Gospel of Mark

"Rock Out" – Mark 16:1-8

Mark 16:1-8

When the sabbath was over, Mary Magdalene, and Mary the mother of James, and Salome bought spices, so that they might go and anoint him. And very early on the first day of the week, when the sun had risen, they went to the tomb. They had been saying to one another, “Who will roll away the stone for us from the entrance to the tomb?” When they looked up, they saw that the stone, which was very large, had already been rolled back. As they entered the tomb, they saw a young man, dressed in a white robe, sitting on the right side; and they were alarmed. But he said to them, “Do not be alarmed; you are looking for Jesus of Nazareth, who was crucified. He has been raised; he is not here. Look, there is the place they laid him. But go, tell his disciples and Peter that he is going ahead of you to Galilee; there you will see him, just as he told you.” So they went out and fled from the tomb, for terror and amazement had seized them; and they said nothing to anyone, for they were afraid.


Every three years the church gathers on Easter Sunday to hear the resurrection story from the gospel of Mark. As you listened to this text today, did you notice anything that’s different from the story you’ve heard on other Easter celebrations? I’ll give you a hint…the difference has to do with Jesus…

...In today’s story, he’s nowhere to be found!

Today is a day dedicated to celebrating the Lord Jesus, risen from the dead…but he never even makes an appearance in the story!

It would be like going to your first Colts game only to find out Andrew Luck announced his retirement earlier that morning.

It would be like setting up a romantic evening to propose to your girlfriend, but she cancels to hang out with an old friend who unexpectedly returned to town.

It would be like going to the new Avengers movie and finding out they replaced the Incredible Hulk with Gumby.

marvel-avengers.jpg

So, we’re all set to celebrate Jesus risen from the dead but all we have is the empty tomb.

Seems to me that the main subject in Mark’s story isn’t Jesus, but rather, the heavy stone covering the tomb. That’s right, today I’m going to preach about a big rock.

Imagine with me now, to a day 2,000 years ago, as the three women are walking to Jesus’ tomb early that morning, carrying the spices that will be used to anoint his corpse. A few steps into their journey one of them says, “Wait, what are we doing? We’re not going to be able to move the stone to get in there to anoint Jesus’ body!”

They stop in the middle of the road. One of them suggests they turn around and go home. There’s a voice of agreement from another; but the third woman wants to charge ahead with their mission. It’s one against two; but the minority voice wins out. “No, we’re going to do this,” she says. “I don’t know how, but we’ll worry about that when we get there.”

Through their whole journey, the question of how they are going to get on the other side of this heavy stone is all they can think about. It’s contentious. No one is in agreement. There is no clear-cut foolproof solution. Without easy answers ahead of them, they start to distrust one another. One of the women who originally wanted to give up and go home mutters under her breath, “I told you this was a bad idea. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

As they begin to see the outline of the cave in the distance, the women decided their best option to to wait outside the tomb until someone comes by to roll away the stone from the entrance to the tomb.

They arrive. They look up. They notice that the stone, which was very large, had already been rolled back.

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“How are we going to get on the other side of this heavy stone?”

On the road, it seems like the most important question in the world.

But it ends up being a red herring, an imaginary problem, something that needlessly fed their fears.

The stone had already been rolled away.

What good news is there in a gospel story about resurrection that fails to locate or describe the risen body of Jesus? The good news is that the obstacles that we think are so important, so monumental, so immovable…have already been taken care of for us.

The heavy stones in our lives–the barriers separating us from the new life, hope, and love we so desperately want to experience–have already been moved aside. That’s what God does. God is in the rock-moving, obstacle-clearing, barrier-busting business.

So, what’s the heavy stone in your life? What is the important, monumental, and seemingly-immovable obstacle that is preventing you from experiencing new life, hope, and love?

It’s my fear that too many of us are frustrated and kicking pebbles down paths that we assume will end in nothing but a tomb: broken relationships, feelings of inadequacy, fear of failure, questions we are ashamed to ask, mistakes we are ashamed to admit, ideas we are ashamed to profess. We distrust our fellow travelers on the way. We mutter “I told you so” under our breath. We think about quitting and going home. We spend our time worrying about how we will ever move the heavy stone. But the thing about immovable obstacles is that they are immovable...for us.

