Daily Devotions

“If another member of the church sins against you, go and point out the fault when the two of you are alone. If the member listens to you, you have regained that one. But if you are not listened to, take one or two others along with you, so that every word may be confirmed by the evidence of two or three witnesses. If the member refuses to listen to them, tell it to the church; and if the offender refuses to listen even to the church, let such a one be to you as a Gentile and a tax collector.

Truly I tell you, whatever you bind on earth will be bound in heaven, and whatever you loose on earth will be loosed in heaven. Again, truly I tell you, if two of you agree on earth about anything you ask, it will be done for you by my Father in heaven. For where two or three are gathered in my name, I am there among them.” Matthew 18:15-20

We all remember M. Scott Peck’s famous lines from “The Road Less Traveled”: “Life is difficult. This is a great truth, one of the greatest truths. It is a great truth because once we truly see this truth, we transcend it. Once we truly know that life is difficult-once we truly understand and accept it-then life is no longer difficult. Because once it is accepted, the fact that life is difficult no longer matters.”

I appreciate those words. They might even be true. But we still need some tools to navigate the difficulty of life. Jesus gives us an important tool today.

It is inevitable that people will get sideways from one another. Different points of view will lead to differences of opinion which will lead to disagreements. Broken people create breaks in relationships. People sin against each other. What then? Jesus gives us a path forward.

First, we are to talk to the person face to face. Alone. It might work. Confession and absolution might result. The relationship might be healed.

If not, we need to reach out for help. Bringing two or three others into the disagreement means there are more ears to hear, more perspectives to ponder. It might feel like ganging up but it doesn’t need to. There is safety in numbers. It might work. Confession and absolution might result. The relationship might be healed.

If not, Jesus says to bring the issue to the wider community. Why? Because there is more at stake than just a problem between two people. Many is the community that has fallen apart due to personal conflicts and divisions within. If a problem is serious enough to separate two people then it is serious enough, if not handled privately, for it to be dealt with publicly. But then comes the really hard part to hear, “if the offender refuses to listen even to the church, let such a one be to you as a Gentile and a tax collector.” Now that could mean show them all the more grace, or it could mean, separate them from the community. A nudge becomes a push.

All of this becomes an important tool in our lives for handing conflict. Conflict is inevitable. Life is difficult. How we handle conflict makes all the difference in the world. Jesus is clear that we handle conflict by working through it, not by pretending it away, or running around it, or spreading it by appealing our case to others who weren’t initially involved. Easy to say, hard to do.

Again I’m reminded where Jesus would have us focus our attention. We tend to think (even worry) about our relationship with God. Jesus redirects our attention to our relationships with one another. That God’s will be done on earth. That we forgive our neighbor. In that we will see Jesus in our midst.

Let us pray: Dear Lord, help us in our relationships with others to strive toward humility, honesty, and vulnerability. Keep our minds open and our hearts soft. Teach us anew that relationships are more important than results and that the wider purposes of our life together are worth working through the problems that arise along the way. Remind us again and again that you are always present. In Jesus’ name. Amen.

“Take care that you do not despise one of these little ones; for, I tell you, in heaven their angels continually see the face of my Father in heaven. What do you think? If a shepherd has a hundred sheep, and one of them has gone astray, does he not leave the ninety-nine on the mountains and go in search of the one that went astray? And if he finds it, truly I tell you, he rejoices over it more than over the ninety-nine that never went astray. So it is not the will of your Father in heaven that one of these little ones should be lost.” Matthew 18:10-14

Imagine if you were there that day. You see Jesus, a child sitting on his lap, surrounded by his disciples, as he speaks these words. Remember also that the question still hanging in the air is the question that the disciples asked in verse 1, “Who is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven?” How would you feel? What would you think? What would you see in the faces of the disciples? I would feel a bit ashamed.

The disciples don’t see the irony in their initial question. They don’t realize how pathetic and pandering their question is. As important as it seems to us to know who is at the top of the ladder, who wins the championship, who gets the corner office – such thoughts are ridiculous in view of Jesus – who teaches that there aren’t ladders, that playing the right way is more important than winning, and that every corner in creation is equally precious.

Jesus is holding a child. Do the disciples recognize how important that child is, or are they impatient, waiting for Jesus to let the child go off to play so they can get back to their adult, uber important, theologizing and philosophizing?

