Jesus calls us to take up the cross and follow him as disciples. Answering this call changes the way we see the world. As Jesus’ followers, we follow the Messiah who humbled himself, laying down is life rather than taking up earthly power.

This week’s Scripture readings are Romans 12:9-21, Psalm 26:1-8, and Matthew 16:21-28, and portions of this sermon are adapted from my previous sermon on these texts from August 30, 2020.

Here’s the sermon podcast audio and the livestream video:

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Grace and peace to you from God our Father and our Lord Jesus Christ. Amen.

Today’s gospel reading begins “from that time on” so we need to start by backing up a little bit. A few verses earlier, Jesus had asked his disciples what people were saying about him, who the crowds thought he was. The consensus was people saw him as John the Baptist, or Elijah, or another prophet.

Then Jesus asked them the more important question: “Who do you say I am?” and Peter was the one to speak up. The world misunderstood Jesus, but Peter had the right answer.

He spoke his great confession of faith: “You are the Messiah, the Son of the living God.” That’s who Jesus is, God’s son, our Lord, God living among us, the savior, the messiah. The Holy Spirit is on his side, flowing through him, giving him the right answers.

Think how great that moment must have been for Peter, maybe the proudest moment of his life. Ever have one of those moments where you just feel so connected with God, where you feel God at work in you?

Peter is the perfect disciple, the rock. The church will be built on his declaration of faith. What a great hero of faith! But that’s not the end of the story. It’s not even the end of the chapter.

With his identity out in the open, “from that time on” Jesus takes his teaching to the next level and he starts talking about the cross, about what’s going to happen to him.

And Peter—who’d just seemed to have everything figured out—Peter turns out to be totally misunderstanding Jesus’ mission. Jesus is the Messiah, but that doesn’t mean what Peter thinks it means.

Peter’s confession of faith, his recognition of Jesus’ identity is important. He’s not wrong there. The cross where Jesus is going only makes sense in connection with knowing Jesus as “the Messiah, the Son of the Living God.” Otherwise, it’s just some guy dying, executed by the state. Only if Jesus is the Son of God, God in the flesh, God with us, does the cross matter for us today.

But Peter’s not there yet. All he’s hearing is that the One he thought was the Messiah—the one he was so certain was the Son of God—is now talking about suffering and dying. He understood the first part—Jesus is the Son of God—but he can’t grasp what that means. His picture of God’s glory doesn’t include a cross.

When Peter thinks of sacrifice, he thinks of us giving up something God demands from us. He doesn’t think of God coming and offering to die for us. He’s looking for a savior to defeat the evil powers in this world, to rescue him, not someone those powers of evil can put to death!

So Peter takes Jesus aside and begins to rebuke him, “God forbid it, Lord! This must never happen to you.” The “Rock” turns into a stumbling block for God’s mission.

It’s easy, I think, for us to shake our heads at Peter for not getting it, for rebuking Jesus. We all know better, right? If there’s one thing every Sunday School kid learns, it’s that Jesus died for our sins. How could Peter be so wrong about the heart of our faith?

And yet, how often do we do the same thing as Peter? How often do you and I try to fit God into our own box, our own image of what a Messiah or Son of God should look like? We keep trying to understand Jesus as an earthly leader, a politician or a warrior, rather than a suffering servant. We want him to meet our expectations.

We want to protect Jesus from the dirt, keep the church clean, keep our Lord somewhere safe, somewhere away from the muck of our lives, to jump right to Jesus as heavenly king above all the junk.

And yet, the message of the cross is that Jesus came to take the worst this world could throw at him. Christianity’s unique proclamation is that God—the almighty eternal Creator of the world—has entered into the mess of our world, into the muck of our lives, and that’s good news.

We don’t need to protect Jesus; he wants to come in and shine light into the darkest shadows of our lives. Peter tries to protect Jesus from himself, but Jesus’ whole mission as the Messiah is to take the worst humanity can dish out.

Jesus is not some professor teaching about God from an ivory tower, or a politician jetting in to say how she’ll fix our problems and then leaving again; he is Immanuel, God with us, the Word made flesh, dwelling among us. He’s the good shepherd who comes to live among the flock, who lays down his life for the sheep.

So what does it mean to follow a crucified leader? What’s it look like to be a disciple of a God who’s willing to enter into this messed-up, broken world and undergo great suffering and be killed and then be raised?

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?”

Following Jesus means taking up a cross. It means denying ourselves, giving up our own desires for power, for wealth, for authority, giving up the human things, and instead taking up a symbol of powerlessness and humiliation, a means of execution.

