From a Rocky Hillside

Jeff Garrison
Bluemont and Mayberry Churches
October 18, 2020
Matthew 22:1-14

Introduction at the beginning of worship:

          Our text for today’s service is about an invitation to a wedding banquet. Even though this is an allegorical wedding feast, the gospels are full of parties which should remind us that God wants us to have a good time in life. This parable shows that God wants to invite everyone, the more the merrier, as the passage foretells the church’s role in reaching out to the Gentiles.[1] But there’s also a warning. When we respond to the invitation, we should prepare ourselves to be in the presence of the King of Kings. Today, think about how you will prepare yourself for such an invitation.

After the Scripture Reading:

Anxiety dreams, those where we find ourselves somewhere unprepared, are common.

I my case, it’s Sunday morning. I’m not ready to preach. I don’t even realize it’s Sunday. I wake up and leisurely go about my business, wearing shorts and a sweatshirt, causally drinking coffee when panic strikes. It’s ten minutes before church. I haven’t written a sermon. I scramble to get dress as I make a note or two about what I can say from the pulpit, then jump into the car and race to church. I pull in just in time only to realize, as I open the car door that I forgot something, like my pants. It’s at that point I wake up sweating and realize it’s not Sunday. Or if it is, it’s 4 AM and I’ve already written my sermon.

There are variations to this dream. Sometimes I lost my sermon, or I thought someone else was preaching so I hadn’t prepared or, maybe instead of no pants, I’m wearing jeans with holes in the knees.

A psychologist might interpret such dreams as an indication of some buried fear of inadequacy, which is a fear of which many people suffer. We go around life trying to look good, to hide our flaws, and afraid that if other people see who we really are, they’ll not like us. As adults, we dream about being unprepared on the job. When we were younger, it might have been being unprepared for a test at school.

A similar dream is based on the fear being socially stigmatized, such as not being invited to a party. This is not a new fear. People feared being embarrassed even in Jesus’ day, which is why Jesus tells us in Luke’s gospel that if we’re invited at a party, we should sit in the back. If we sit up front, we might be embarrassed when a more honored guest claims our seat.[2]

One might also dream about being at a party unprepared. You wear a tux when it’s a costume party or you come dressed in jeans and everyone else is wearing a tux. Or perhaps you bring a gag gift not realizing it’s a wedding shower. Get the picture?

We can all image, I expect, the nightmare of the guest who came to the banquet in our text without a wedding robe. When the King, who represents God, asks where’s his robe, the guy’s speechless. He has no defense and knows it. This is no ordinary party; he’s not just booted out on the sidewalk but assigned to a horrific eternal fate.

The message of the parable is harsh but clear. We’re all invited to a banquet. God graciously extends the invitation, but we must come prepared to be in the presence of the King. 

Dirty torn clothes won’t cut it. That’s a joke. Our preparation has nothing to do with clothes. This parable is an allegory. It’s not about an actually wedding banquet, although weddings are a common image in scripture for the fulfillment of the kingdom. Read the ending of the book of Revelation. History concludes with a wedding, uniting a renewed heaven and earth.[3]

The robe represents something other than actual clothes. The prophet Isaiah sings a song of deliverance proclaiming what God has done. Isaiah provides us with another insight into the meaning of such clothing. Listen to this verse:

My soul shall be joyful in my God;

For He has clothed me with the garments of salvation

He has covered me with the robe of righteousness

As a bridegroom decks himself in ornaments,

And as a bride adorns herself with jewels.[4]

          Catch that? The robe represents righteousness. The parable points out the need for us not only to attend the wedding banquet, but for us to respond with a changed life. To honor the king who invites us to the banquet, we clothed ourselves, or more correctly we allow the King’s son, Jesus Christ, to clothed, us with a robe of righteousness.[5]

          This passage supports the ethical tradition of the Reformed faith.[6] We, who are unworthy, are called by God through Jesus Christ, to come to the banquet, to establish our relationship with our Creator, a relationship that we have broken by sin. Yet, despite that, God graciously calls us when he could just as easily abandon us. God lovingly calls us, sending his Son, so that we not only hear the call but will respond with grateful hearts of thanksgiving.

Our lives as Christians should be balanced between the justification God freely grants and our response. God’s love drives us to sanctify ourselves, to strive for godliness.

The unfortunate man without a robe represents one who hears God’s call—for he came to the banquet—but who didn’t prepare himself to be in the presence of the King.  