I don’t spend much time thinking about guardian angels – but this is one of the Bible verses that gives rise to the notion that everyone has an angel on their side, putting in a good word for them with God. Is that a childish notion? A silly idea quickly dismissed by our modern thinking? Or does such an idea change the game for us? What if we really took the idea seriously? How might it affect decisions we make regarding children if we begin with the idea that every child is infinitely valuable, with a direct pipeline to God, even if they don’t help pay the bills and are too young to vote?

We’ve all heard the one about the shepherd leaving the 99 sheep to go seek the one who was lost. But have we ever put it in this context? It brings a new meaning to the concept of “no child left behind”, doesn’t it?

Will this be good for children? From families to future generations, from congregational life to public policy, from schools to social conditions, this is a vital question, a matter of faith, that should be moved to a question of highest priority. Do you think Jesus would agree with that?

Let us pray: Gracious Lord, like your disciples we can get so caught up in our own lives, in our own sense of what matters, that we forget the implications of our lives on the children entrusted to our care. We forget to ask what is good for children. To their peril and our own. Cement in our minds the image of you holding a child in our midst and let that image influence the choices and decisions we make. In Jesus’ name. Amen.

Woe to the world because of stumbling blocks! Occasions for stumbling are bound to come, but woe to the one by whom the stumbling block comes!

If your hand or your foot causes you to stumble, cut it off and throw it away; it is better for you to enter life maimed or lame than to have two hands or two feet and to be thrown into the eternal fire. And if your eye causes you to stumble, tear it out and throw it away; it is better for you to enter life with one eye than to have two eyes and to be thrown into the hell of fire. Matthew 18:7-9

There is much in this 18^th chapter of Matthew about sin. Sin is that which shatters relationships between us and God, us and one another, and us and creation around us. Sin is disobedience and disconnection. It is selfishness and self-centeredness. It is what results when we put ourselves in the center of the universe, thinking everything revolves around us, and that we are the sole arbitrators of our own behaviors.

It is helpful to think of sin both as incurable disease and symptom. Sin as disease is a sign of the brokenness of all creation, the sense of separateness and alienation that plagues us. This deepest sense of sin is original sin, sin which reaches down to our roots. This is what Kierkegaard termed our “sickness unto death.” He argued we experience sin as despair and that it is an unavoidable aspect of human existence. As the Bible says, “all have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God.” In this we are victims of sin, members of a fallen humanity.

But we are also perpetrators of sin. This is sin as symptom of that deeper reality. We cannot cure the disease but we do have the freedom to limit and battle its symptoms. Despair might drive a hungry person to desire to steal food from a grocery store but they still have the freedom to fight that temptation and seek food elsewhere.

What Jesus calls “stumbling blocks” are quite literally the things in life that trip us up, that knock us off the path of obedience, of doing the next right thing. Jesus isn’t going to let us off the hook. He understands our tendency to justify ourselves, minimize our sin, hide behind “but everyone’s doing it” or “I couldn’t help myself.” And he is rightly concerned that we not intentionally do that to others in order to elevate ourselves.

All of this is quite serious in our day-to-day lives. Certainly Jesus doesn’t literally expect that we will chop off feet or hands or pluck out eyes – but his words amplify the dangers of not paying attention to where we go, what we do, and what we see.

The news today is full of stories of people suffering the consequences of their sin. The words of Luke 8:17 keep coming back to us, “For nothing is hidden that will not be disclosed, nor is anything secret that will not become known and come to light.” Lies, deception, sexual harassment, corruption – all are symptoms of the deepest realities of sin. Jesus wants us to realize that this stuff is serious. It poisons the wells of our lives.

Let us pray: Gracious Lord, from the cross you spoke the words, “Forgive them, Father, for they know not what they do.” Such words are vivid reminders of your grace and mercy. They are also signs of how deeply you know us. Sometimes our sins are so deeply imbedded in us that we don’t realize what we are doing. Far more often, we know but we do it anyway. Forgive us for embracing stumbling blocks in our lives. Heal us from the pain over that which we have stumbled. And light the path so we walk with integrity, humility, and care. In Jesus’ name. Amen.

At that time the disciples came to Jesus and asked, “Who is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven?”

