Taking up the Cross

In today’s gospel reading we reach a major turning point in Christ’s ministry. Having reached the end of his public ministry in Gallilea and the surrounding area, Christ and his apostles travel to the region of Ceserea Phillipi.

It’s there that two major events of revelation occur: Peter’s confession that he is the Messiah, as we read today, followed by the transfiguration.

It’s also there that Christ turns -both metaphorically and literally- towards his death. After the confession, he begins to prophecy to his disciples that his death is approaching. After the transfiguration, he begins the long walk to Jerusalem and the Passover week in which his ministry reached its earthly culmination.

Further, during this time the focus of his teaching turns inwards, from a public preaching of the kingdom to a deeper preperation of the Apostles for the role which they were to hold in the founding of his church.

And all that begins with a question: “Who do you say I am?”

The Confession

But before that he asks, “who do others say I am?”

And the answers: John the Baptist, Elijah, or one of the prophets.

Common to all these answers we see a recognition by the people that Christ was a figure of prophetic significance: one who spoke words from God, carrying an important message to His people.

But we also see a misunderstanding.

Because to some, including King Herod, Christ’s prophetic ministry so soon after the death of John the Baptist is a sign that he is John, resurrected by God to continue his work.

Or to others, he might be Elijah: a theory of particular significance, as the ancient belief was that Elijah must return before God’s final plan would come to fruition.

Or to others he’s just “a prophet”, one of many.

But those suggestions are all too limited. Christ is more than that.

And He asked them, “But who do you say that I am?”

Peter answered him, “You are the Messiah.”

The Messiah.

The Lord’s annointed one, the divine ruler who would free Israel from her opressors and establish a kingdom that would usher in an age of peace and righteousness.

Then Christ orders his disciples not to tell anybody.

And it’s likely that they initially took this as a need for secrecy from the authorities: if the messiah is going to overthrow the Romans and introduce a new rule over Israel, then it was imperative that the Romans not know he intended to do so before the time was right. It wouldn’t be the first time a rebellion was cut short and those responsible horrifically executed for their crimes.

That assumption would make what he said next even more shocking.

He tells them that he must die and be raised from the dead after three days, revealing that the Messiah is not the conquering ruler of the popular imagination but rather the suffering servant of Isaiah’s prophecy.

Peter has correctly identified his job, but he’s misunderstood the job description.

A mistake which is sadly common even today.

There are many, even in the church, who will attest to respect or even follow Christ but yet see him as just a great man. Perhaps they view him as a great moral teacher, offering instructions and examples on living a good and ethical life. Or perhaps they see him as a therapist or counselor who offers motivational quotes and feel-good wisdom that they can turn to in times of trouble. Perhaps like Peter they mistake him for a revolutionary leader whose teachings offer a distinctly political opposition to opressive human leadership and offers a path to revolution and creation of a better government. Maybe they even see him as a prophet who points us to God, yet fail to recognise that he is the one who suffered to take the punishment for our sins.

They misunderstand his mission, just as Peter did.

As a result of his misunderstanding, when Peter hears Christ speak of his own death, he takes him aside and privately rebukes him.

Why privately? Perhaps it was out of respect and an attempt to avoid creating a scandal - in the honour-shame of culture of the time, it just wouldn’t do for the students to see their teacher being corrected by one of their own.

Perhaps it was also from a sense of his own importance: not only had he been the one to identify Christ’s role as the Messiah, but according to Matthew’s account of this story the saviour’s response had been to declare that he would build his church on that testimony!

Perhaps Peter felt now that he had some important part in ensuring the Messiah’s victory.

A victory which this apparent talk of ignoble defeat and a horrific death threatened.

And so he felt entitled to correct his boss’s direction in order to maintain the right image.

Whatever the reason, Christ’s response is not privately reassure him, but to turn to the other disciples and to speak up so that they all hear him, and understand what Peter has said.

The Correction

“Get behind me, Satan! For you are setting your mind not on divine things but on human things.”

Once again, Christ gets to the heart of the matter: Peter has mistaken the role of the Messiah as that of an earthly political leader, and consequently his criticism is based on an earthly perspective.

He wants to be part of a movement that will bring power and glory to his people - and to himself.

And he wasn’t the only one to feel that way: Christ’s turning to the group to make his rebuke was likely because he knew they all felt the same way. Peter was merely the messenger speaking on behalf of the group.

One day the apostles would understand the full truth of the Messiah’s unique mission, but for now they were all fixated on a human perspective.

But more than just that, in this moment Peter is speaking as an agent of satan - the adversary, who opposes God’s plans - by encouraging the saviour to prioritise his own self-preservation over the will of the father.

Just as Christ was tempted in the wilderness, now he is tempted in Ceasarea Philipi, by his own disciple.

