August 31, 2008

Scripture:         Matthew 16:21-28

Sermon:           “Cross Carrying 101”

            Last week we studied together that well-known passage in Matthew’s gospel where Peter declared to Jesus, “You are the Messiah, the Son of the living God”.  And that was saying something, you know.  Peter was on to something.  There were a lot of folks that people were looking to for deliverance.  A lot of folks seeming to represent some version of God acting in the world.  And, really, there were a lot of folks making guesses about who this Jesus was.  Peter got it.

            And that was an impressive answer.  “Blessed are you, Peter!”  That’s what Jesus said.  And he essentially began his handover of mission and ministry to the folks who would follow him.  He named that faulty, passionate fisherman, Peter, named him the rock that the church would be built upon.

            So, we get to today’s scripture, which is just on the heels of that one, and suddenly Peter has gone from the blessed to the cursed.  It’s here that Jesus says, “Get behind me, Satan!”  And he said it to that same fisherman, Peter.

            You know what that’s like, I’m sure.  Spiritually you go from moments of complete clarity and vision and purpose, you go from there to moments of utter failure to understand.  You have incredible insight at church on Sunday morning and by the afternoon you’ve gone and betrayed the very faith you just renewed.

            Turn with me to Matthew’s gospel.  In chapter 16 let’s read together verses 21 through 28.  That’s on page 24 of the New Testament in the pew Bible.

            Now, let’s give Peter a little bit of a break, shall we?  He’s gone and given up a great deal more than most of us can ever claim.  There’s a lot at stake for him.  What is it he said?  Over in Matthew 19, he said to Jesus, “Look, we’ve left everything and followed you.”  So, in our passage here when Jesus starts talking about dreadful things ahead, talking about being killed and such, Peter’s dealing with some very personal concerns.  He’s left everything.  I think we should cut him a little slack.

            Read it with me.  The Word of the Lord…

            From that time on, Jesus began to show his disciples that he must go to Jerusalem and undergo great suffering at the hands of the elders and chief priests and scribes, and be killed, and on the third day be raised.  And Peter took him aside and began to rebuke him, saying, “God forbid it, Lord!  This must never happen to you.”  But he turned and said to Peter, “Get behind me, Satan!  You are a stumbling block to me; for you are setting your mind not on divine things but on human things.”

            Then Jesus told his disciples, “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 will find it.  For what will it profit them if they gain the whole world but forfeit their life?  Or what will they give in return for their life?

            “For the Son of Man is to come with his angels in the glory of his Father, and then he will repay everyone for what has been done.  Truly I tell you, there are some standing here who will not taste death before they see the Son of Man coming in his kingdom.”

            Let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me.

            Well?  What’s that all about?  All of us know how this story ends down in Jerusalem.  It ends with that man executed in a most brutal way.  Hanging on what?  A cross.  Bleeding.  Crying out.  Stuck there between a couple of thieves.  Humiliated.  Dead.

            I mean, isn’t that the role of a Savior?  Take up the cross on my behalf.  You know?  Isn’t that Jesus’ role in this thing?  We’re supposed to follow?  What kind of invitation is that?  And who’s going to sign up for it?

            Have you ever seen somebody carrying a cross around?  Ever seen somebody hanging up there?  Dying?  Well, I have.  It’s not so inviting.

            It was a few years ago.  Almost seven now.  Dark day.  The sun was shining.  But, it was a dark day.  The day when these men took over these big planes and flew them into the sides of buildings.  Right there in New York City.  While folks were finishing up their morning bagels and coffee and whatnot, settling in for a day at the office, and the sun just seemed to quit shining.  September 11, 2001.

            I can’t get my head around this.  Folks were running away in every direction.  Fire.  Smoke.  Debris.  Panic.  And there were people trapped way up in those buildings.  Trapped above the floors where those planes crashed.  Trapped.  Suffering.  Dying.  And everybody was running away.

            Everybody but these ordinary Joes.  You know these guys started driving and running towards the whole thing.  Firefighters.  Police officers.  Fathers and mothers some of them.  Sons and daughters.  The fellow next door.  They were running towards this thing because there were people dying in there.  And by the dozens they died trying to get some more folks out of that place.

            Somebody sang a song about them.  Like a widowed wife crying, this song cried.  I need your kiss.  But, love and duty called you some place higher.  Somewhere up the stairs.  Into the fire.  Y’all are going to get tired of hearing me go on about Bruce Springsteen some day.  This song, though.  Have you heard it?  May your strength give us strength.  May your faith give us faith.  May your hope give us hope.  May your love bring us love.

            So, I’ve seen folks hanging on a cross before.  It’s something.

            And three years ago this awful storm came hurling itself into the shores of the Gulf coast.  Katrina.  Mean storm.  Took all that water from the ocean and just pushed it into Mississippi.  Pushed it into Lake Pontchartrain.  Pushed all that dirty sea water in those places so that they just disappeared.  And the water broke through the levees and put the city of New Orleans under.

