, more fruitful relationship can only occur when one sees the other person for who they really are and not who they wished them to be, Jesus included. Because Jesus isn’t always the messiah we want, but he is always the messiah we need. We need a messiah who meets us in our suffering. A messiah who knows what it’s like to face rejection and heartache and despair and share in that with us. A messiah who comforts the afflicted and afflicts the comfortable. A messiah who willingly lays down his life in order to give you a new one, full of grace and forgiveness and love.

I find great comfort in knowing that Peter didn’t fully understand Jesus. This man who had traveled all over Judea, who had seen the miracles, who used the right words, but in many ways still got it wrong. What I find even more comforting is that he still got the invitation to follow Jesus.

We don’t have to have it all right, we don’t have to understand everything about God or Jesus or the faith we claim. We can have doubts and questions and even wrong ideas about all of it.

The good news is that the invitation still stands! Jesus extends the invitation to follow him, to travel with him regardless of what we have wrong, or if we feel our faith isn’t deep enough or strong enough or sincere enough. He doesn’t say you need to have this understanding, or you have to know this, or even believe these things about him.

In fact, it is because Peter, the disciples, and the crowd don’t have it all figured out that Jesus invites them in the first place. Unlike you and me, Jesus isn’t cautious about who he invites because Jesus knows that if you really want to get to know him, you have to travel with him.

I hope we model this well here at Cross of Grace, especially on days like today, when we welcome new Partners in Mission. Hopefully, we have been clear, you don’t have to have it all figured out, or believe in every single thing we do, or know all the answers. We don’t! Because becoming a Partner in Mission isn’t about any of that.

Being a Partner in Mission is about accepting the invitation to travel with us. Today you are saying I am willing to take this journey of faith alongside you. And in return we get to say, Thanks be to God. We’re so glad you’re here because we are in for the trip of a lifetime.

We will undoubtedly learn new things about one another, we won’t get it all figured out, but we’ll ask questions and support each other along the way. And we’ll help each other aside the idea of the messiah we want and together we’ll follow the messiah we need.

Amen


Bouncers and Bridesmaids

Matthew 25:1-13

[Jesus said,] “Then the kingdom of heaven will be like this. Ten bridesmaids took their lamps and went out to meet the bridegroom. Five of them were foolish and five of them were wise. The foolish took no oil with their lamps, but the wise took flasks of oil with their lamps. As the bridegroom was delayed, they all became drowsy and slept. But at midnight there was a shout, ‘Look! Here is the bridegroom. Come out to meet him.’

“So the bridesmaids got up and began to trim their lamps. The foolish said to the wise, ‘Give us some of your oil, for our lamps are going out.’ The wise replied, ‘No. There will not be enough for you and for us. You had better go to the dealers and buy some more for yourselves.’ And while they were out, the bridegroom came and those who were ready went with him into the banquet and the door was shut. Later, the others returned and, knocking on the door, cried, ‘Lord! Lord! Open to us!’ But the bridegroom replied, ‘Very truly I tell you, I do not know you.’

“Keep awake, therefore, for you know neither the day nor the hour.”


The fun and faithful thing to do with any good parable is to imagine where we fit into the narrative of it all. In the one about the Prodigal Son, we’re supposed to wonder if we are the son who ran off with all of the father’s money, or the older sibling who stayed at home, followed the rules, and pouted about the father’s generosity. In another parable we’re supposed to wonder if we are the one sheep who got lost and separated from the fold, or if we’re part of the 99 who huddled safely with the rest of the flock. Are we the hardest working laborer in the vineyard or are we the ones who show up long after lunch and still get paid a full day’s wage? Are we the priest, the Levite, or the Good Samaritan in that story about the guy who gets beaten, abused and abandoned by robbers on the road to Jericho? You get the idea.

And this morning is no different, though it does seem a bit harder to distinguish where we should look to find ourselves here – or who’s who at all in this strange story. The more traditional and obvious interpretations of the parable of the ten bridesmaids invite us to wonder about whether we’d find ourselves in league with the wise or the foolish. Are we wise, faithful and prepared, with enough oil to keep our lamps lit and be on time for the wedding banquet? Or are we foolish procrastinators, running out of oil and running to the store for more oil, just in time to miss the party?

Isn’t that what it seems to be about at first glance? Like someone is suggesting we keep awake, be prepared, keep our lamps trimmed and burning; that we keep the faith, practice our piety, do all the right things; so that when the bridegroom comes – who is clearly Jesus in this scenario – we’ll be welcomed into the party.

But this traditional interpretation requires us to wonder if Jesus is a jerk – like the bridegroom seems to be in this story; like he’s some sort of bouncer at the bar, checking IDs and deciding who gets in and who is kept out of the pearly gates of paradise, rather than the loving, generous, merciful, forgiving, gracious host I’ve been told my whole life to expect to greet me when the time comes. It’s a nightmare to suggest Jesus would leave us locked outside the Kingdom’s door, saying “very truly” that he doesn’t even know who we are.