          Jesus ends the parable with a proverb: “Many are called but few are chosen.” Jesus often has a way to throw in a curve at the end of his stories. We’re left scratching our head and having to live in faith.

This proverb is problematic and could, if not understood in context, drive us to despair. It also doesn’t seem to go to with the parable, which only speaks of one not being chosen at the banquet. That poor dude doesn’t make a multitude. Instead, he seems to be a clueless guest who made a major faux pas for which we are left to wonder why he’s not forgiven. His blunder and this closing parable evoke a certain amount of terror. If this guy can screw up, then what is going to keep you and me from making a mistake?

          “It’s a fearful thing to fall into the hands of the living God,” asserts the author of Hebrews.[7] But what choice do we have? When Jesus asked the disciples if they, like the masses, want to abandon him, they responded, “Where can we go? Only you have the words of eternal life.”[8]

We have no choice but to live within the tension of the parable. The king is inviting us to the banquet. God is graciously calling us to his kingdom. That by itself should make us thankful and open to responding. But we’re left with the question, how should we get ready?[9]

          We should understand that salvation is not just forgiveness. It’s also about renewal. To put this into theological terms, we’re justified and sanctified.[10] That latter step, the sanctification part, requires action on our behalf.

This is the tension that exists between grace and the law—between what God does for us and that which we do in response to God’s love. We can’t do without either one, grace or law. However, we often over-emphasize one or the other. Instead, we’re to respond to God’s grace by striving to live by his law.

The intention of this parable isn’t to drive us to despair as we worry if we’re appropriately dressed, but to encourage us to be ready and to give our best to a God who invites us to the banquet. We’re summoned before God. The king has invited us; we need to respond in faith by striving to live godly lives.

          You know, those dreams in which we  wake up in sweat, worried about not being prepared? They probably help us be better prepared (like a Boy Scout, “Be Prepared”).

Likewise, this passage which not only has good news, but a terrible warning is a reminder of us to be ready. Yes, God wants us to enjoy the festivities, but we also have responsibilities and obligations. We’re to be God’s light in the world.[11]

Think about Jesus’ life, he enjoyed many dinner parties. And now we’re being called to the party that will top all parties. But first, as my mom used to say before calling us to dinner, “Wash up!” Amen.

©2020 Jeff Garrison

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[1] Douglas R. A. Hare, Matthew: Interpretation Commentary for Teaching and Preaching (Louisville: John Knox Press, 1993), 244-251.

[2] Luke 14:7-11.

[3] Revelation 21:2.,

[4] Isaiah 61:10, NKJV.

[5] Matthew’s idea of a wedding garment is an active attempt for us to live by the law (as compared to Paul’s idea that righteousness being imputed and based on our faith).  Martin Luther suggests the wedding garment could also mean faith and many who come to the banquet (Judgement day) will lack faith. John Calvin (along with Augustine), suggested that there was no need to debate whether the garments are faith or righteous works as the two can’t be separated. There was also a rabbinical parable from this era in which the wedding garments were seen as “charity,” which implies a more active role in our preparations. See Frederick Dale Bruner, The Churchbook: Matthew 13-28 (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2004), 390.

[6] The Reformed faith (or tradition) refers to the theology of the Presbyterian Church. Presbyterians are not the only ones who are “Reformed.” Presbyterians, historically, came from Scotland and Ireland. The “Reformed Churches” (our cousins) mostly came from the European continent. Others also may hold to a Reformed faith, including some Baptists and Anglican/Episcopal. The Reformed Faith draws from the teachings of Swiss Reformers (Zwingli, Calvin, Bullinger, etc), and places a strong emphasis on the sovereignty of God, the reality of sin, and our need for a Savior. 

[7] Hebrews 10:31.

[8] John 6:68.

[9] See Barbara Brown Taylor, “Tales of Terror, Times of Wonder,” The Other Side (March-April 2000).

[10] John H. Leith, Introduction to the Reformed Tradition (Atlanta: John Knox Press, 1981), 79.

[11] Matthew 5:14.

Jeff Garrison
Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
September 6, 2020
Matthew 18:15-20

Click this link to watch the service which begins at the 6 minutes into the table. The sermon starts at 18:20 minutes into the service. 

Also, it seems I wasn’t the only one to come down hard on gossip this week. Even the Pope joined the chorus in his Sunday address. Click here for the AP article.

At the Beginning of Worship:

             Technology has brought a lot of changes to our world, good and bad. On the positive side, it allows us to continue holding worship services during a pandemic, something that wasn’t available during the 1918 pandemic. But it also means everything is now more public, out in the open. Even things we might have hoped to do privately gets posted across social media for the world to see.