He called a child, whom he put among them, and said, “Truly I tell you, unless you change and become like children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven. Whoever becomes humble like this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven. Whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me.

“If any of you put a stumbling block before one of these little ones who believe in me, it would be better for you if a great millstone were fastened around your neck and you were drowned in the depth of the sea.” Matthew 18:1-6

It is such a human question to ask: Who is the greatest? From sports to politics to business to the arts, there is always an argument to be made about who is GOAT, the greatest of all time. It is also a foolish question. There are so many variables in life that it is impossible to compare one person to another across the decades of change. Yet it fascinates us. Why?

The string of stories that open the Bible culminate in the 11^th chapter of Genesis. After the brazen refusal to follow one simple rule, falling prey to the temptation to “be like God”, in the 2^nd chapter of Genesis, the story continues with further alienation from God. Finally, in one more attempt to storm the heavens, the infrastructure improvement project of Babel results in the destruction of human community. So much for seeking to be the GOAT.

We want to believe that there is really something like being the “greatest” because it justifies our attempts to create our own reality, to be our own saviors, to create our own ladders to climb and mountains to conquer. We want to believe it really matters to reach the top, to be King of the Hill. Why? Because we still believe Babel was a worthy pursuit.

Enter Jesus who deflates our balloons. He picks up a child and holds her before his arguing disciples. Let this child be your model, your hero, your goal. Notice her humility, her vulnerability. She holds no confidence that she can do life on her own. That she can make up her own rules. That she can lord it over anyone else. She has no desire to be the greatest of all time in anything. Look at her trust. Look at her fears. Let her be your example.

“How is this good for children?” Listening Jesus means that this question, so seldom asked until it is too late, is perhaps the best question of all.

Let us pray: Gracious Lord, our pride gets in the way. We can’t imagine surrender other than defeat. We can’t imagine victory that requires vulnerability. We are as challenged today by the image of you holding a child before us as your disciples were back then. Teach us the difference between child-like and childish. Teach us anew what is most important in our lives. In Jesus’ name. Amen.

As they were gathering in Galilee, Jesus said to them, “The Son of Man is going to be betrayed into human hands, and they will kill him, and on the third day he will be raised.” And they were greatly distressed.

When they reached Capernaum, the collectors of the temple tax came to Peter and said, “Does your teacher not pay the temple tax?” He said, “Yes, he does.” And when he came home, Jesus spoke of it first, asking, “What do you think, Simon? From whom do kings of the earth take toll or tribute? From their children or from others?” When Peter said, “From others,” Jesus said to him, “Then the children are free. However, so that we do not give offense to them, go to the sea and cast a hook; take the first fish that comes up; and when you open its mouth, you will find a coin; take that and give it to them for you and me.” Matthew 17:22-27

As we reach the end of the 17^th chapter we still remember how the chapter began, the mountaintop vision of Jesus standing with Moses and Elijah as the voice of God said to those gathered, “This is my Son, the Beloved; with him I am well pleased; listen to him!”

What does it mean to “listen” to Jesus?

Any of us who have tried to communicate with a child, or a spouse, or a co-worker, knows there is a big difference between “listening” and “listening.” Listening doesn’t mean waiting impatiently for the other person to quit speaking so you can offer a counter-argument. Listening doesn’t merely mean hearing the words a person uses. The old, “in one ear, out the other.” It certainly doesn’t mean hearing their words and then running them through our own filter to twist them into what we believe they really meant by them.

No, listening means hearing what the other is saying. Receiving what they say from a place of trust and good will. Internalizing what they are trying to communicate. And then, again from a place of trust and good will, acting appropriately in response to what we have heard.

If that, in fact, is what it means to truly listen to someone else, let alone Jesus, then it is no wonder that we sometimes throw our hands up in despair and wonder why no one listens to anyone any longer. Especially when what is being communicated is difficult to hear.

As I said yesterday, the mystery of the ministry of Jesus, the good that he did in the lives of people, is not simply that he was misunderstood, it is that he was strongly opposed and actively resisted. For the disciples, listening to Jesus today means taking seriously his words, “The Son of Man is going to be betrayed into human hands, and they will kill him, and on the third day he will be raised.” They heard him. No wonder they were greatly distressed.

Do we hear him? Do we realize that following Jesus will take us to a place where we can be strongly opposed and actively resisted? Or do we cling to the idea that following Jesus will lead us to a comfortable and secure life here with the promise of eternal bliss to follow?

