Where Were You When…

Mark 8:27-38

Where were you when you heard the news that the World Trade Center towers were hit by two planes? Do you remember exactly what you were doing and where you were when you heard that startling news? Most of us do. Bright and sunny September days when the skies are blue and the air is crisp still remind me of that day five years ago.

Where were you when you heard the news that a previous student from Orange High School went to the school and opened fire in a copycat Columbine attempt? Or what about Wendell Williamson walking down the streets of Chapel Hill with a loaded gun shooting and killing two people? Do you remember where you were when you heard that startling news?

Where were you when you heard that the space shuttle Challenger blew up while lifting off? Or when the Columbia broke up over Texas upon re-entry?

Where were you when you heard that your father or mother suddenly died and you weren’t there? Or some other relative or close friend died unexpectedly? Where were you and what were you doing? We remember don’t we?

It’s not always horrible tragedy that etches where we were and what we were doing into our memory.

Where were you when you heard you were going to have a baby…perhaps unexpectedly?

Where were you when someone called you out of the blue and offered you your dream job?

Where were you when she said, “yes!” or he said, “yes!” to your proposal of marriage?

Where were you when you heard you were accepted into the college of your choice? Or got that big scholarship? Or passed that test you thought you flunked?

When startling news happens, good or bad, it seems to take roots in our memory as to where we were or what we were doing when we heard. Details of that moment stay with us. Smells can trigger a memory. The weather can bring it all back to life again.

Where were you when you heard that God loves you unconditionally? What were you doing when you heard the sin no one knows about can actually be forgiven? Do the questions of faith fall into the same category of other startling news? If we could have a conversation with Peter about the day our passage from Mark describes, I bet he could point out the spot on the dirt road and the position of the sun when Jesus startled him with the news that discipleship wasn’t exactly what Peter had imagined.

This passage is a hinge in Mark. In the first half of Mark, Jesus reveals himself to demons and disciples as the miraculously powerful son of God. In the second half of Mark, Jesus moves with increasing weakness and frustration toward apparent defeat and death in Jerusalem.[1] And what we have here is a hinge between those two movements.

Jesus and his disciples just left Bethsaida where Jesus healed a blind man. Now they are on their way to the villages around Caesarea Philippi. As they walked along, Jesus throws out one of those questions that seem innocent enough, but you can almost imagine the disciples looking at one another when the question is asked because no one’s quite sure who’s supposed to answer it. Somebody, we don’t know who, gives a non-answer as kind of a joke: “You’re John the Baptist come back from the dead!” and they all must have chuckled nervously. Then someone else says a little more seriously, “Some say you’re Elijah,” because of the prophecy in Malachi which says, “Lo, I will send you the prophet Elijah before the great and terrible day of the Lord comes.”[2] I’m not sure the disciples really believed Jesus was the return of Elijah either but that’s what people were saying. Someone next says, I believe still a little more seriously, “You’re one of the prophets though I’m not sure which one.” Isn’t it obvious from this little exchange that, at this point, Jesus was more of a question to be answered, than an answer to the questions people already had.[3] Sure he had healed. Sure he had fed the crowds. He’d even walked on water! Yet, the disciples are not quite sure who this man is that they’ve been traipsing after all over Galilee.

Then Jesus does it. He plunges the conversation deeply into personal land. He asks, “But who do you say that I am?” It’s one of those questions that sounds socially out of bounds to us. It’s like asking, “So how much do you weigh?” Or, “What did you really pay for that car?” You just don’t ask stuff like that Jesus! When we simply deal with what the Christian faith says about Jesus, or what Baptists say about him, or even what Cane Creek Baptist Church says about Jesus it’s OK. Here, the discussion stays safely in the realm of theological speculation. But when the question becomes, “Who do you say Jesus is?” then it the bull’s-eye is on us!

So who is Jesus to you? Be careful now! Before you answer, you should pay attention to what happens to Peter. Peter jumps in boldly, as we would expect him to, with his answer, “You’re the Messiah.” This is the first time in Mark this emotionally, politically, and theologically-charged word is used. When Peter used it, he had a perception of what this word meant and an image of how he saw Jesus fulfilling this image. Political rescue, social revolution, and religious deliverance were all part of the common Messianic image of the day. But Jesus wanted no part of what other people thought. For Jesus, Messiah meant suffering, rejection, and execution. And if one wanted to be a disciple of this kind of Messiah, then suffering and personal cross-bearing is part of the deal. Jesus told Peter and is telling us, “If you want to follow me, you must put others first. You must lose your life in order to save it. You must lose everything in order to gain everything.” This sounded overly-demanding to Peter, he told Jesus so, and he got a tongue-lashing from Jesus on account of his agenda.

Do you remember when you first realized this was the deal for following Jesus? Where were you? Do you remember the date? Maybe it’s now.

Peter is not the only one confused with what discipleship really means. When one is a Jesus follower, we rarely know what cost will be exacted on us. But Jesus makes it pretty clear that a cost there will be!

What Jesus is doing here in this passage is pushing the disciples to a position that scares most of us – whole-hearted discipleship. It’s startling news to hear the demands of being a Jesus follower.

Soren Kierkegaard told a parable that I’ve updated a little about a town where everyone loved and admired the fire chief. One day, the fire whistle went off and all the firefighters hurried to the trucks so they could go to the fire which was at a local farmer’s barn. When the fire trucks got close, the road was blocked. Everyone from the community saw the smoke and came out parking their cars right where the fire trucks needed to go. Not only that, but all the citizens were also standing there with squirt guns! Occasionally, they would turn and shoot their squirt guns symbolically toward the fire. The fire chief, frustrated that he and his crew weren’t able to get to the fire, yelled, “What are you doing? What are you trying to accomplish?” The crowd replied with a smile, “We’re all here to support your efforts. We believe in the good work you do for this community and each of us wants to make a humble contribution.” Then they turned and squirted a few times in the direction of the farmer’s burning barn. Completely frustrated, the fire chief got on the truck’s loudspeaker and said, “People! Get out of here! Fires like this are not for well-meaning people who want to make limited contributions! These situations demand people who are ready to risk their lives to put out the flames!”

How does our faith measure up to what Jesus expects of us? Are we willing to risk everything to do what God calls us to do? Or are we simply toying with our faith, shooting off occasional squirt gun blasts of faith to show our support and our need to let others see we’re making a contribution?[4] Where were you when you heard what being a real Jesus follower is all about? Who’s ready to deny whatever you need to deny so you can follow him?

Amen.

[1] George Aichele, “Jesus’ Frankness,” Semeia, Volume 69-70, 1995, p. 261.

[3] James Luther Mays, Interpretation: A Journal of Bible and Theology, Volume 30, April 1976, p. 175.

[4] The parable in Kierkegaard’s original form was found in Tony Campolo’s book, Let Me Tell You A Story (Nashville, TN: W. Publishing Group, 2000), pp. 82-83.