Remembering the Past...
        Planning the Future

    Park Christian Church
                                                                    (Disciples of Christ)

September 13, 2009

Scripture:         Mark 8:27-38

Sermon:           “The Way Back Home”

            Let us now turn together to the word of God and hear a part of the old, old story.  Shall we?  Turn with me to the eighth chapter of Mark’s gospel where we’ll read verses 27 through 38.  You can find that easily on page   of the New Testament in the pew Bible.

            Jesus and his disciples have been out on the road.  And that’s kind of important for us this morning.  It’s homecoming here.  And we’ve invited as many people as we can think of to come and get together, all of us at one time.  And that reminds me:  we’ve got plans to eat a great meal together.  And I do hope you’re planning to stay for a bit.  But, today there are folks who haven’t been here in a while, perhaps.  And folks who have missed one another.  Folks who may have moved away, or moved to another congregation.  And then, there might be some of you who’ve never set foot in this place, don’t know a soul here, and just happened to choose this place on this day.

            As we’ll read together, Jesus is leading folks through a place called Caesarea Philippi.  And that means that they are just starting to get into the outskirts of familiar territory.  It’s something like seeing a “Welcome to Indiana” sign on the side of the highway near Evansville after you’ve been traveling for days out to the west.  You’re not quite home, but it’s getting familiar.  And you’re on your way home.

            This story happens on the way back home.  And maybe that will have some connections to each of us in some way or another.  We’re here for homecoming.  We’re looking for some kind of home.  Physically.  Spiritually.

            Wherever you are on the road, this is the word of God…

            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 live 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 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.”

            Jesus never quite lets anybody put a finger on him, does he?

            Do you know what I mean?  You love him.  Love him to death.  You count your blessings for God’s amazing grace, and then he says one of those things that wasn’t at all what you were expecting.

            “My burden is light and my yoke is easy.”  That’s the kind of Jesus we like.  “The good shepherd?  He’s the one that goes off into the wilderness, tromping through the mud and briars and thickets and such just to go and get that poor little fellow who’s wandered off from the flock.”  He says things like that and you and I are pushing Peter aside in order to be the first one to say, “You’re the Messiah!  You’re the Christ!  You’re the Son of the Living God!”

            And you think you’ve got him figured out.  And that’d be nice to have Jesus figured out.  But, you can’t ever own him for yourself.  And he turns right around and reminds you that this Messiah business, this saving the world, well, it’s not all fun and games.  It’s not all one feel-good story.  There’s a cross up ahead in the distance and it’s got Jesus’ name scrawled along the top of it.  There’s going to be pain and suffering, you see.

            That’s about what Peter was going through out there on the way back home.  He’s seen enough at this point to understand that he’s following God’s own Spirit in the flesh, Jesus of Nazareth.

            “Some folks say that you’re nothing more than John the Baptist.”  That’s what the disciples reported.  “Who do people say that I am?”  It’s the question that prompted all of that.  “Some of ‘em say you’re Elijah, one of the prophets, maybe.  That’s what I’ve heard.”

            “Well, you’re the ones following me.  Who do you say that I am?”

            Blind folks had received their sight.  Seriously ill people had been cured.  Powerful words had been spoken.  Peter had seen enough.  And he spoke up rather proudly.  He was in the company of God Most High.  “You are the Messiah.”

            And Jesus didn’t deny it.  Just said to keep it under his hat for a while.

            Do you remember a moment like that?  A moment when something so real, so powerful just washed over you about this man that you grabbed hold like never before?  It’s the feeling of being home.  Where you belong.  “You are the Messiah, and I am at home with you.”

            St. Augustine, who lived long before any of us, he said, “my heart is restless until it rests in you, Lord.”  And that’s the kind of thing I’m saying.  We get those moments every now and again when all of the restlessness seems to vanish and our presence with God is palpable.  And St. Augustine knew a thing or two about restlessness.  Before anyone imagined attaching the word “saint” to his name, this guy tried every vice and temptation under the sun in a search for peace.  You think you’ve traveled a crooked mile in your life?  Read St. Augustine’s Confessions some time.  But, there was a day when it all clicked for him.  And he knew that everything was at peace with him and God.

            I’ve had a few of those moments over the years.  A few.  There’s never enough of them.  But, I’ve had a few.  Have you?  Seems like we get them every so often and spend so much of the rest of our time trying to get them back, doesn’t it?

