SERMONS

Proper 7C
June 24, 2007

By The Rev. Alston Johnson

Luke 9:18-24

I remember hearing an interesting exchange between folks of differing theological views.  One was describing how the Eucharist, our communion service, is something like a dinner-party honoring Jesus.  He is the honored guest, and we are all gathered together to “toast” him in a sense. There are warm memories, stories to tell, and good company to share.

After a pause, the other said, “Too bad that a nice guy had to die for the invitations to go out.”

It is still early in the game for the disciples.  They are still coming to know Jesus.  They are perhaps still in a frame of mind that Jesus is a kind of Messiah, a kind of saviour, whom they can understand.  A Messiah who seems to fit the mold that perhaps they have carried since they were children, hearing stories of the warrior kings and prophets of Israel, the David’s, the Solomon’s, the Elijah’s.  When they look at Jesus, when they listen to him, perhaps it is these voices that they hear, perhaps it their faces and deeds that they see.

One who triumphs, one who causes the world to flinch on its terms - the immovable, noble object upon which the kings of this world will be smashed.  Perhaps there is a whiff of smoke, perhaps there is something of the master and commander they would like to see in this man Jesus.  It is clear that the crowds see something different in Jesus, which is perhaps why Jesus asks this question.

There is a thought that Jesus must gently plant within the disciples - that he will not fulfill their expectations.  That the sound of metal clashing against metal will not be his own raised sword against Israel’s foes; that the smashing of Kingdoms will not come because two armies have gathered - it will rather be one army gathered against one man.  And so how does Jesus share this news?

Is it really the case that Jesus is unaware, or perhaps even interested, in what the crowds are saying?  For whose sake is Jesus asking these questions?

Up to this point in Luke’s Gospel, the Twelve have seen Jesus primarily working, living, and teaching from a position of power and strength.  Jesus teaches with authority, Jesus heals, Jesus calms a storm, He has been courageous and challenged authorities, all of it rising from a place of  power and confidence.

In this moment Jesus gently opens another door;  so that his friends might look more deeply into the reality of what is unfolding, of how God is going to turn the world inside-out; of how God is going to save humanity not with conquering deeds, but with suffering love.

C.S. Lewis once shared this insight: “It costs God nothing, so far as we know, to create nice things: but to convert rebellious wills, cost Him crucifixion.”

And you see, there is a catch; the proud, courageous, and valiant souls of the twelve will also have to be broken and reborn.  Their hopes, their aspirations for Jesus, their aspirations for Israel and glory, these too will have to come and stand under the shadow of a cross, of a Messiah who will not conquer the world on its own terms, who rather says good-by forever to the world as we know it.

The great truth that Jesus is gently trying to show his Twelve is that God will turn the world inside-out, the rivers will flow backwards, and where we think we are losing in life is actually where we may find ourselves most alive.  It is a counter-intuitive: those who save will lose; yet those who lose will save.

You see, Jesus is showing them, one step at a time, that all of this fellowship, all of this friendship, all of this power, all of this experience of a shared purpose, it will cost him his life . . . for the disciples, for the crowds, for their hopeful purpose, He will be poured out.  And there is nothing for anyone to do, but to follow. 

In what must have seemed to be something of a dream come true for the Twelve, “living the dream” of the day of the Messiah; Jesus introduces the gravity, the gravitas, that lies beneath everything He was, He is, and He will be - that a single decision to trust God the Father, and to die for us, is heart of the matter, the spark of light in the darkness, that then spreads into a sunrise that will never retreat from us. The decision for victory is the decision to follow him there.

I remember hearing a question one evening during a worship service that left me lying awake in the night.  “If you were sitting in courtroom before a jury of your peers, would there be enough evidence gathered to convict you of being a Christian?”

Would there be enough evidence that you had carried a cross?  Here, in my heart, in your heart, would there be enough of the right stuff to be his, and accept His end?
It seems to me that this is an appropriate question with which to begin and end any day that we live.  Throughout the history of the Church, some have practiced what is known as the “examen,” the examination of the conscience, as a means of finding those places in our lives where we might perhaps walk more closely with our Lord. 

Some pattern the examen upon the Ten Commandments, some upon the Beatitudes, but the questions remain the same.  Where have I either failed or fulfilled God’s vision for my life?  In light of today’s passage from Luke, we might consider bringing the examination of conscience into one or two phrases:  Where have I sought to save My life, rather than lose it, for His sake?  Where is the Cross in my life?

Where might we turn darkness to light?  What anger might we douse with the water of forgiveness?  What distrust, what grudge, might we leave at the altar? What love might we gather from this altar to take into the world, into our lives?  Where we would hesitate to stand for the Faith, for the truth spoken in love, might we take a small step forward?  Where we would guard the gates of our hearts, where we would stand watch over our pain, our confusion, where we would keep out the very ones who want to help us, might we have the courage to trust, to be carried, as our Lord was carried through his own death, his own dying, into a new life?

Might we take up his cross and push back the soul killing darkness of our hearts and our lives, so that we might follow him into new and everlasting life.

What do we have to lose?  What do we have to lose?  Everything it seems. Life as we know it.  Exchanging one life that is destined only for the setting sun, for a life that is destined only for an eternal sunrise.

For it is in trying to save everything as we have known it, that we will lose.

It is in losing everything as we know it, that we will save it.