Sermon - September 12, 2021

Grandpa Schultz was my hero. My mother’s father was the patriarch of our family for many years. He was a quiet, gentle man, who didn’t talk much, nor was he very expressive with his emotions, but his presence and his words carried weight. I remember being out to dinner with him for his birthday when he was in his late 80’s. While taking our orders, the server learned that we were celebrating my Grandpa’s birthday. She asked how could he be in his late 80’s when he looked so good? Now, Grandpa wasn’t known for being the funniest person, but he had a dead-pan, dry wit that showed up now and then. In response to the server’s astonishment, he said, “Well, I’ve never had any problems, and I don’t work very hard.” Now, if you knew him, this was hilarious. Because Grandpa had his share of problems, to say the least. He and Grandma had 5 children: Alan, Nathan, my mother Deborah, Dan, and Paul. Nathan died of a brain tumor in 1977, at the age of 27. My older brother who you heard preach a couple months ago was named after him. Alan died in a helicopter accident just 10 months later, and Alan is my middle name. To bury two of your children before they reach the age of 30 is a sorrow no one wants to see. In 1986, just as Grandpa was preparing to retire after a long career in ministry as a Lutheran pastor, Grandma had a massive stroke, upending all their plans. Instead of enjoying a house in the woods of Arkansas, they moved to Ohio to be near us, and Grandpa spent the next 20 years caring for his wife, transporting her, cooking for her, bathing and dressing her. One month before Grandma died in 2006, their youngest son Paul died of melanoma at the age of 50. Grandpa lived until 2014, and before he died, he was aware of my mom’s early onset Alzheimer’s. At the age of 93, he was still acting as a father to my mother, helping her process yet another loss. “I never had any problems, and I don’t work very hard.” Now you can see why Grandpa’s joke was so funny. Grandpa demonstrated how to bear the suffering of life without becoming bitter and still finding a way to laugh. Over and over again, he lost the life he was planning on, yet didn’t lose his soul. We are at the turning point of Mark’s Gospel. Until now, things have been pretty great. Jesus has been healing, feeding, and including people. He’s been upsetting those who are uptight and been welcoming people who don’t belong. Frankly, it’s been a great traveling show of miracles, food, and joyful hospitality. But there’s more to this upside-down kingdom than just food and friendship, because there’s more to life than just winning. There’s also losing. There’s heartbreak and betrayal. There’s oppression and war. There’s brain tumors and helicopter accidents. There’s strokes and melanoma. There’s Alzheimer’s, and yes, there’s the cross. How does being part of the kingdom of God help us through all the parts of life we wish we could skip over, but in time must bear? Jesus asks his disciples a direct question, “Who do people say that I am?” They respond with a list of Israel’s greatest prophets. Some say John the Baptist. Others say Elijah. A few people think you’re Elvis. Jesus then asks, “But what about you? Who do you say that I am?” Peter responds, “You are the Christ.” That word “Christ” means Messiah or anointed one. Peter is suggesting that Jesus is not merely a prophet and miracle worker, but he’s also Israel’s true king. To be the anointed one is to carry Israel’s hope for deliverance on your shoulders. That hope was not merely to heal and feed people. Israel’s hope was that the Christ would come, overthrow their oppressors, and lead them to victory. Interestingly, Jesus doesn’t say Peter is correct, though I think the implication is that he is. Jesus simply says, let’s not tell anyone about that right now. Why all the secrecy? Well, for one, if word gets out that Jesus is claiming to be Israel’s Messiah, then you can expect Herod and his gang to do to Jesus what he did to John the 1 Baptist. Keeping a lid on things at least is strategic until the time is right. But there’s another reason Jesus wants the disciples to stay quiet. They need to learn what it means for Jesus to be the Messiah. Because Jesus is the Messiah, but he is unlike any Messiah we have ever known or imagined. He explains to them, “The Human One must suffer many things and be rejected by the elders, chief priests, and the legal experts, and be killed, and then, after three days, rise from the dead.” This is Jesus’ plan to usher in the kingdom of God—to suffer, be rejected, and be murdered. Only after that will he rise from the dead. It doesn’t sound like a winning strategy. Losing, it seems, is part of the plan. It’s baked in. There’s no getting around it. And for Peter, this is unthinkable. How will Jesus lead the revolution if he’s dead? To be Messiah and to be murdered is simply a contradiction. Peter tries to correct Jesus and set him straight, but that doesn’t go to well, does it? Jesus says, now you’re acting like Satan, so you best get out of my way. Jesus is on a path that will lead to his crucifixion. He knows and accepts this, but Peter does not. And you can’t blame him. Everything to this point of Mark’s story has been building momentum to a grand conclusion where Jesus wins, everyone gets fed and healed, and the corrupt leaders are expelled. How can losing Jesus to the corrupt leaders be the plan? But wait, there’s more! It gets worse. Not only does Jesus say he’s going to lose, but he also invites us to join his losing team: “All who want to come after me must say no to themselves, take up their cross, and follow me. All who want to save their lives will lose them. But all who lose their lives because of me and because of the good news will save them.” Now we must be careful with these verses. This is not Jesus’ blanket endorsement of suffering, much less oppression. This week, I read catechisms that were used to teach black slaves that taking up their cross meant obedience to their masters. That’s not what Jesus is talking about. These verses have been used to tell battered spouses to stay quiet and carry their cross. That’s not what’s going on here. Jesus is not telling the oppressed to stay oppressed, but he is inviting us to recognize that loss is a part of life that we cannot avoid. We must learn to bear it. No amount of life hacks or vision boards, meditation or manifestation, clean eating or exercise, positive thinking or laws of attraction can keep us from that. You can gain the whole world, but loss and suffering are still baked in. Following Jesus is not about avoiding the absurdity of life. Taking up your cross is about willingly embracing life’s inherent trauma and still saying yes to your life. Can you receive the unfairness of life and not become bitter or resentful? Faith does not protect you from suffering. It didn’t protect Jesus, and it won’t protect us either. What faith in Christ does is give us a foundation of trust, wherein we know that no matter what comes our way, no matter what we lose, we can be sure of this—we are forever loved by God. It’s not about understanding, “Why did this happen?” It’s about trusting that in whatever happens, I am still loved by God, and that’s enough for me to say yes and amen to the life I’ve been given. Winners in the kingdom of God are not those who go from victory to victory. Winners in the kingdom of God are those who through the storms of life know that life is still worth living. Grandpa Schultz lost by most worldly standards. He didn’t make much money. He was never a famous preacher. By the time he died at 93, three of his five children had died and a fourth had a terminal illness. Yet through it all, he never stopped living. He still managed to say yes and amen to the life God had given him. The last time I saw him, he was in hospice care. And when I approached his bedside, he asked with a grin on his face, “Is there a man behind 2 those glasses?” To which I responded in all sincerity, “I hope so.” Dead-pan, dry wit to the end. Grandpa bore the suffering of his life, while still trusting that God loved him. Suffering and loss are baked in, but God’s love is the foundation upon which we can say no to our plans and yes to our lives. Nothing can take that away from you, not brain tumors or helicopter accidents, not strokes or melanoma, not Alzheimer’s or the cross. Your life always is worth living, because you are forever loved. 3