            My daughter was born into this world a couple of years ago.  It is easily the most powerful moment of my life.  I was standing next to my wife as she was laying there on the operating table.  Everyone in the room was decked out in white coats and gloves and face masks and such.  The doctor said, “Dad, do you want to see your daughter?”  And I peered over the sheet that they’d put up to block Julie’s view of the whole process.

            Oh, I’ll never forget it.  The doctor was just pulling that little body into the first light for the first time.  And I swear that I was standing next to God as the heavens and earth themselves were being crafted from that old formless void.  I was witness to creation.  And I can’t be certain, but it seemed like there were choirs of angels whispering alleluias as this beautiful little creature drew in her first breath and belted out a cry to shake the mountains.  I’ve never been so sure of my place in the world as that very instant.

            And I’ll tell you, that little girl is still capable of cries like that.  I’d like to remember the certainty and serenity of her birth some nights at about 3 o’clock when the only response to her cries are words that aren’t quite fit for Sunday School, I’ll tell you.

            You witness the graces of God like that, too.  Just like Peter did.  He saw with his own eyes what Jesus would do out of deep love for people.  “You are the Messiah.  At this moment, I am sure of it.  And I am at peace.”

            But, Jesus just won’t let us own him like that.  He says, “Yes.  But…”

            Yes.  But…

            And we are all reminded repeatedly, probably with more frequency than we’d prefer, that God’s graces are only as wonderful as they are because they not what our lives usually look like.  Jesus said, “Yes, Peter.  But…you know that folks are going to put me through great suffering.  They’ll reject me.  And they’ll have me killed.  I’ll rise again on the third day.  But…”

            And that’s not what we want to hear.  We’d prefer to stay in these moments of grace and beauty.  Wouldn’t we?  If it was at all up to us, we’d take the healings, we’d take the forgiveness, we’d take the peace of knowing that God is here with us, always, and leave it at that.  Instead, we keep finding ourselves feeling distant from those moments.  We know we’ve been forgiven, and we go out and do it again.  We clearly experience God at one moment, and then wonder what in the world just happened because we’re watching someone we love die a long, and painful death.  You know?  We spend the most rewarding day of our life pounding nails into a home for Habitat for Humanity, cooking a meal for the homeless shelter, or giving blood.  And then we’re overwhelmed by the fact that there are people who need an affordable home for their family, and there are people who live in shelters, and there are people who need blood transfusions.  We turn on the evening news and find mostly stories of wicked things.

            Jesus said, “I’m going to be crucified, you know.”

            So, yeah, Peter didn’t want to hear that.  None of us ever do.  We’d like to stay in the moments of bliss.

            Turns out, however, that it’s not really about what we want.  So, Jesus shot back at Peter, “Get behind me Satan!”  That’s as low down as you’ll find coming from Jesus.  Called a woman a dog one time, and that was pretty low.  Called Peter nothing less than Satan, so you know Jesus was not impressed in the least.  It’s not about what we want.  It’s about what God wants.

            And then he said one of those things that you might wish he hadn’t.  No more good shepherd talk.  No more easy burden and giving you rest.  No.  You’ve got to carry your own cross.  That’s what God wants.  It’s not enough to receive God’s grace.  It’s not enough to have peaceful moments.  It’s not enough to feel good about yourself.  You’re being called to commit to something that will cost you everything.

            He says things we don’t like to hear.  We can’t own him.  And he says things we don’t care for all the time.  Turn the other cheek.  Don’t just give somebody a shirt, give her your coat as well.  It’s tough for rich folks to inherit the kingdom of heaven.  Love your enemies and pray for them.  All kinds of stuff we don’t do too well with.  Stuff that we’re not at home with.  If your right eye causes you to sin, pluck it out.  Carry your own cross.

            He won’t let us own him.  Maybe he’s doing his best just to own us.  Do you think?

            Here is the image that I want to leave you with.  Peter and the disciples were on the way back home.  And nothing made more sense at that moment than Jesus.  Being with him was the most at home Peter had ever experience.  His heart was no longer restless.  “You are the Messiah,” he proclaimed.

            He was home.  With Jesus, Peter was already home.  No matter where he came from or where he actually was at the moment, Peter was already home with Jesus.

            But, it turns out that our true home is defined by God.  And home is a place that is so full of grace that it is the place where God loves us enough to challenge us.  And in that challenge to commit completely, losing our lives for the sake of something called good news, we might actually discover that our most satisfying home is the road to the cross.

Rev. David James Brown

Park Christian Church (Disciples of Christ)