The downside of technology includes social media being filled with folks ready to attack anyone who might not agree with them. We’ve always had such people, but they used to easy to avoid. It’s amazing how people will attack others publicly, be it their food choices, their politics, or their use of grammar. Those who engaged in this manner think they’re doing something righteous when they blast an opponent. They think they look good and have power.

But is this how a Christian should act? Not according to the Scripture text we’re examining today. In fact, even when someone else is in the wrong, we need to go the extra mile to protect their identity, to show love, and to act with humility.

 

After the Scripture:

             I always admire those folks who can take bucket of rust and, with hard work, restore the car to where it looks like it just rolled off the assembly lane. It takes time, patience, expertise, and a willingness to get one’s hands dirty. But what beauty can come out of such efforts.

Today’s sermon is about restoration. Not of cars, but of people. As Christians, we are not only to be about making ourselves betters, but also others.

Our passage from the 18^th Chapter of Matthew speaks of correcting the sins of our brothers and sisters in the faith. Let me warn you, this is an easy passage to abuse. If we’re to be correcting sin, we need to first remember we’re all sinners. Second, we are dishonest if we only correct those sins we find most grievous or only the sins committed by those we dislike, while ignoring the sins of those we like. Remember, Jesus said something about us getting the log out our eyes before removing a speck from someone else’s.[1]

            Pointing out the sins of others is something few of us want to do. That’s probably good. In the book The Peacemaker, which is mostly based on this passage, Ken Sande suggests those eager to go out and correct others are probably not the ones needing to perform such tasks.[2] The person who sets out to correct another needs to be humble and desiring both to restore the other person back into a relationship with Christ as well as to keep the publicity down. We’re not to try to make ourselves look better while making others look bad. That’s not Christ-like.

Like restoring an automobile, restoring relationships is hard work. It requires wisdom, love, gratitude, and humility. Without such gifts, one is liable to make a mess of things, just as having the wrong tools could ruin a car’s restoration. Without humility, we can make a mess of a relationship.

Now look at this passage. It starts with a difficult verse. Verse 15 is generally translated “if your brother sins against you…” The New Revised Standard Version translates it more to the intent of the original when it says if “another member of the church sins against you.” Matthew uses the word brother to imply all who are a part of the Christian fellowship, not just siblings or just men. The question that arises is whether we have the right to go correct others in sin.

If you take this passage as translated, the text implies that you go talk only to those who sin against you. Yet, almost all translations will have a footnote here, informing us that many of the older text omit the “against you.”[3] In such cases, it sounds as if we have a license to go correcting anyone who is in violation of God’s law. Since we’re all sinful at one point or another, the field is ripe for a harvest.

I’m going to do something maybe a little unorthodox and take both positions. If your brother or sister in the faith does something wrong against you, you are supposed to go to him or her. In other words, the harmed or the innocence party is supposed to make the effort to reconcile. Image that! My tendency, and this is probably true for most of us, is to avoid people who harm me, but that’s not what we’re being told here. And the object of the visit is not to beat up the offending party, but to restore them. We can also look at this verse from the angle of church discipline. Taking this verse to read: “If your brother does something wrong, go and have it out with him alone,” as the New Jerusalem Bible translates it, we’re told to confront those whose sins are so bad that they are harming the church of giving God a black eye.

Regardless of whether you think this passage applies only to sins committed personally against you as an individual or to sins in general, we’re not given a license to become intolerant moral police officers. Look at the context of this teaching. Right before here, in verses 10-14, Jesus gives the Parable of the Lost Sheep. The focus there, as in this passage, isn’t confrontation. It’s reconciliation, bringing the lost back into the fold. Then he follows this passage with the Parable of the Unforgiving Servant. Remember that passage is about judgment upon those who act harshly and are judgmental toward others. Having these two passages as bookends reminds us that Jesus is primarily interested in restoration of the sinner and that if we’re involved in bringing about such restoration, we’re to be humble and gracious.

We need to ask ourselves if the offense is great enough to risk ruining a relationship. Sometimes, having a little thicker skin will do wonders and further the peace.

If, however, the situation requires action, we’re to go to the other person and confront them face to face; we’re not to be talking about it to others, starting up the gossip mill. Today, thanks to social media, starting a rumor is easier than ever. But before we announce to the world the wrong someone has done, we’re to go talk to them. We’re to listen to what they say, for they may have a different interpretation or understanding.

