"The Wonderful Whys" – Mark 9: 30-37

Mark 9:30-37

They went on from there and passed through Galilee. He did not want anyone to know it; for he was teaching his disciples, saying to them, "The Son of Man is to be betrayed into human hands, and they will kill him, and three days after being killed, he will rise again." But they did not understand what he was saying and were afraid to ask him.

Then they came to Capernaum; and when he was in the house he asked them, "What were you arguing about on the way?" But they were silent, for on the way they had argued with one another who was the greatest. He sat down, called the twelve, and said to them, "Whoever wants to be first must be last of all and servant of all." Then he took a little child and put it among them; and taking it in his arms, he said to them, "Whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me welcomes not me but the one who sent me."

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You are likely familiar with a notorious stage of childhood development – a part of life that is a standard gag reel on sitcoms – where a cute child spends the entire episode asking, “Why?”

That’s the territory my wife and I have traversed with both our boys. Here’s a typical exchange..

“Please eat your broccoli.”
“Why?”
“So that you can grow big and strong.”
“Why?”
“Because broccoli has vitamins that make your bones and muscles strong.”
“Why?”
“Just eat it please.”
“Why?”

Truth be told, exchanges like these are only really annoying when it’s clear the kids have zoned out and are only saying it because they’re in auto-pilot mode.

The other times, when kids are really engaged and curious, their whys are wonderful. Their questions demonstrate a willingness and eagerness to learn new things. Kids intuitively knows that the best way to learn is by asking questions.

Learning by asking questions is a simple and fundamental concept, which unfortunately tends to fade away in most people as we grow older.

I’m not sure at what point this typically occurs, but most of us have crossed a threshold where we now think that asking questions is less a sign of being willing to learn, and more a mark of ignorance or incompetence. After all, people who ask questions are people who don’t have the answers. That’s not a trait people generally want to be known by.

And yet, the world’s top innovators, scientists, software developers, economists, journalists, teachers, engineers, and artists are all guided by the same question: “Why?”

As Albert Einstein said, “It is not that I'm so smart. But I stay with the questions much longer....The important thing is not to stop questioning. Curiosity has its own reason for existing.”

In today’s Gospel account, Jesus is teaching his disciples. He teaches them that the Messiah they have been waiting for will be so radically different from what they expected that he will actually be killed by the very people he came to lead. It’s not new news, Jesus has already told the disciples all this before. But still, the disciples do not understand. And, as scripture points out, they were “afraid to ask him.”

It would have been perfectly acceptable for the disciples to say to Jesus, “Why?”…

Why is the Messiah going to be so different from what everyone has expected?

Why will the Messiah allow himself to be killed?

Why will he rise three days after being killed?

Why should we believe you?

But instead they remained silent and afraid…

afraid Jesus would get annoyed with their questions;

afraid asking questions would be seen as a lack of faith or trust;

afraid asking questions would make them appear weak or stupid in front of the other disciples;

or maybe even afraid that asking questions will prompt Jesus to talk even more about the suffering that he and the disciples would soon endure – a topic they probably didn’t want to think about.

They didn’t understand what Jesus was teaching them, and out of fear they did not ask questions. They missed an opportunity to engage in fruitful and meaningful conversation with Jesus; and instead they turned to arguing with one another about a topic of no real importance–the topic of who among them was the greatest.

Imagine the scene of a teacher who has lost control of the classroom. What do students do when they are not engaged, not learning, and not asking questions? Theydoodle,  stare out the windows,  run around the room,  pull out their cell phones;  and then there are those who, instead of asking and learning, fight with each other about things that are ultimately of no real significance

So, here’s my question: Has God lost control of his classroom?

Are God’s beloved people engaged, curious and eager to learn? Or are God’s beloved people distracted, aloof, afraid to ask questions, and too preoccupied arguing about things that are of no real significance?

The darkest time in my life was when I had tough, serious questions about my faith; but I was too afraid to bring my questions before my friends, family, and, especially, God.

I assumed I would be rejected for asking my questions aloud.

I assumed I was already rejected by God for having the questions to begin with.