Then the story turns toward the payment of the temple tax. Did you see that one coming? We are following Jesus through the gospel of Matthew and it just so happens that today we find ourselves reading about taxation when our elected leaders in Washington are grappling with tax policy. Isn’t that interesting?

The temple tax was expected to be paid by every Jewish male over the age of 20. It wasn’t a huge tax, about two days wages for a laborer (let’s say $160 for someone making $10/hour), and most people paid it. Even Jews who lived far from Israel would send their temple tax back home. The tax itself wasn’t an issue for Jesus. He saw that it was paid. What we need to hear is how Jesus points out how the taxation system was gamed by the “insiders.”

The children of the powerful, the “insiders”, get off scot-free while everyone else pays their taxes. The temple tax (two days wages for the poor) would be chicken feed for the children of the rich. But what if it meant paying two days wages for the rich? An annual income of $1 million would amount to daily wages in a five day work week of about $3,850 or a temple tax of $7,700. Not quite chicken feed anymore. But it doesn’t matter. The children of the kings of the earth don’t have to pay taxes anyway.

Jesus, so as to not give offense, pays his taxes. He leaves it up to us to listen well and notice how sneakily injustice works in the real world. And if these words are well received by the poor, and rejected by the well-to-do, it only proves his point. Welcome to the struggle.

Let us pray: Gracious Lord, you create us for relationships with you and with one another. You create community. With that community comes sharing the burdens of life. One way that happens is by our pitching in through paying taxes. We pray today for those who make decisions about taxation, that they do their work wisely, justly, with concern for all, even if that leads them to a place of struggle and resistance, knowing that doing what is right for all will often be rejected by those with the most power. In Jesus’ name. Amen.

When they came to the crowd, a man came to him, knelt before him, and said, “Lord, have mercy on my son, for he is an epileptic and he suffers terribly; he often falls into the fire and often into the water. And I brought him to your disciples, but they could not cure him.”

Jesus answered, “You faithless and perverse generation, how much longer must I be with you? How much longer must I put up with you? Bring him here to me.” And Jesus rebuked the demon, and it came out of him, and the boy was cured instantly.

Then the disciples came to Jesus privately and said, “Why could we not cast it out?” He said to them, “Because of your little faith. For truly I tell you, if you have faith the size of a mustard seed, you will say to this mountain, ‘Move from here to there,’ and it will move; and nothing will be impossible for you.” Matthew 17:14-21

This is a common story in the gospels. A parent brings a sick child to Jesus hoping for help. What is uncommon about this particular story is that the parent first brought his child to Jesus’ disciples who were unable to help. Not unwilling, simply unable. Further, what is uncommon is that this story follows immediately after the affirmation of the Transfiguration. Even the demons listen to the voice of the beloved Son of God. The boy is cured instantly.

As we read this story we are not surprised to hear about a sick child. We are not surprised to hear that the disciples were unable to help. We are not even surprised to read that the boy was cured instantly. What IS surprising are the words of Jesus:

“You faithless and perverse generation, how much longer must I be with you? How much longer must I put up with you?”

Jesus doesn’t often talk like this. His words reveal his frustration with what he calls a faithless and perverse generation. Those are harsh words. Faithless means a lack of trust that God can do anything of significance. Perverse means a twisted re-ordering of reality, accepting the brokenness of life as natural, and rejecting the loving will of God as normative. Such a generation looks at the father of a sick child and throws its hands up in the air in helplessness, “There isn’t anything we can do. Just deal with it.”

Jesus doesn’t throw his hands up in the air helplessly about anything. He draws from the deep reservoir of God’s love and he makes a positive difference wherever he can. He sees a healed, restored, creation, and he works toward it. Today that means restoring a child to health. And it means expressing his frustration toward those who just don’t get it. They don’t see the possibility of another way, a more helpful way, a more whole and holy way. Dealing not just with that particular parent or child but with all parents and children.

The constant surprise in the gospels is not just that people don’t understand what Jesus is up to, they actively oppose and reject him. More on that tomorrow. But for now, consider this.