It means identifying not as a ruler or conqueror or judge, but rather identifying with the suffering, the imprisoned, casting our lot with the powerless.

Following Jesus means seeing both God and the world through the lens of the cross, which is a very different lens than the one the world around us has. And the world’s lens can be pretty tempting.

I hate to say it, but we’re already well into the next political campaign season. We just had the first primary debate what, a week and a half ago?

If you pay attention to the upcoming campaigns, I guarantee you the world and the media and the politicians are going to tell us to interpret everything through the lens of fear and competition.

Even if you don’t pay attention to party politics, you know the message. It’s all about stopping the other side, the horrible things coming if those people get their way. It’s all about getting our side into power.

Sisters and brothers in Christ, that is not our call. I believe there can be good done through politics, I believe the government can and should do good to protect and serve people, and I believe God works through Christians who are called to work in government. It’s not too early to start doing your homework and paying attention. I think casting your vote is a way of loving your neighbors. It’s our duty as Christian citizens to pray for our country.

But remember: As Christians, as disciples of Jesus, we see the world differently. What we value is different than what the world values, because we’re called to interpret everything through the cross, through the lens of the God who came and suffered for us. What good does it do to gain all the power in the world, and to lose your life?

Even many Christians fall into this trap. It’s a lot more attractive to declare ourselves the chosen people, the ones set apart by God, the holy nation of scripture; than to recognize we are set apart to be God’s hands and feet in the world.

We’re called not to take up power, but to give it up to serve the outcasts of society, the people villainized, ignored, or shamed by the world.

We are called to take up the cross. Not to take up wealth, or nationalism, or a flag, not to take up slogans, or fame, or any of the other things this world says are so important, but to take up the cross, a symbol of humiliation transformed into love.

The cross is the proof God is present with us in this messy world, in the unexpected places, in the deepest depths of our suffering, in all of human existence.

This kind of faith will lead to opposition. The powers of this world don’t like their values being ignored, or worse, challenged. Sometimes people get upset when our faith doesn’t stay in its lane, when Jesus doesn’t stay confined in the walls of the church building. Remember, Jesus’ message was offensive and challenging enough for his enemies to kill him.

Putting the humble way of Jesus ahead of your job, your country, even your family, that’s controversial. The path of Jesus—the path we are called to follow—leads through the cross.

But don’t miss the last part of what Jesus began to show his disciples. He must go to Jerusalem and undergo great suffering, and be killed, and on the third day be raised. The cross transformed into a symbol of God’s redemption. Through the cross there is life. There is freedom. There is hope. Not in the human things of this world, but in the failure of this world’s priorities.

Death is not the end of the story. Jesus suffers for the world, but the suffering doesn’t get the last word. The cross leads to resurrection, which means that the call to take up the cross is also a call to resurrection for us. God is at work transforming even us. As we talked about last week, “Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your minds.”

And what does that transformed life look like? What changes for us when our understanding of God starts with Jesus suffering on the cross out of love for the world? What changes when we set our minds on the things above, when we prioritize the things of God, rather than the human things of this world?

Look at Paul’s instructions to the Christians in Rome. It looks like genuine love. Hating what is evil, but holding fast to what is good. Loving one another with mutual affection. Rejoicing in hope. Not seeking earthly victory the way Peter assumed, but seeking to live at peace with all.

It looks like living in such a way that the people we encounter know we are Christians by our love, supporting one another, feeding even our enemies. Seeing “them” as people God loves.

Of course, that’s a lot to live up to, and none of us can do it on our own, at least not all the time. This list Paul gives us is aspirational, something to live up to.

Even the best Christian community falls short – we’ll talk more next week about how God’s faithful people fail to live up to who we’re supposed to be. We ought to mourn with those who mourn and rejoice with those who rejoice, but we’re human and we all have our own baggage too, and sometimes we don’t bear one another’s burdens the way we ought to.

And yet Jesus continues to call us. The Holy Spirit continues to renew us. Let’s pray.

Heavenly Father, you call us to take up our cross and follow you, yet there is so much in this world we are tempted to value more than you. By your Holy Spirit, give us faith to trust that the life you have for us is better than anything this world can offer.

Help us to use our time in this world for good, to do your work. Thank you for the cross, for your coming to dwell with us and your promise to be present with us always. In Jesus’ name we pray, Amen.

Taking Up a Cross-Shaped Perspective | September 3, 2023 Sermon
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