How Will I Be My Name?

Pastor Kyle Clark

Gospel Lesson: Mark 8:31-38

Sunday, March 8, 2009

Second Sunday in Lent

The wisdom of childhood innocence often appears in unexpected ways.

Debbie and I just shake our heads and smile as we remember some of the things Haley and Nathan use to say when they were just learning how to talk. One things that Haley did was sing, Jesus Loves Me.  

Jesus loves me, this I know.

For the Bible tells me so.

Little ones to him belong,

They are sweet and he is strong.

 True words, spoken from the mouth of a child.

Pastor, Timothy Merrill tells the true story about 6-year old Grace. Grace is the daughter of a linguistics professor. It seems Grace and her mother were standing in line at a church potluck dinner and were talking with Tim about the things little Gracie’s class was learning in Sunday School - The Lord’s Prayer. Wanting to show the preacher how well she was doing Grace began to pray: “Our Father who art in heaven, how will I be my name…”  

When I read this, I thought, “Now there’s a sermon in that!”

How, indeed, will I be my name? Our names are our identities. How will I be my identity? How will I be a Christian today? How will I be a follower of Jesus? Ask yourselves these questions and chew on the answer for a while. How will we be who and what Christ has called us to be? How will we be our identity? How will we be our name?

Our text this morning marks a new beginning in Mark’s Gospel. Prior to this point, Jesus has called the disciples to follow. The emphasis of Jesus’ ministry has been on his power and authority.  From this point on, however, the emphasis will be on Jesus’ suffering and death. Jesus makes it clear in the words we read this morning that anyone who would be his disciple must be prepared to deny himself or herself, sacrifice himself or herself even for the sake of Christ and the gospel. Our actions, you see, are to be in response to what Jesus has done for us.  

In the early church, new converts were given new clothes at baptism. As they entered the waters, they took off their old garments and as they came up out of the waters a new set of clothes signifying a new beginning was given to them.  They were also given new names – their given or first name remained the same but their new last name was “Christian.” (i.e. Brian “Christian”, Reita “Christian”, Kyle “Christian”). It was a serious and intentional move by the early church to cause people to consider what their baptism, their new identity really meant – to think about this faith that they now professed. 

That’s what Mark is doing in our passage this morning. He is making us think about who we are as followers of Christ and our faith – he is doing theology. We need to think about our faith. We need to consider what it means for us to call ourselves by our new name, “Christian.” We need to do theology because it is really easy to become confused.

The text we read shows us just how easy it is to get adulation and truth confused. Peter correctly identifies Jesus as the Messiah, but doesn’t have a clue about what that means when he is told that the Christ must suffer and die. We can’t sit hear in our pews this morning and think, “poor ol’ Peter; he just doesn’t get it,” because sometimes, maybe it’s possible that we don’t get it either. We come to church. We recite the words of the liturgy. We sing the songs and say the prayers and read the Bible and have the devotion, yet it’s still possible to miss what Jesus is about. You see, a necessary part of discipleship is cross-bearing, and these are words we don’t necessarily like to hear.

Peter, as did most first century Jews, expected a mighty warrior or powerful political figure who would reestablish the throne of David and return Israel to the glory days. Yet Jesus’ first instructions after Peter’s proclamation of Jesus’ identity is that the “Son of Man” must suffer and die and rise again. I don’t know but I imagine that at the shock of these words Peter and the other disciples stopped listening after Jesus said that he would be killed. Perhaps they never heard the “rise again” part. At any rate, this hardly seems like the description of someone who could shake the establishment in Jerusalem much less be powerful enough to conquer Rome. Peter and the others failed to realize that the “Son of Man” does not have power by the world’s standards. Jesus’ power is the same otherworldly power that we read about last week in God’s covenant with Noah. God willed, God decided to bear suffering, to endure wickedness in the world rather than destroy the world. God continued to open up the divine heart for the sake of the world. Jesus suffered and died for the forgiveness of the world. Jesus was resurrected for the justification of the world. This power to endure suffering for our sake is the power that Jesus has and that Peter and the others fail to recognize.