Listening is important. We might have missed understood. Furthermore, if Jesus were teaching today, I think he’d insist that we listen and gather the facts before we march off into a crusade. As for social media, he would probably suggest that before we share something online, we make sure what we say is supported by facts and are not just emotional responses that demonstrate our own confirmation bias.[4]

After having confronted the person face to face, if they are not willing to work things out or if they are going to continue sinful activities, we’re still not to start gossiping. We’re to maintain confidentiality as we attempt to come to an understanding with two or three others, who are trusted and will also keep confidentiality. In Sande’s book, he recommends that if we’re in a conflict with someone else, we tell them at the end of that first meeting that we’re going to seek the council of others—for if they know they’re in the wrong they may be willing to go ahead and work things out with us.

These two or three witnesses serve two functions.  First, they are observers. Judgment in Scripture always required two witnesses.[5] In this case, they are there to make sure that things are fair. They might listen and think we’re the one that is in the wrong and, in that case, we have to be willing to accept their advice.

After this second visit, if we still don’t resolve the problem, then we can take our complaint back to the church. In keeping with the process, this doesn’t mean that we stand up during joys and concerns and broadcast the complaint to everyone. Instead, we take it to the leadership, to those in charge, and let them be the judge. Only after this intervention fails, does the church have a right to exclude the offending party from the community of faith. Matthew says that then they’ll be like “pagans and tax collectors.”

What are our responsible toward correcting a member of the community who sins, remembering that we all sin? This was debated heatedly during the Reformation. John Calvin, one of the founders of our branch of Christendom, supported Church discipline for three reasons.[6] First, was to honor God. The church should act against those who are in open revolt against God. But Calvin did not suggest we start inquisitions. He never argued for a “pure church” because he believed that was impossible. Church discipline was taken only against those who openly refused to stop and repent of their blasphemous activities. The second aim was to keep the good within the church from being corrupted, and the third aim was to bring the guilty party into repentance.[7] Discipline was always carried out in hopes of restoring the contrite into the fellowship of the church. In other words, discipline was done pastorally out of concern for the accused soul.

When we take these verses out of their setting, they sound harsh. After all, Christ gives those of us in the community the power to banish someone from our midst.[8] He even tells us that decisions we make here have eternal ramifications. But our purpose isn’t to be the enforcer; instead our goal is to restore the sinner. And if we’re going to be convincing, we got to remember that we’re all sinners, which means we better be humble in any endeavor we undertake.[9] We don’t try to correct others as a way to prove our rightness, but out of love and concern. Like restoring a car, it’s hard work. Amen.

©2020

[1] Matthew 7:5.

[2] Ken Sande, The Peacemaker: A Biblical Guide to Resolving Personal Conflict (Grand Rapids: Baker Books, 2004).

[3] There is debate over the inclusion of this phrase.  See Bruce Metzger, A Textual Commentary on the Greek New Testament (United Bible Society, 1985), 45 and Douglas R. A. Hare, Matthew: Interpretation (Louisville: John Knox Press, 1992), 213.  Robert Gundry argues for its inclusion in Matthew: A Commentary on his Literary and Theological Art (Grand Rapids: Eerdman, 1982), 367; while Frederick Dale Bruner omits the phrase.  See The Churchbook: Matthew 13-28 (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2004), 225.

[4] Confirmation bias is agreeing with something because it “fits” our world view without verification. In other words, we decide something is right because it fits our existing beliefs.

[5] Deuteronomy 19:15.

[6] Although Calvin supported and participated in church discipline, unlike some Reformers such as John Knox, Calvin did not see discipline as one of the marks of a “true church.”  To him the marks of a true church was the proclamation of the gospel and the rightful administration of the sacraments.  For a discussion of Calvin and discipline, see Charles Partee, The Theology of John Calvin (Louisville: W/JKP, 2008), 270-271.

[7] The three purposes of discipline of John Calvin are in his Institutes of the Christian Religion, IV.12.5..

[8] While this is seen in this passage (Matthew 18:18), it also appears in Matthew 16:19.

[9] Heimlich Bullinger, another reformer and author of the Second Helvetic Confession tempers his talk on discipline with a reminder that Jesus said not to pull the weeds up because you risk pulling up the wheat.  See Presbyterian Church (USA), Book of Confession. 5:165.

Jeff Garrison
Skidaway Island Presbyterian Church
August 30, 2020
Matthew 16:21-26

Click here to watch the service. The sermon begins at 18 minutes if you want to fast-forward. 