Because, think about it, Jesus promised, earlier in this same Gospel, “Ask, and it will be given to you; search, and you will find; knock and the door will be opened for you. For everyone who asks receives, and everyone who searches finds, and for everyone who knocks, the door will be opened.” So that can’t be the guy standing at the door this morning at the wedding; the guy who lets the first five, wise ones in, and pretends he doesn’t even know the other late, foolish bridesmaids who ran out of oil. Are you with me?

This can’t be the same Jesus who, just two chapters earlier in this same Gospel, warned the scribes and Pharisees, “…woe to you … hypocrites! For you lock people out of the kingdom of heaven. For you do not go in yourselves, and when others are going in, you stop them.” Why would Jesus chastise gatekeepers and door-lockers in one breath and then invite us to imagine him to be one of them in the next? I don’t think he would. And I don’t think that’s what he’s doing this morning.

In a blog I read this week, a pastor named Michael Krey confirmed something I’ve preached before about this parable – that it’s fair and faithful to see the bridegroom at the door in this parable, not as Jesus at all, but as Peter – as Cephas – the rock on whom the Church is built. And he made it seem more obvious and concrete than I have ever thought before.

Remember that story about Peter? In this same Gospel, Matthew, Chapter 16, after Peter declares, with great faith, that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of the living God, Jesus says that he’s right, and that, because of his faith, his name going forward would be Cephas, which means “Rock,” and upon that rock, he would build God’s Church; that he would give him the proverbial keys to the front door… I mean the keys to the wedding banquet… I mean the keys to the Kingdom… along with the power to bind and loose sins, and ostensibly, then, to choose who’s in and who’s out; who’s wise and who’s foolish; who wins and who loses; and so on and so on.

And if all of that’s true… if Peter is the one working the door and if Peter represents the Church… and if we are the Church – you and I… THAT’S where we find ourselves in this parable in the end. And THAT leaves us to wonder some pretty big stuff – not about how wise and foolish we are, like so many bridesmaids. But, we’re left to wonder, instead, how we manage the blessings of the Kingdom we’re called to share.

Who are we keeping out and who are we welcoming in? Are we a place that plays host only to the wise and the well-healed; those who have all the oil, if you will; all the resources; those who refuse to share with those the world would call foolish? Are we throwing a party for the wise bridesmaids who don’t have time or space or grace or mercy for the less fortunate; the less privileged; the late… or less desirable… or lazy… or whatever else the world encourages us to call those we don’t deem to be worthy of God’s fullness?

If you prayed over the course of this weekend’s 36 Hour Prayer Vigil, or if you paid attention to the materials we shared regarding this morning’s Commitment Sunday, or if you’ve just been around here for a while, I hope you have received the message that we are trying to share our oil and the light of our proverbial lamps with the world around us in as many ways as we can manage.

Remember, we’ve transformed our Building Fund into a Building and Outreach Fund, since we paid off our mortgage over a year ago. And that means we have plans to be prepared and ready, like so many wise bridesmaids, by saving some of our money for future expansion, and by saving for maintenance and repair needs, as they come. It also means we’re committed to giving 50% of those offerings away, outside of ourselves, to the tune of about $80,000 this year alone.

For me, that’s our way of saying, this isn’t all or only about “us,” by any stretch; that we’re always working to make room for more. That we’re always being called to give outside of ourselves. And that we’re forever being challenged to open our doors and our hands and our hearts to whoever comes knocking, looking for the banquet of grace we enjoy in this place, on behalf of the world.

Which brings me back to Peter, and the challenging invitation it is to see ourselves, in him, as God’s church in the world, manning the door to the Kingdom among us. See, the other evidence and justification we have for imagining that bridegroom to be Peter, is the last, awful thing he says to the bridesmaids he keeps locked outside of the wedding banquet. Do you remember what he said? “Very truly I tell you, I do not know you.”

Peter did that one other time, remember. Or three other times, actually, when he denied Jesus just before the crucifixion. “I don’t know the man,” he declared when he was accused of being one of Jesus’ disciples. The denial of the bridesmaids in the parable this morning is a foreshadowing of Peter’s denial of Jesus, himself. And it’s a warning for us, just that same, that that is not who or how we’re called to be as God’s Church in the world.

So may this parable be an invitation, not just to be wise instead of foolish and prepared at every turn; not just to store up and share our oil in faithful, responsible ways; not just to wait patiently and with hope for the coming of God’s Kingdom and, indeed, to recognize it in our midst.

But may this parable be another invitation to look for Jesus, himself … in the outcast among us … knocking at the door when we least expect it. And may it be encouragement to do our best to be prepared, with resources and with grace, with hospitality and with hope, to welcome him in to the feast that is his in the first place … and that is ours to share … always, for the sake of the world … until justice rolls down like water and righteousness like an ever-flowing stream for all of God’s children, just as it has been promised to you and to me.

Amen