The Gospel according to Mark 8:31-38

Jesus Foretells His Death and Resurrection

Then he began to teach them that the Son of Man must undergo great suffering, and be rejected by the elders, the chief priests, and the scribes, and be killed, and after three days rise again. He said all this quite openly. And Peter took him aside and began to rebuke him. But turning and looking at his disciples, he rebuked Peter and said, ‘Get behind me, Satan! For you are setting your mind not on divine things but on human things.’

He called the crowd with his disciples, and said to them, ‘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, and for the sake of the gospel, will save it. For what will it profit them to gain the whole world and forfeit their life? Indeed, what can they give in return for their life? Those who are ashamed of me and of my words in this adulterous and sinful generation, of them the Son of Man will also be ashamed when he comes in the glory of his Father with the holy angels.’

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In the book of Genesis, God makes three promises to Abraham.  They get made over and over in various stories, and we get a part of one of those stories this morning.  The three promises are:

1. I will make of you a great nation.  You will have lots of descendents.

2. I will give you land, and

3. I will make you an example to the world, a “light to the nations.” 

What these promises have in common is that each one is ridiculous.  “I will make of you a great nation.”  Abraham is one hundred years old.  His wife, Sarah, has never been able to have children, and now she is ninety years old.  When God tells them that they will have a son, both Abraham and Sarah laugh out loud.  (Gen. 17:17; 18: 9-15)  I don’t care who said it; it’s ridiculous. 

“I will give you land.”  They have no land.  He’s a hundred; she’s ninety; it seems a little late in life to begin investing.  “I will give you this whole country,” God says, “which, by the way, is already occupied.”  Ridiculous.

“I will make you a light to the nations.”  Abraham is nothing more than the leader of a small band that wanders around in a tiny, arid part of the world.  The thought of him or his offspring becoming a “light to the nations” seems, well, ridiculous. 

Maybe God could pull off these ridiculous promises, but what could Abraham possibly offer as his part of the equation?  God wants Abraham to be righteous, in right relationship with God, other people, and himself.  You don’t’ have to read much of Genesis to see that Abraham, like me and you, isn’t.  So how can he possibly hold up his end of the deal?

In one of the tellings of the covenant story (that comes a little before our reading this morning), we see that what is required of Abraham is ridiculously simple, and yet perhaps ridiculously hard.  God makes the three promises, and the text says that Abraham “believed the Lord, and the Lord reckoned it to him as righteousness.” (Gen. 15:6)  Abraham believed, and God counted that as if Abraham was in right relationship with God.  And God fulfilled the three ridiculous promises.

Why does that matter to us?  Because during Lent of all times, we should be acutely aware that we are not in right relationship with God. “We have erred and strayed from thy ways like lost sheep, we have followed too much the devices and desires of our own hearts, we have offended against thy holy laws, we have left undone those things which we ought to have done, and we have done those things which we ought not to have done.”^[1]  Who can say that and not get tagged?  Not I.

St. Paul was haunted by this inability of us fallible, screwed-up, “ain’t right” people to be in right relationship with God.  He started out trying his very hardest to follow the law, do everything right.  He was, he thought, the very best of “good boys.”  Yet he failed.  If you think you can be really, really good, good enough to be in “right relationship with God,” you will fail too.  You’re not allowed to lower the bar so you can get over it.  The standard is perfection in your relationships with God, others, and yourself.  I’ll save you some trouble: you’ll never make it.  Paul found that out the hard way. 

So, are we doomed?  We can’t get it right; we can’t be in right relationship with God, so are we doomed?  In his letter to the church in Rome , Paul says, “No.”  He goes back to that ridiculous statement about Abraham: “His faith was reckoned to him as righteousness.”  Paul says, “Look, this wasn’t just for Abraham.  It is true for us as well.  If we believe in Jesus, that will be reckoned, accounted, to us as righteousness, right relationship with God.  God will treat us as if we’re in right relationship even when we aren’t, if we’ll only believe that God will. 

This is probably the best news ever delivered, anywhere, to anyone.  It’s like throwing a drowning man a Coast Guard approved flotation device. 

So, why is it that for so, so many of us, it’s so hard to grab hold, to believe that believing is enough?  I have found that people who are really fearlessly, searchingly, painfully truthful with themselves about their own shortcomings, their own sinfulness, often have the hardest time believing that believing is enough.  (That’s sadly ironic because people who think they’re in good shape because they follow the rules are actually in much more spiritual peril.)

A friend recently asked me, “If God really loves me, why don’t I feel it?”  I know about that; I know about not feeling it.  I don’t always feel it, and sometimes I don’t feel it more than I do. 

I think that when we believe it but don’t feel it, the reason is that we don’t really believe it.  We might accept it as a theological proposition, but we don’t really, in our bones, believe that all that’s required of us is to believe that the Creator of the Universe is the kind of God who would suffer to be in relationship with us. That, you see, is the story of Jesus: God suffering to be in relationship with us.  When Paul says we have to believe in Jesus, that’s what we have to believe in. 

And God doesn’t suffer to be in relationship with some generic “us,” but the real me, the real you, the real me that is tagged over and over when we confess.  The real you.  The wonderful you, yes!, but also the you you’d rather — weren’t part of you.

I think it’s hard for us to really believe it because when we are brutally honest with ourselves, many of us, probably all of us at some time, secretly think that the part of ourselves we’d rather weren’t part of ourselves — is simply unlovable.  Sure, maybe we could work it off, or pay a price because of it, but to have someone, God, love us with it?  Ridiculous.  Think of how much pain that would cause God.  Think of how hard it would be for Perfect Love to be in a loving relationship with me, and you, tagged parts and all. 

It is painful for God.  That is the story of Jesus.  He came as pure love walking among us, and paid a terrible price for being in loving relationship with us. 

I can’t solve my friend’s problem about not feeling God’s love.  I can’t solve my own.  Except that I can say to him, to me, and to you, that I have it on good authority that the God who is Pure Perfect Love itself is willing to suffer to love the parts of me, and you, that, in our limitations, we can’t imagine being lovable.  And I’m going to commit to trying not to limit my belief in God’s ability to love by my own limited ability. 

Loving any of us causes God both great joy — and great pain.  But even though God’s love for us is absolutely, maddeningly free, you’ll find that being shaped by it comes with a price.  You see, the more we can believe that God loves even our “unlovable” parts for free, the more we can be freed to love more like God loves, and the more we love like God loves, the more pain we will suffer to be in relationship with those flawed, sinful people. 

That was a mouthful, so let me say that again: the more we can believe that God loves even our “unlovable” parts for free, the more we can be freed to love more like God loves, and the more we love like God loves, the more pain we will suffer to be in relationship with the  flawed, sinful people sitting next to you, the people you see during the week, and the person you see in the mirror. 

That is a mouthful, I know.  I think Jesus said it better.  He said, “If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me.”

The Rev. James H. Pritchett, Jr.  St. John’s Episcopal Church, College Park , GA

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