Millions of children in our country are able to go to the doctor when they are sick, regardless of their parents’ economic status or ability to pay, due to the Children’s Health Insurance Program, commonly known as CHIP. This program was adopted in a bipartisan way and has been in place for 20 years. It has been a blessing to the children of low and moderate income parents and pregnant women. On October 1^st of this year Congress chose not to reauthorize it. Its funding was cut off. Now it appears to be just another bargaining chip in tax policy negotiations occurring under the promise of the “greatest tax cut in the history of our country.”

If that program dies without replacement it will not be because of our inability but because of our unwillingness. It is not a matter of capacities but of priorities. If sick children of poor parents are last on the list of our priorities then are we not indeed a faithless and perverse generation?

Let us pray: Dear Lord, so often we feel helpless in the face of challenges that seem insurmountable. Like your disciples, we find ourselves unable. But you – you who command us to love one another – also promise to use our hands to do your work. Give us that faith that sees possibilities, that reorders priorities, that moves mountains, that brings healing. In Jesus’ name. Amen.

Six days later, Jesus took with him Peter and James and his brother John and led them up a high mountain, by themselves. And he was transfigured before them, and his face shone like the sun, and his clothes became dazzling white. Suddenly there appeared to them Moses and Elijah, talking with him. Then Peter said to Jesus, “Lord, it is good for us to be here; if you wish, I will make three dwellings here, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah.”

While he was still speaking, suddenly a bright cloud overshadowed them, and from the cloud a voice said, “This is my Son, the Beloved; with him I am well pleased; listen to him!”

When the disciples heard this, they fell to the ground and were overcome by fear. But Jesus came and touched them, saying, “Get up and do not be afraid.” And when they looked up, they saw no one except Jesus himself alone.

As they were coming down the mountain, Jesus ordered them, “Tell no one about the vision until after the Son of Man has been raised from the dead.”

And the disciples asked him, “Why, then, do the scribes say that Elijah must come first?” He replied, “Elijah is indeed coming and will restore all things; but I tell you that Elijah has already come, and they did not recognize him, but they did to him whatever they pleased. So also the Son of Man is about to suffer at their hands.” Then the disciples understood that he was speaking to them about John the Baptist. Matthew 17:1-13

We all understand the concept of a “turning point.” It is the sudden plot twist that changes the direction of the story. It is December 7, 1941. September 11, 2001. This scene, remembered every year in the church as Transfiguration Sunday, is the turning point in the ministry of Jesus.

As with all turning points, it comes with a quick glance backward and a long, uncertain, gaze into the future. We are reading a story where the bad guy is suddenly unmasked. We think back upon the story and wonder why we couldn’t see that coming all along. Then we watch as the rest of the story unfolds. Movies do this with flashbacks. The gospels do the same with the transfiguration.

Moses – representing the law, the religious rituals and lifestyle rules that guided the people of Israel in their relationship with God – and Elijah – the voice of the prophets who challenged Israel when they strayed toward idolatry and injustice – both appear speaking with Jesus. Jesus is unmasked. He is seen in continuity with God’s actions in the past. God is clearly up to something in Jesus and a few chosen disciples are privileged to see it first-hand.

Peter wants to capture the moment. Of course he does. That is what we do. We want to stay there. The grandeur of mountaintop experiences is exhilarating. We don’t want to leave. But we have to. Mountaintops are majestic but no one can live up there. Jesus certainly can’t. His work is not done.

Before they turn, they hear the voice of God. “This is my Son, the Beloved; with him I am well pleased; listen to him!” This was the point of the entire experience. Nothing changed for Jesus. His mission, his destiny, didn’t change. God’s affirmation, first heard at Jesus’ baptism, echoes again, now for the sake of the disciples. They will still struggle to understand. They will still resist what lies ahead. But they will do so with a new memory. A new unmasking. God is up to something in Jesus and they are along for the ride.

Let us pray: Gracious Lord, our lives also have had numerous turning points along the way. Surprising lucky breaks, disappointments, deaths, divorces, jobs lost, natural and not-so-natural disasters. Each time we wondered if you were with us. Each time we wonder how we will make it through. Sometimes you give us a sense, a vision, of your presence in our lives. You give us just enough to keep going. Thank you. In Jesus’ name. Amen.

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.” Matthew 16:24-28

What does discipleship look like?