I thought I, as a Christian, was supposed to have answers. And when those answers I learned in church suddenly seemed inadequate, I felt ashamed and did not know where to turn.

Fortunately, while working at a summer camp later that year I finally took the risk of being honest and public about my questions. My peers didn’t attempt to correct me with pat answers; nor did they didn’t shame me for doubting. A few even said they had the same questions.

The response of my friends and co-workers was one of patient listening, unconditional acceptance, empathy, and support. It was their response that helped me take that first step down the path of faith once more.

People of faith are called to be guardians of the great questions. We encourage people to ask questions about God; and we ask questions ourselves. Tugging at Jesus’ robe asking “Why?” indicates that we are engaged in the world and wrestling with difficult issues. And asking questions opens us up to new insights we would have otherwise missed.

Each one of us has questions we’ve never asked. Maybe it’s because we don’t really want to know the answer, or we are afraid what others would think of us, or we think asking questions betrays faith.

But I will remind you of something most of us probably heard from a teacher at least once in our lifetime: “The only stupid question is the one that…[is not asked].”

So, today, I want you to take the time to ask questions.

Find somewhere to write down a question about your faith, God, the church, or the Bible. Just as we give God our time, talents, and resources, we also gratefully give God our questions, challenges, and doubts. It’s a sign we’re actively engaged and that we take this complex faith seriously.

My hope for you is that you would practice asking difficult questions, not just of God, church or your pastor; but also questions about your life, your identity, your job, your priorities, your values.

Meditate on the questions. Keep these questions in the forefront of your mind during the week, and let these questions lead you in new, unexpected, and wonderful directions.

I’ll leave you with this quote from Mary Doria Russell in her work, The Sparrow:
    
“The Jewish sages...tell us that God dances when His children defeat Him in argument, when they stand on their feet and use their minds. So questions...are worth asking. To ask them is a very fine kind of human behavior. If we keep demanding that God yield up His answers, perhaps some day we will understand them. And then we will be something more...and we shall dance with God.”

Amen.

"Brave. Vulnerable. Kind." – Mark 8:27-38

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 he 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.”

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I’ve just begun participation in a weekly meeting of what are called “Race Relation Dialogue Circles.” It’s just what it sounds like, a group of about 12 people of different races and ethnicities, who literally sit in a circle, to discuss all sorts of things about race and ethnicity; prejudice and racism in our lives, in our country, and in our world as we experience it.

At our very first meeting, our first order of business was to lay out some ground rules and expectations for our time together. (If you’ve been in a class with me before, or if you’re in one of our new Grace Groups, you have some idea of what these rules and expectations turned out to be.) Stuff like respecting other perspectives and experiences, honoring the confidentiality of what is shared, not monopolizing the conversation, and so on. But, one of my favorite “rules and expectations” we agreed upon was something about letting the group always be a safe place – even when we disagree about something – so that we could allow each other to be brave and vulnerable and kind.

Brave, vulnerable, and kind – at least that’s the translation in my notes of that particular rule and expectation. And I remember thinking – even though I signed up for this… even though I sort of expected it…even though I’ve asked it of so many of you over the years in different ways – the prospect of being brave, and vulnerable, and kind, isn’t always something I’m naturally inclined toward, as strange as that is to admit.

These are ideals, right? Bravery. Vulnerability. Kindness. These are admirable traits to be practiced and modeled. But how often do we sit down – in the presence of strangers – and commit to go searching for ways to be brave, vulnerable, and kind?

Most of the time, we’re brave when we have to be, right? We’re vulnerable when we don’t have a choice a lot of the time, don’t you think? When the crisis comes…when the struggles hit… when we fail the test, drop the ball, or lose the job, or whatever. For too many of us, too much of the time, we don’t go seeking opportunities to be brave or vulnerable or even kind unless or until a situation presents itself or demands that we be those things.

So, sitting around that circle, I sort of wondered if I really wanted to stick with it…to invest in the group…to make this commitment. What if I was surrounded byknuckleheads? What if we disagree more than we agree? What if my words don’t come out right? What if I’m misunderstood? What if I’m even more white and more privileged and more blind to the issues of race than I’m willing to admit? What if this isn’t the safe place it intends to be? What if some of these people are less brave or less vulnerable or less kind than others?