Even if the women on the road would have run full speed toward the tomb, confident in their power, faith, and problem-solving, they never would have been able to move that stone away.

So it’s a good thing God already took care of it.

It’s the same story for any barrier that we think is important, monumental, and immovable – from perverted politics to debilitating depression, from keeping up with the Joneses to dead-end jobs. Our mission is not to move heavy stones in order to anoint the dead. Our mission is to live in a way that honors the fact that the stones are already rolled away; new life, hope, and love have been unleashed; and God is among the living.

So much of what is so terribly wrong in our world is a result of our bickering and blindness as we fret about the big challenges that we assume are around the bend. Which is why we need to remember the women who journeyed to the tomb. They stop in the middle of the road. One of them suggests they turn around and go home. There’s a voice of agreement from another; but the third woman wants to charge ahead with their mission. It’s one against two; but the minority voice wins out. “No, we’re going to do this,” she says. “I don’t know how, but we’ll worry about that when we get there.”

Indeed, let’s charge ahead with our mission to live with hope, to forgive our enemies, to serve all in need, to be light in the darkness, and to love one another as Christ loves us, because that is what God unleashed on the world the day God rolled away the heavy stone.

Amen.

"You're Out of Control!" – Mark 8:31-38

Mark 8:31-38

“He then began explaining things to them: “It is necessary that the Son of Man proceed to an ordeal of suffering, be tried and found guilty by the elders, high priests, and religion scholars, be killed, and after three days rise up alive.” He said this simply and clearly so they couldn’t miss it.
But Peter grabbed him in protest. Turning and seeing his disciples wavering, wondering what to believe, Jesus confronted Peter. “Peter, get out of my way! Satan, get lost! You have no idea how God works.”

Calling the crowd to join his disciples, he said, “Anyone who intends to come with me has to let me lead. You’re not in the driver’s seat; I am. Don’t run from suffering; embrace it. Follow me and I’ll show you how. Self-help is no help at all. Self-sacrifice is the way, my way, to saving yourself, your true self. What good would it do to get everything you want and lose you, the real you? What could you ever trade your soul for?

“If any of you are embarrassed over me and the way I’m leading you when you get around your fickle and unfocused friends, know that you’ll be an even greater embarrassment to the Son of Man when he arrives in all the splendor of God, his Father, with an army of the holy angels.”

Excerpt From: Eugene H. Peterson. “The Message of Easter.”


My best friend in high school was my partner for the in-car portion of our driver’s ed. class. So, for three Saturday mornings in high school, we jumped into a small red sedan with a “student driver” sign perched atop–warning the world to steer as clear as possible from the vehicle of destruction piloted by pimply teens and their hostage (I mean, instructor).

My buddy and I had the uncanny ability to make each other laugh, usually by doing nothing more than quoting lines from dumb movies. So that’s what we did those mornings in the car. One of us drove and the other sat in the back and tried to make the driver laugh. The instructor spent the time alternating between begging us to shut up and yelling at us to keep both hands on the wheel.

The last day of car time, the driver’s ed. instructor asked me to drive the 20 miles to the big city of Defiance, Ohio. Now, the thing about this big city, compared with the little village where we were from, was the number of stoplights: my hometown had three, Defiance had about a hundred more; so I didn’t have much practice with them. As I approached one of the many stoplight-guided intersections that day, no doubt laughing at something my friend had just told me, I noticed the yellow light and I sped up to make it through the intersection. But the light turned red a second before I got there, and before I knew what was happening, the car screeched to an abrupt stop in the middle of the intersection. We had not been in an accident and no one was hurt; rather, the instructor had slammed down on the brake pedal that was located at her feet on the passenger side of the car.