We had a church council meeting this week. A gathering of people who consent to serve in rather thankless leadership roles in the life of our congregation. Every Christian congregation and Jewish synagogue have some form of these councils. We can’t do community life without them. They make decisions that guide the life of the congregation. They lead or serve on teams that do the real actual work it takes to make congregational ministry happen. They spend many hours every week and month doing this. For years.

One of our council members had spent the day in a grueling annual board meeting at work. When it ended, the others planned to go to a happy hour to relax. She said she couldn’t because she had to go to a church council meeting. She said, “They looked at me like I was crazy.”

For some people, their experience of the faith amounts to what one of our church folk here refer to as “sit and git” Christianity. The faith is a spectator sport for them. They expect worship to entertain and serve them. They think that giving money to charity is the best they can do to make a difference in the world. Their weekly engagement with the world at home and work happens with hardly a thought along the lines of “What did Jesus do?” They make time for worship, learning, or service only after their calendar clears up from all their other travel plans, hobbies, sports, or just sleeping in. Then they wonder why they just don’t “feel very connected” to the life of the congregation.

This seems to fall short of a standard that begins with these words: “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.”

I once worked at a Bible camp where the staff was expected to work hard. “Don’t just sit there, do something!” was pretty much internalized by all of us. And it was not too subtly enforced by the director of the camp. It wasn’t so much what he said, it was more of a non-verbal kind of communication, but we all were terrified of being caught by him in a non-productive moment. I didn’t like it at all. I specifically remember thinking that, if I ever get to be the boss of anything, I’m not going to be that kind of boss. My co-workers won’t be afraid of me. Their stomachs won’t tighten when they hear me coming down the hall.

I think about that when I read again Jesus’ words about the cost of discipleship. Clearly, his expectations are different than the “what’s in it for me?” attitude that drives much of what we do in our lives. We could read those words as if he was a scary boss who only values his employees for what they produce but I don’t think we need to. Even given the warning at the end of the final accounting to come.

I think it far better to hear him as one who knows us, and understands life, far better than we do. He knows what we need, even what we want, and he knows how misguided we are in finding those things. He does care about “what is in it for us” but he knows that the good we seek is best found when such good flows through us rather than ending in us. He knows things like real freedom lies not in the absence of responsibilities but in accepting and fulfilling those responsibilities with willing and grateful hearts.

The world might think such thoughts are crazy. Jesus doesn’t.

Let us pray: Gracious Lord, bring us to that place of maturity where we finally realize that our lives do not belong to us, that we are instruments useful to you, and that the daily responsibilities of our lives are where crosses come and we bear them or not. Thank you for the hours of diligent service, the hidden acts of love and care, the tireless efforts made for the sake of justice for all, that happen every day through those who heed your call to self-giving love and service to the neighbor. May you find us doing the next right thing, regardless of the consequences, not because we have to but because we want to. In Jesus’ name. Amen.

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.” Matthew 16:21-23

So the question is asked yet again, “If there really is a God, and if God is really good, then why does God allow so much suffering in the world?” Every human being has wrestled with that question. We ask it when said suffering happens far from us – a concert in Las Vegas, a church in Texas, a highway in California, a refugee camp in Africa, a village in Puerto Rico – and we ask it when it draws near to us – a loved one in a hospital, a friend with a harsh diagnosis, our own broken hearts.

The closest Jesus ever got to answering this question didn’t really answer the question. In John 9 he told his disciples that a man’s blindness was an occasion for God to do something good. And in Luke 13 Jesus says that hearing about the murder of innocents under Pilate and the tragic accident when the tower of Siloam fell and crushed eighteen people should inspire in us a desire to repent. That helps?

What if we quit trying to answer the question. What if we turn the question around a bit. Is God present in our suffering or is God absent from our suffering? The Bible’s answer is yes. God is present in our suffering because God is present everywhere. We can’t escape God’s presence (Psalm 139). Yet Jesus himself felt God’s utter absence in his own suffering, (Matthew 27:46). God is present but God can seem absent. That is our felt reality. But the deeper reality is that God is never closer to us than in our suffering – and God can come out of hiding in our suffering in remarkable ways.

Peter wasn’t ready to hear that. For Peter, suffering and God’s presence didn’t fit together. That suffering was in inevitable part of Jesus’ journey was not acceptable to Peter. That Jesus would willingly enter a time of real suffering did not fit with Peter’s sense of a future. Peter was following Jesus to ESCAPE suffering, not to enter it. There was that line in the sand again. And here is the sign of Jonah.

