"God Forbid!" given Sept 3, 2017

 Jesus had given Simon the nick-name, "Peter", or "Cephas" in Greek. Both words mean "Rock". Rock, Foundation, corner-stone of God's coming Realm. Keeper of the keys. The orinal “Rocky” Why? Not because he was a boxer or wrestler. Not because he was necessarily a “tough guy”—at least not in the physical sense. Because Peter had been the one with enough vision and sheer chutzpah (which I guess, IS spiritual toughness) to be able to respond when Jesus asked,

"Who do you say that I am?"

"You are the Messiah, the Christ, the Son of the Living God." That confession of faith , and Jesus's subsequent affirmation of it made Peter the leader of the disciples, the spokesman for them from that point on. From that moment, Simon the fisherman was dead. Peter the fisher of men and women was born.

And yet, a moment later, when Jesus began to challenge them, when He began to speak of the cost of building God's Reign on earth, Peter balked. Jesus was being honest with them, trying to convey the challenge, the call to sacrifice and self-giving, the cost that discipleship entails. Bluntly, Jesus was telling them that this vision of a new world, this dream of a new kind of relationship between human and the Divine, this last best hope for God's Shalom between people and nations would cost Him but His death.

And, Jesus added, it would cost them the rest of their lives. And it would quite probably cost them their deaths as well. Jesus was struggling to help them understand that the New Life He was bringing would also, inevitably mean Death. It means death to all the old sins within us and among us, death to all our self-centered ways of living, death of our old world, and the loosening of ties to the things of this world. And yes, it would mean physical death as well-- at least for some of them.

That was a little heavy, even for a guy newly nicknamed "The Rock". It was one thing to call Jesus God's Messiah. Peter would gladly take that risk. But what was all this about torture and persecution and sacrifice and suffering? What in the world was Jesus talking about? Religion wasn't supposed to be about that stuff. Religion was supposed to make you feel good.

No doubt all of them sitting there listening were disturbed by the melancholy turn of Jesus's teaching. No doubt some of them began to wonder, worry, as they sat there, waiting for somebody to speak up. Peter had got Jesus off on this depressing tangent. Why didn't he say something? And finally Peter did. With the devil of fear gnawing at his heart, Peter interrupted this teaching that none of them particularly wanted to hear.

"Sacrifice? Humiliation? Torture? Imprisonment? Death? God forbid that such things should happen to you, Master. God forbid!" And though he didn't verbalize it, perhaps Peter was no doubt also mentally adding to himself, "God forbid that they should happen to me!"

Yes, Peter wanted the new way. But God forbid at the cost of losing the old way. Yes, they all wanted new lives. But God forbid at the cost of losing their old lives. They wanted to be a branch grafted onto Jesus, the new vine. But God forbid that they should have to be trimmed from the old vine first. They wanted to bring forth fruits. But God forbid that they should have to be planted in the earth and die first.

And Jesus, no doubt, looked at Peter. And perhaps He wondered how Peter could be so insightful, so courageous in his faith one moment, and so fearful, so self-centered and dense at the next. Jesus was, as He admitted, tempted to listen to Peter's words. But He didn't. Jesus overcame that temptation once again, and turned to Peter and addressed-- both Peter and the devil of fear and self in Peter's heart.

"Get away Satan. Get behind me. Get out of my way. You are an obstacle, a hindrance to me. A moment ago I called you rock. Now you have become a stumbling block, a stone blocking my path. Get out of my way!"

And then, Jesus continued, telling them, "If you truly wish to follow me. if you really want to be my disciple, you will have to renounce yourselves as you are now. You will have to change. You have to do violence to your very selves. Your old selves, your old ways, your old lives, your old fears and hopes and wants and desires must all die.

And the truth is, if you aren't willing to do that, if you'd rather keep on living the old, self-centered lives you lead now, then you'd better forget me. Forget my teachings. There will be no newness, no vision possible for you. My vision means commitment. My vision means passion. My way has a cost. And the cost is all that you have and all that you are."

I wonder if that text rings a bell for you? Have you ever had this experience? You wanted to do something good for someone, or even just for yourself. You wanted to visit the nursing home, or the hospital, or even the jail. You wanted to go out of your way to do someone a favor.

You wanted to send a card, or visit an old, lonely friend, or contribute to Houston relief or some other worthy cause. You felt the call to be a foster parent, or become a missionary, or a nurse, or a teacher, or even a minister. You were challenged to sponsor a refugee, or adopt a child, or join the peace corps, or become a scout leader, or give time to Hospice, or work at a pantry. You thought you might go on a mission trip, or sing in the choir, play an instrument in worship, visit shut-ins, call on prospective members, be part of a Bible study, serve as a officer or on a committee in our church.

The point is, you wanted to do something meaningful, or at least helpful, or just simply be kind. Youy wanted to do something to improve your own life—go back to school or even something as simple just as going on a diet. And suddenly, someone-- a relative, or a spouse, or a neighbor, or a friend, or even just a little voice inside said:

"Don't do that. Don't risk yourself that way. It's too much trouble, too much effort. You could be taken advantage of. You could get taken. You could give of yourself and end up being burned out. . They could trample all over you. Think of yourself! Don't risk it. Don't make a fool of yourself. God forbid that should happen to you!"

The temptation to give into the devils of respectability and comfort and self and security is a strong one. Those devils can tie us up and trap us into old, sinful ways of living--life centered around our ego instead of around Christ for literally years, decades sometimes.

Have you ever heard of Augustine, the Third Century church thinker, who was converted from a life of wanton self-indulgence as a young man? After his conversion, Augustine rose to become a bishop in the church in North Africa. He is remembered as a saint. But while he was young, still struggling with his decision for Christ, Augustine was supposed to have prayed that God would make him pure and chaste--but not yet.