I remember just how incredibly jarring it felt to be in control of the car and then suddenly have no power over it. It’s quite similar to how it has occasionally felt driving in the snow this winter. I think I’m in control and then all the sudden I’m going in a direction I didn’t ask the car to go. These experiences of not being in control are frightening, confusing, and embarrassing.

Literally and figuratively, it feels like we don’t always know who’s driving the car. Which is why I appreciate this modern translation of of today’s gospel where Jesus announces to the crowd,“You’re not in the driver’s seat. I am.”

This may not strike many of us as good news. After all, we spend so much of our time and energy convincing ourselves we are in control of the vehicle of our life.

There are shelves of self-help books devoted to the idea of taking control of your life. They encourage assertiveness, demanding what you are due, and not allowing yourself to be a victim of other peoples’ successes and failures. It’s an attractive message to offer someone who feels beholden to and betrayed by the breezes of life.

A problem, however, is that our lives are not in our control. We can predict the events and outcomes of our lives tomorrow about as correctly as we can predict the weather. Or, more accurately, we can control the events and outcomes of our lives tomorrow about as well as we can control the weather. So why do we spend so much time and energy trying to convince ourselves that we could be in control, that we should be in the driver’s seat?

This is likely what motivates Jesus’ comment, “Self-help is no help at all. Self-sacrifice is the way, my way, to saving yourself, your true self;” which is a modern translation of, “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.”

What we have here is Jesus presenting us with layer upon layer of what sounds like bad news. First he announces that he will endure suffering leading to death, then he admits those who follow him follow him into suffering and death as well. He pleads for the crowds to embrace their suffering and live sacrificially. And he concludes with the warning that anyone who is ashamed or embarrassed to follow Jesus on this path will find God ashamed and embarrassed of them.

This is the first any of Jesus’ disciples are hearing about this. Up to this point they’ve been quite impressed with Jesus and his ability to heal, teach, walk on water, still a storm, and feed the multitudes. The disciples are thinking they’ve done well to hitch their wagons to Jesus’ star. Victory over their oppressors looks imminent. And as Christ’s inner circle, they assume they are set up for life. But then Jesus sets ‘em straight and bums ‘em out.

I’m inclined to think that if I had written Mark’s gospel I would have left that little episode out of the book. But it’s there, right in the middle of a book called a gospel (or “good news”).

So, why is it good news that this Jesus who embraces suffering and sacrifice is in the driver’s seat? Probably because if Jesus is in the driver’s seat, that means I’m not. And that’s a good thing.

Left to my own devices, I don’t live sacrificially. I don’t put others needs first. I wouldn’t seek out suffering, and yes, I would be embarrassed of a God who would demand anything different from me.

We have much to learn from Jesus – the one who came not to be served but to serve. We have much to emulate from Jesus – the one who chooses self-sacrifice over self-help. But that’s not the good news. The good news, is the truth that the one who came to serve and sacrifice did so for all of us who would strive above all things to be prosperous, strong, successful and influential. We are recipients and heirs of an unearned grace. The good news is that Jesus is in the driver’s seat.

I’ve had several conversations with people who tell me when they look at the world and see the suffering, pain, and injustice in the world they doubt whether a good God is actually in control. I’ve had the same thoughts myself, to be honest. But is the suffering, pain, and injustice in the world proof that God isn’t in control, or is it proof of how much damage we can cause when we pretend that we are in control?

The lie that American Christianity believes is that God promises an easy, carefree life where everyone respects us, admires us, and trusts us to lead the world into the promised land.

The truth that American Christianity doesn’t want to hear is that “to follow Jesus is to live lives of service to others, to serve rather than to control and dominate. It means the opposite of being proud of station and status for ourselves at the expense of others.”[1]

What would it look like for American Christians to admit we’re not in control, and that that’s a good thing? What would be possible if American Christians left our blind ambition and arrogance at the foot of the cross? What kind of relationships would be possible if American Christians truly believed we had something to learn from people who are different from us. Where might God lead us once we took our foot off the wheel?

Amen.


1. Michael Rogness, Working Preacher commentary on Mark 8: 31-38 (http://www.workingpreacher.org/preaching.aspx?commentary_id=2316)