The stark reality of creation is that every living thing is going to die. Some measure of suffering along the way is unavoidable. What God opens to us in Jesus is not just life after death but life before death. What God calls us to alleviating suffering and preventing unnecessary suffering. Jesus turns toward Jerusalem and the suffering that awaits him there out of love. Divine, self-giving, self-sacrificing love.

That might not make much sense to Peter when looking at it from a human self-preservation point of view. Later, he will come around.

Let us pray: Gracious Lord, you turn us inside out and around and around when we look at your life and then our own. Where we escape, you enter. What we avoid, you embrace. When we would hold back, you would give freely. Again and again you hold open the door that says “Fullness of Life for All” and it always looks like repenting of our ways and following yours. Keep working on us. In Jesus’ name. Amen.

Now when Jesus came into the district of Caesarea Philippi, he asked his disciples, “Who do people say that the Son of Man is?” And they said, “Some say John the Baptist, but others Elijah, and still others Jeremiah or one of the prophets.”

He said to them, “But who do you say that I am?”

Simon Peter answered, “You are the Messiah, the Son of the living God.”

And Jesus answered him, “Blessed are you, Simon son of Jonah! For flesh and blood has not revealed this to you, but my Father in heaven. And I tell you, you are Peter, and on this rock I will build my church, and the gates of Hades will not prevail against it. I will give you the keys of the kingdom of heaven, and whatever you bind on earth will be bound in heaven, and whatever you loose on earth will be loosed in heaven.”

Then he sternly ordered the disciples not to tell anyone that he was the Messiah. Matthew 16:13-20

Here comes the first line in the sand. “But who do you say that I am?”

Jesus asked this question of the disciples in the district of Caesarea Philippi. This is a beautiful place. It is in the wooded foothills of Mount Hermon. A spring of water comes out of a grotto creating a small stream that gives birth to the Jordan River. Its significance reaches back to Alexander the Great who established a temple to honor the Greek god of nature, Pan. Later it became a Roman imperial city, an administrative center, renamed to honor Caesar Augustus.

Jesus traveled all the way north from Galilee, to the very edge of Israel, to an historic place that represented creation, pagan idolatry, and political power and only then asked his questions. “Who do people say that I am?” “Who do you say that I am?”

The options haven’t changed much over the years. Some say John the Baptist – an edgy religious teacher, a spiritual revolutionary – others say Elijah – a miracle worker who channels the power of God – still others Jeremiah or one of the prophets – one who speaks on God’s behalf to challenge both the people and their leaders. Interestingly, Jesus doesn’t disagree with any of that. But the real question is the one that follows.

“But who do you say that I am?” Now he gets personal. Standing there, so close to the earthly power centers of pagan religion, emperor devotion, and political power, Jesus draws his line in the sand. He asks his disciples, and he asks us, “Who am I, to you?”

We only hear Peter’s response. “You are the Messiah, the Son of the living God.” You, not Caesar, are the chosen one, the anointed one, the Savior, and Lord of all. You are the Son of the living God, not the ancient gods of nature who were so quick to bless earthly power, to welcome Caesars into their pantheon of divinity. Peter got it right.

Jesus quickly affirms Peter, “Blessed are you, Simon son of Jonah.” That’s an interesting title. Remember Jesus’ words from verse 4 of this chapter? “An evil and adulterous generation asks for a sign, but no sign will be given to it except the sign of Jonah.” More on that tomorrow.

Today Jesus asks us, “Who is Jesus, to us?” Is he a spiritual sideshow or Lord of our lives? Is he a magician, a miracle worker, good only for our entertainment or perhaps our rescue? Or is he the living embodiment of God, the One who reveals God’s will for all of life?

Martin Luther taught that our god is anything we look to for status, identity, and security. Who will it be? Caesar or Jesus? The gods of culture or the God of Creation? Who am I, to you?

Let us pray: Dear Lord, we don’t always, or even often, understand you. We don’t see you clearly. Our eyes are so easily blinded, our vision clouded, by the voices that call for our obedience and devotion. We need what Peter received, that power greater than ourselves, that insight that comes only from your Spirit, that we might believe, trust, and follow. In Jesus’ name. Amen.