Beginning of Worship:  I saw a meme the other day. A man at a bar ordered a Corona and two hurricanes. “That’d be 20.20,” the bartender said. It’s not been a good year so far. It seems like we’ve all been carrying a cross over the past eight months. But is this what Jesus means when he says we are to pick up our cross and follow him?

The cross is a symbol we see everywhere. We have several in our sanctuary. We wear it as jewelry. It populates cemeteries and are often placed beside the road where there has been a fatal accident. But what does it means when Jesus tells us to pick up the cross? That’s today’s topic.

This is our second Sunday in the 16^th Chapter of Matthew. If you remember, last week, Peter nails it. He confesses Jesus to be the Messiah. Today, he doesn’t look so good. He can’t accept Jesus’ plan involving the cross. Last week, Peter was praised. This week, he’s called Satan. There’s good news here because our lives are similar. We can do good and great things and we can do rotten things. Aren’t you glad there’s grace?

Jesus does something radical and he invites us to follow him, but it’s a costly invitation. Jesus demands our very lives. For those of us who follow Jesus, the cross becomes our sign of God’s power as Paul eloquently states in First Corinthians, but to others it’s foolishness.[1] But as a sign, the cross is not easily understood.

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After the Scripture Reading: What does it mean to pick up our cross and follow Jesus? Maybe a better way to ask this question is what does it mean to be a follower of Jesus Christ?  We have to be careful that we don’t cheapen the bearing of our cross in an attempt to explain our trials. Carrying the cross isn’t just enduring a bad time, like 2020. Picking up our cross and following Christ has life changing implications. We admit we’re not in control. It’s no longer about us and what we want and what we think we need. Instead, it’s all about the man up ahead, the one we are following.

Think about the theology of the cross in light of two seeming contradictions in scripture: Jesus’ call for us to pick up our cross and proclaims that he’s come to set us free.[2]

In Jesus’ day, no one thought of the cross as a sign of freedom.  In fact, a cross was viewed in just the opposite. It was a sign of torture, a reminder of the imperial power of Rome that subjected a huge portion of the population to slavery. In Rome, if a slave rebelled, the cross was the normal method of execution. The cross was a tool the Romans used to cement their control. When Jesus tells the disciples to pick up their cross and follow, they may have had second thoughts.

This particular passage is recounted in all three of the synoptic gospels—which tells us something about the impression it made on the disciples.[3] Yes, we know Peter doesn’t like the idea of Jesus dying, but that was all before Jesus issues this command. None of the gospels give us an idea of how the disciples and the crowd responded to Jesus’ call at this point. Such an omission is a part of the plan, I believe, for it allows us to respond to Jesus’ call in our own ways. This morning, we’re wrestling with what it means to pick up our cross. First, I am going to discuss some mistaken ways this call is interpreted: I’ll label these three as triumphant militarism, naive pacifism, and sentimentalism. Then I will offer ideas on how we are to be a servant of Jesus Christ and faithfully answer his call.

Peter’s idea of picking up the cross falls into my triumphant militaristic category. Remember, he’s the disciple who, at Jesus’ arrest, pulls out a sword and slashes the ear off of one of the men.[4] I imagine Peter, a fisherman whose muscles were well defined from working the nets, as a strong man. At this stage of his Christian walk, he’s a Rambo type character, ready to pull up the cross and use it as a club to pound his foes. Peter and the other disciples are ready for Jesus to set up a worldly kingdom. Peter wants Jesus to be King so he can be an advisor, right next to Jesus’ throne, the second in command.

When Jesus started talking about this suffering stuff, Peter gets nervous and decides he’d better try to steer his leader in a different direction. “Hey Jesus,” Peter remarks, “let’s rethink this part about dying.” But Jesus’ way wins out. The cross is not to be used by us as a weapon, nor does it give us any protection other than being a symbol of what Jesus has done for us.

If triumphant militarism is one extreme rejected by Jesus, so is the other extreme, which I label naive pacifism. I chose the term naive because pacifism for many Christians is an appropriate response. But when the path is naively chosen, we forget that we’re called to resist evil, to deny evil power in the world and instead we become a sacrificial pawn. Just as we should not use the cross as a weapon, it’s not to be used as a white flag of surrender, either. Jesus picked up his cross and carried it to Calvary in order to offer his life for sins you and I have committed.  Jesus died for our sins so that we don’t need to die for them, nor should we be expected to die for the sins of others. But this doesn’t mean there’s not work for us to do.