And just as he commanded satan to get away, now in the same language he commands Peter and the other disciples to get behind him - that is, he does not dismiss them but rather reminds them of their proper place, following and learning from him. To cease to offer these temptations.

Knowing that contrary to the perception of the world he will not be disgraced by his upcoming suffering and death but rather will be vindicated as he brings salvation to those who would reject him with insults and spitting, the faithful servant does not rebel and turn away from his destination but rather he sets his face like flint as he leads his followers onwards, preparing to spend what little time he has left preparing them for their role in a divine kingdom which they have yet to fully understand but which soon they will be instrumental in furthering.

How many today similarly place their eyes on things of the world, rather than divine thing?

Those who view the Messiah not primarily as the one who suffered for our sins, but as the one who sould rule?

There’s a popular concencus amongst some in the church today, that to take the gospel to the world means to take God’s law to government.

That it is the duty of the church to conform the law of the land to the law of the kingdom.

To criminalise sin, and to privilege Christianity over other religions .

And those people are often well meaning - they believe that it will please God to physically punish the sins that He died to pay the spiritual payment for on the cross.

Or they believe that to enforce Christian morals will encourage the people to turn to Christ as the ultimate source of what they’ve been mandated is right.

Or that “Christian values” are intrinsically attached to national success and cultural flourishing.

They’re turning the Messiah into a political ruler.

They’re setting their mind on human things.

But the messiah who came to serve, who came to suffer, and who came to die, is the ruler of a kingdom that is not of this world.

And yes, he calls us to repentence and yes, he calls us to go into the world and make disciples of all and yes, he wants allto flee from sin and yes, he wants all to have an abundant and full life.

But he doesn’t call us to to bring them the gospel through ruling, or through political power.

The Call

He calls us to take up our cross and to follow him.

Something that would have been instantly understood by the original readers: the cross was the symbol of the most horrific execution method the Romans had devised. It was emblematic not only of a slow and torturous execution, but of an ultiamte shame and humiliation.

Christ was plainly telling his disciples that to follow him was lay down their very lives, to experience rejection and suffering and shame.

And then he makes that even plainer when he says that those who give their life for his sake and the sake of the gospel will save it.

That it will profit nobody to gain the whole world - earthly, political power - but to forfeit their life on the day of judgment.

Uncomfortable words to those of the day who expected to rule an earthly kingdom.

And uncomfortable words to those today, who believe that those who are faithful to Christ will recieve rewards of wealth and power and signs of worldly success in turn.

He says that rather than be afraid of facing shame and scorn for being his followers, we should be more concerned that if we are ashamed of him then he will be ashamed of us.

Uncomfortable words to those who would argue that faith should be a private thing, not shared or talked about lest it cause offense.

Now, this isn’t a promise that we will suffer pain and death and humiliation. But it’s an assurance that we can do so, and a promise that we will be welcomed into His kingdom at the end of it.

Because to take up our cross isn’t simply a metaphor for death and suffering. It’s also a metaphor for proclamation: remember in the passion narrative, that Christ and those who were crucified with him were made to carry the crosses on which they were to be executed through the streets. It was a very public display that marked them as those who the Romans had decided to give the worst and most brutal of punishments. It wasn’t something that could be missed.

And in the same way to take up our cross is to clearly and publicly make known our allegiance to Christ.

Our following in the footsteps of the suffering servant.

Our being marked as those who Christ has called to come follow him, and who have obediently answered that call.

And of our declaring boldly our answer to that question which he asks of us, “who do you say I am?”

Mark 8:29 NRSV

“But who do you say that I am?”

So who do you say that He is?

Is he a moral teacher?

A therapist?

A political leader?

Is he a good man who set an example to follow?

A radical agitator who encouraged subversive resistance against the powers of empire?

A source of wealth and power and worldly success?

Is he the messiah who overthrows the enemies of his people and institutes an earthly kingdom?

Or is he the suffering servant?

The messiah who overthrows not an earthly government but the sin that seperates us from our creator?

The one who was scorned and beaten yet was not shamed.

The one who took up his cross in a declaration of his victory over satan, and who calls us to take up our own cross in a declaration of our loyalty to him.

Is your focus on divine things, or on earthly things?

Friends, a recurring theme in Mark’s gospel is how often the apostles, and Peter in particular, get it wrong. Again and again we see them misunderstand Christ’s message and mission, and today’s reading is just one of many.

But ultimately, they would understand, and they would see the Kingdom of God come with power.

And so too when we find ourselves with a case of seeing Christ as “right job, wrong job description” we have the opportunity to rethink and realign.

And so we need to constantly examine our motives. Question if we’ve been distracted satan to turn our thoughts from the divine to the worldly.

Take up our cross.

And show the world that Christ is the messiah, the one who sustains the weary with a word, who takes away our sins.