Augustine left behind a remarkable book called simply The Confessions. It is a classic journal of the pilgrimage of a soul to faith. In The Confessions, Augustine credits the piety and prayers and patient loving witness of his mother, Monica with eventually leading him (and his father as well) to Christ. The story is told of Augustine that one, day, shortly after his conversion, he was walking down the street.

Approaching him, was a woman he recognized as one of his former mistresses. He immediately turned and began to walk in the opposite direction. Surprised, the woman cried out,

"Augustine, it is I!" But Augustine, hurrying away called back,

"Yes, but it is not I!"

In his book Beyond Personality, C .S. Lewis, the Twentieth Century English scholar and Christian apologist describes the call to self-denial.

"Christ says, 'Give me all. I don't want so much of your money and so much of your work--I want you. I have not come to torment your natural self, but to kill it. No half measures are any good. I don't want to cut off a branch here and a branch there. I want to have the whole tree down.

I don't want to drill the tooth, or crown it, or stop it, but to have it out. Hand over the whole natural self.... I will give you a new self instead. In fact I will give you myself, my whole self shall become yours."

"I will give you myself." Augustine wasn't lying to that woman. It was not the old "I". The old Augustine, the old "I" was dead. He had become a new person--made new in Christ. Thus, Augustine the drunk, the philosophical dilletante, the corrupt playboy became Augustine the believer, Augustine the bishop, Augustine the saint.

Simon the fearful fisherman became Cephas the fisher of men and women. Peter who denied his Lord on Good Friday became Peter the Apostle on the Day of Pentecost, foundation-stone of the first church.

I'm going to tell you a secret that you might not want to hear. Discipleship is never without cost. Sometimes the cost is a literal losing of life--as it was for Jesus himself, as it was for Peter eventually, as it has been for countless martyrs throughout the entire two thousand years of our faith's existence--and still is today in so many places around our so-called, civilized world.

For only some of us, that ultimate giving of self to a life of loving service, and even possible ridicule is the price of faithfulness. But we all must pay some price in order to truly become one of Jesus' disciples. You and I are called to give our lives freely, joyously in service and love to others--that Christ's Commonwealth might advance, that the Heavenly Realm might come just a little bit closer in our little corner of the world.

And thinking about it, it's only fair. After all, our lives, our selves, our time, our energy, our possessions are all, after all, ultimately gifts to us from our Creator. And thinking about it, maybe it's not such a bad price to pay. After all, what is really the value, what is the true quality of those old lives we cling to so desperately?

In the movie City Slickers, Billy Crystal plays a disgruntled Yuppie trapped in a life of frustration and meaninglessness. He is invited to speak to his son's grade school class about his job. Instead he tells them,

"Value this time in your life kids. It goes by so fast. When you're a teenager, you think you can do anything and you do. Your twenties are a blur. Thirties you raise your family, you make a little money, and you think to yourself,

'What happened to my twenties?' Forties, you grow a little potbelly, you grow another chin. The music starts to get too loud. Fifties you have a minor surgery--you call it a procedure, but its a surgery. Sixties, you'll have a major surgery, the music is still loud, but it doesn't matter because you can't hear it any way. Seventies, you and the wife retire to Fort Lauderdale. You start eating dinner at 2:00 in the afternoon; you have lunch around ten and breakfast the night before. The eighties, you'll have a major stroke, and you end up babbling with some Jamacian nurse who your wife can't stand but who you call Mamma. Any Questions?"

Polls show that one of the greatest regrets of people who know they are dying is that they did not experience life as fully and meaningfully as they might have liked.

Sisters and brothers, do you know how many people there are in this world who call themselves by the name of Christ? More than one third of humanity is Christian, in name at least. And yet, things continue to change so terribly slowly. The old ways of sin and death continue to dominate our world.

So much money and effort is spent on the defense of the old life- styles of sin and self and meaninglessness. And so many people still starve. So many are homeless and hopeless. So many lives are wasted-- needlessly expended in pain and frustration and futility.

Why isn't Christ's Realm more visible? Could it be that so many of us self-proclaimed Christians are really disciples in name only? Could it be that so many of us so-called followers of Jesus want to have our cake and eat it too? Like the old Peter, we call Him Christ, but when challenge comes, when opportunity for service calls, the very first words out of our mouth are "God forbid!"

Far too many of us are willing to see the establishment of God's Earthly Realm, so long as it requires no effort, no giving, no sacrifice on our own part. We'll cooperate with the coming of Christ's coming Realm, but only as spectators, not participants. We'd like to see the Holy Reign of Shalom come into being, but until that happens, we'll stick to the reign of self-seeking humanity in this world.

In this morning's Gospel Reading, Jesus makes it clear. We can't have it both ways. No pain, no gain. You can't live the old way of life and at the same time contribute to the coming of the new way of life. Augustine couldn't pick up again his life of exploitive sex and self-indulgence and still remain faithful to his Lord. You and I can't overcome the old order of hunger and injustice and hatred and sin by tsk-tsking at sin and sinners, but refusing to die to that same old order in our personal lives.

Jesus said it. "Come on. Carry my cross. Help me carry it. Try to keep your old life and you'll end up losing it. Give your life to me, for others, for God, and you'll gain it. What possible good can all the material things of this life, all the success, all the security, all the power and prestige and status in this world do you--if you end up losing your soul?"

Elsewhere in the Gospels, Jesus reminds us,

"The grain of wheat must first die, in order to flower and grow a hundred-fold."