            And, oh, there were folks stuck in their attics.  Can you imagine?  Some folks, you know, they took their little motor boats around for days looking for them.  Strangers.  And they’d pluck them out of the water and off of rooftops by helicopter.  Complete strangers, most of them.  And sometimes they’d rescue dogs and cats.

            Now, these folks were hanging on crosses, too.  They put aside their own lives, their own concerns.  And they just went and did whatever had to be done.  People were suffering.  Dying.  And they couldn’t stand to sit by and do nothing.  They climbed up on a cross of sorts.  It’s something.

            But, what does that mean for folks who live much more mundane lives most of the time?  You give us a disaster, and I wouldn’t be the least bit surprised to see folks here doing those very things.  But, what does that mean to carry a cross for you and me?  Here?  Today?

            I’ll bet you’d be surprised at the folks hanging on crosses, actually.  You might not know it.  But, they’re up there.  They’re up there, alright.

            I went out for lunch just the other day.  Just a couple of blocks away.  Sometimes I eat in my car, and read the paper for a while.  And right over there I pulled my car up into a parking space outside the Subway.  Now, I can’t exactly brag about what I’m driving, but it sure was a Cadillac compared to the heap I pulled up next to.

            We used to call cars like this an Oldsmobuick.  Just some nondescript clunker.  Actually, I remember this was a Chevy Lumina.  An old Chevy Lumina.  It had duct tape holding the tail light together.  And whatever happened at one time required its owner to replace one of the rear doors so that the car itself was red.  But, this one door was kind of blue.  It had a bumper sticker on the back that just kind of captured the reality of the whole thing.  It said, “My Treasure Is In Heaven”.

            And while I was reading the paper, eating my sandwich, I overheard the conversation between my car and this other one.  Did you know cars could talk?  Oh, yeah.  They’ll tell you quite a bit if you listen.  And my car said, “Look at you, there.  What a mess.  Doesn’t anybody care for you?”

            “Oh, yeah.  She cares for me.  We’ve been together for years.  She loves me.”

            “She loves you?  Are you kidding me?  How can you say that?”

            And that old beater said, “No.  She loves me.  I’m sure of that.”

            “Doesn’t look like it to me.”

            “Well, you’ve never heard her begging me to make it one more mile.  One more week.  One more month.  And I just keep plugging along for her.  I can’t let her down.”

            And my car said, “Sir, you could just retire.  Go to one of those lots where they just let you sit around, turn brown soaking in the sun.”

            “Someday.  Someday.  But, today we’re going to the store.  We’ve got to pick up supplies for the new school year.  Those kids need an education.  And I’ve got to get to the store.  And I’ve got to get to the school.  She’s got to teach those kids.  If I don’t do that, and if she doesn’t do that, who’s going to teach them?  How are they going to get out of the projects?  How are their lives going to get better?”

            My car didn’t have much to say after that.  She knew a pastor made more money than a school teacher.

            And that teacher’s chosen a cross for her life.  Looks like an old Chevy Lumina to me.  But, it’s a cross.

            I think that’s what Jesus means.  There’s something about somebody’s life that worth giving away for the sake of others who need it.

            Truth is that you’ve got a cross to carry.  You’ve got a cross to carry if you’re going to make such a claim as following Jesus.  You’ve got a cross.  What does it look like?  How do you know it’s your cross?

            You know that there’s a cross with your name written on it when you find yourself standing in the place right in between the way that the world is and the way that the world should be.  You know that cross has your name on it.  It’s when you find welling up inside of you some kind of passion, maybe even righteous anger at a situation, and you can decide that if you don’t do something that only you can do that nothing at all is going to be done.  And you’ll have to take a risk of something to make it happen.  That’s when your cross is placed before you.

            It won’t say “King of the Jews”.  It’ll say, “Dependable Neighbor.”  It’ll say, “Here is the Woman with a Conscience.”  It’ll say, “Broke, But Happy.”  It’ll have your name emblazoned upon it somehow, I know.

            Frederick Buechner, a Presbyterian pastor, puts it this way…You know your cross when you discover “where your deepest gladness and the world’s deep need meet”.

            The problem for us is that we just can’t imagine there’s any such thing as gladness is carrying a cross, making a sacrifice.  Too many voices telling us otherwise.  Too many voices saying it’s not worth it.  There’s somebody else for this calling.  It’s just always going to be that way.  I’ve got to give up too much to make this thing happen.

            And, maybe those are the moments.  Maybe those are the moments when we see our own personal cross, weigh all of the pros and cons of committing to it, committing to Christ, committing to the world, and we, too, have to say, “Get behind me, Satan!  Those are not divine thoughts”.

            I mean, Jesus went on to say that we’re only going to find our lives by losing our lives.  All of that trying to save our lives is just killing us and killing the world as it should be.  Do you think it’s true?  Is the path to true happiness along the road to great sacrifice on behalf of others who need what only we have to give?

            You want to follow this man.  He’s headed towards a cross, you know.  Where do you think you’re headed, too?

Rev. David James Brown

Park Christian Church (Disciples of Christ)