And I wonder if these are like the questions Peter, and Jesus’ disciples, and those crowds wondered about when they heard Jesus’ challenge and call to “deny themselves, take up their cross, and follow.” It sounds like bravery, vulnerability, and kindness, to me. It’s very much the call and challenge of the Christian life, really. And it’s hard work, plain and simple.

And Jesus makes no bones about it. “…the Son of Man must undergo great suffering… be rejected by the elders and the chief priests and the scribes… be killed, and after three days rise again.” He calls out his best friend, Peter, for setting his mind “not on divine things, but on human things.”And he says, to whoever will listen, that “If any want to become … disciples, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow.”

Follow him toward suffering. Follow him toward rejection. Follow him toward death. Because “those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for [his] sake, and for the sake of gospel, will save it.”  How brave and vulnerable and kind can you be?

But this is what God calls us to do and to be: to deny ourselves; to take up the cross of sacrifice and suffering; to follow God, in Jesus, to places and on behalf of people who give us opportunities to be loving and gracious and forgiving – brave, vulnerable and kind. And if Jesus is asking us to do it – to live this way – the least we can do is to start imagining what that would look like, don’t you think? I don’t think Jesus wants us to sit back and wait for opportunities for all of this to come our way. I think Jesus wants us to follow him into ways of life that make it happen – for us and for the world.

So I wonder what it might look like if we took Jesus seriously. What if we let our faith dream bigger than our fear when it comes to answering this call to self-denial, crosses, and following? What if we let our faith dream bigger than our fear so we really did live in ways that are more brave, and vulnerable, and kind?

Could it mean signing a dotted line and standing up in worship to join the ranks of a new congregation like some of our newest Partners in Mission will do/have done with us today? Sure.

Could it mean giving more money to the General Fund? Volunteering to clean the church? Stepping up to serve in the nursery? Getting out of our proverbial comfort zone and helping with Grace Quest? I think so.

But there’s gotta be even more, don’t you think?

Could it mean eating some crow and asking for forgiveness from that someone you’ve harmed? Or letting your own guard down and extending forgiveness to that someone who’s harmed you? Probably.

And might it lead to bigger things?

Could it mean sponsoring a child in Fondwa, Haiti, for $300 a year?

Or signing up for a mission trip next time we travel there?

Could it mean opening our borders to immigrants for Mexico? Or could it mean opening our homes to refugees from Syria? (That makes Grace Quest and the General Fund seem like small potatoes, doesn’t it?)

Is there something you’ve thought of doing – that you’ve felt the nudge to consider – large or small or somewhere in between – but that you never move in the direction of accomplishing because your fear or doubt or lack of courage and faith won’t let you pursue it? I have. (I’m pretty sure it’s happening in me as I stand before you now!)

I think our fear and our doubt and our lack of courage get the best of us, just like they did for Peter in this morning’s Gospel, when we set our hearts and our minds on earthly things, instead of heavenly things, and the power of God.

I think it’s because, just like Peter, we only hear the earthly stuff , too much of the time, when it comes to Jesus’ call to discipleship. We hear “deny ourselves.” We hear “take up a cross.” We hear “rejection and suffering and struggle and death.” And all of that gets the best of us and we stop, in our tracks, frozen with fear and doubt and uncertainty. Because, just like Peter, we miss the promise of heavenly things and the power of God that Jesus promises along with the rest: because after all of that rejection and suffering and death and whatnot, comes resurrection, does it not?

Because vulnerability leads to power in the hands of God. Sacrifice leads to abundance.  The cross leads to an empty tomb, by God’s grace. Death leads to new life, when Jesus gets hold of it.

So let’s imagine and dream about and keep our minds set on heavenly things. Let’s do the hard, holy work of denying our selves – our fears, our doubts and all the rest. Let’s take up a cross – even if it hurts, even if it causes us to struggle, because it causes us to struggle and sacrifice, even. And let’s follow Jesus in brave, vulnerable, kind and gracious ways, expecting God to change us and to transform the world as we know it, into the Kingdom of God, which has been the plan all along.

Amen