If we’re not to be militants or pacifists, we might be led to think the proper understanding—the middle way of understanding Jesus’ call—is sentimentalism.  Sadly, this is the way many people look at the cross. We clean up its horrific image and use it as jewelry and decor on our cars.  But such an understanding of the cross—if it goes no deeper—misses the point. It can even become a political statement or a superstition, which is idolatry. If the cross is only seen for its sentimental value—we’ve cheapened Jesus’ call.

I don’t know if I can give an understanding of what picking up one’s cross should mean to us all. Certainly, I think it means more than having a piece of jewelry. For a few people, it may mean martyrdom—as it did for many of the disciples. But Jesus certainly didn’t expect all his followers to be crucified. Secondly, martyrdom is not the highest virtue. Instead of martyr, the virtue we strive for is faithfulness. Yet, we learn from Jesus, if we love our life we will lose it.  Paul expands this thought when he speaks of our need to put to death the desires of the flesh and to live for Christ.[5]

By calling us to pick up our cross, Christ informs us that we’re not in charge of our Christian journey. We must be willing to follow him. Our calling isn’t about our needs or our desires, but about Jesus’ desire for us and for our lives. As Christians, we all have a calling that is linked to our vocations. Since we live our Christian life throughout the week, and we all have different occupations and trades, we each have to determine how we can best be true to our Savior. I can’t give a single definition of what picking up our cross will mean for everyone, just as Matthew didn’t tell us of the disciples response to this call.

As a seminary student, when I was a camp director in Idaho, we had each of the campers carry a live-size cross during a hike. Afterwards, around a campfire, we debriefed. Some told how difficult it was to physically carry the cross—toting the awkward beams and of the splinters. Others spoke about how they were uncomfortable to be out front of the rest of the campers, with everyone following and looking at them. Others had even more difficulty watching their fellow campers struggle. These wanted to show compassion by taking the burden of their friends.

These responses from the campers provide an insight into what the cross means and maybe an idea of how we pick up our crosses. When Jesus took up his cross, he was taking on the burdens of the world. He didn’t take the cross on his own behalf, but on our behalf. It wasn’t someone who lived a comfortable life that brought salvation to the world; it was someone who shared in the suffering of the whole world. We must understand that Jesus’ death on the cross is sufficient for our sins and the sins of the world.[6]

The penalty for sin—death—has been paid in full and none of us is being called to make another deposit—we’re not being called to save the world.[7]  By picking up the cross, Jesus shows his willingness to share in our pains and sorrows.  And he calls us, his disciples, to share in the pain of others. The campers who expressed compassion for the one carrying the cross understood, at least partly, what is means to be indebted to someone for taking on our burdens and for us to be ready to have compassion for others who are in pain. One meaning of picking up our cross is for us to be willing to stand beside others in need—whatever form that need might take. Jesus takes our burdens, he shoulders our cross, and the only way we can have a glimpse of what he feels is to feel the pain and burdens of others. So maybe our crosses have to do with how we show compassion.

I think our vicariously sharing in the pain of others also helps us to understand the proverb Jesus cites at the end of our passage. Jesus reminds us that whoever wants to save their lives will lose them and whoever loses their lives for his sake will find them. This is one of those great reversal statements of Jesus, but notice Jesus doesn’t call us to lose our lives in the lives of others. Rather, he calls us to place himself first in our lives—to put our total trust in him. Our call to discipleship is not to place some other than Jesus first (despite what politicians—many of whom have a messiah-complex, might hope for). Nor is our call to place ourselves first. It’s a call to follow Jesus and put our total trust in him. It means we must obey the first commandment: to have no god other than the one true God.  It means to take seriously the great commandment: to love God—the God revealed in Jesus Christ—with all our hearts and souls and minds and strength.

If we are grounded in our love for God as revealed in Jesus Christ, we will be able to fearlessly pick up our crosses, whatever form it may take, when Jesus calls. This means following Jesus even if it means losing our friends or being alienated from our families. This means following Jesus even though we will be despised. And it means we must be willing to follow Jesus even if lose our lives. We follow Jesus, and only him. Jesus is all that matters. Amen.

©2020

[1] 1 Corinthians 1:18

[2] See John 8:32-36.

[3] Matthew 16”24-28, Mark 8:34-9:1 and Luke 9:23-27. In each of these gospels, this scene is followed by the Transfiguration. Only Mark has the previous story of Peter confessing Jesus to be the Messiah.

[4] John 18:10.

[5] Romans 8:13.

[6] See Hebrews 10:1-18.

[7] 1 Corinthians 15:56.