How many of us are like Peter, when Jesus asks, “who do say that I am,” are quick to respond, “You are the Messiah, the Christ, the way, the truth and the light,” yet try to manipulate the truth to create our own savior image? We want a Messiah who exhibits worldly power; we want spectacular, we want light-shining-all-around-us glory. We don’t want a Savior who can be perceived as weak, who suffers, who can be killed. These are undesirable qualities. Marva Dawn, author of Reaching Out without Dumbing Down, asks the question, “If people are saved by a spectacular Christ, will they find him in the fumbling of their own devotional life or in the humble services of local parishes where pastors [and parishioners] … make mistakes? Will a glitzy portrayal of Christ nurture in …believers his character of willing suffering and sacrificial obedience? Will it create an awareness of the idolatries of our age and lead us to repentance? … [will] it bring people to a Christ who calls us away from the world’s superficiality to deeper reflection and meditation?” Oh yes, Christ has power, the power to suffer for our sake.

But, what about us? What about this business that we must suffer?

Certainly God does not delight in human suffering. Yet much of what is truly worthwhile can be accomplished only by those who are willing to trust Jesus’ word that suffering does indeed belong to God’s plan. It has been said that, “every struggle in the soul’s training… that is not accompanied by suffering, that does not require our utmost effort, will bear no fruit.”[1] Somehow, many Christians have come to believe that despite everything the Bible tells us about the suffering of righteous people, if they pray hard enough God will remove trials from their lives. We want the glory and not so much the cross. I’m sorry, that’s just not the way it works.

Martin Luther makes an important distinction in contrasting a “theology of glory” with a “theology of the cross.” A theology of glory is characterized by a triumphalistic posture which seeks to know God only through or especially through mighty acts of power, amazing miracles, revelations of glory and stunning victory. There are a lot of books that espouse such a theology – The Prayer of Jabez, for example, promises readers a “front row seat in a life of miracles.”[2] Others promise us “our best life now.”  Countless television preachers, with great sincerity, tell us that God, in his glory, is waiting to rain down material blessings upon us, that we have not because we believe not, or that our lack of faith is the only thing inhibiting us from receiving the miracle and claiming the victory.

It’s true that we read about God’s mighty acts of power and salvation in both the Old and New Testaments of the Bible. But Luther correctly points out, I think, that God’s ultimate act of love and self-revelation was demonstrated through great suffering and death on a cross. Nor is simply “being good people” enough. Such thinking minimizes the importance of the cross and ignores the vows we take at our baptism.

A theology of the cross insists that we know God’s love not so much through miracles and great outbursts of power but through times when we willingly give up our places of importance and through our self-denial stand up for justice and righteousness and holiness – when we stand up for those who cannot stand for themselves – when we stand up for and stand with those who are unfairly persecuted, rejected and denied – when we stand against anything that intentionally harms or destroys another person (all of whom are created in God’s image) -- and when we stand alongside Christ who calls us and in whom we find life, who we believe gives life. Taking such a stand against those policies and actions and persons who place goals and agendas above the gospel and above people will define us, identify us, name us – Christian. And it will inevitably lead to our suffering for the sake of our name.[3]

Do you know why Jesus doesn’t promise security in this world? Because security can decrease the need for a vibrant faith and faith, for Mark, is an absolute necessity. Faith in Christ establishes our identity. In the words of the Baptismal covenant we proclaim that we participate in the suffering and death of Christ as well as the resurrection of Christ. Our baptism in Christ gives us our identity, our name. Denying ourselves, taking up our cross determines how we will be our name.

She was a recruiter for Teach America and had come to the campus of Duke University to recruit teachers. Her job was to recruit some of the nation’s most talented college graduates to go into some of the nation’s worst public schools. That was their way of transforming these schools into something better.

This woman stood up in front of a large group of students, and said to them, “I can tell by looking at you that I have probably come to the wrong place. Somebody told me this was a BMW campus and I can believe it looking at you. Just looking at you, I can tell that all of you are a success. Why would you all be on this campus if you were not successful, if you were not going on to successful careers on Madison Avenue or Wall Street?

“And yet here I stand, hoping to talk one of you into giving away your life in the toughest job you will ever have. I am looking for people to go into the hollows of West Virginia, into the ghettos of South Los Angeles and teach in some of the most difficult schools in the world. Last year, two of our teachers were killed while on the job.

“And I can tell, just by looking at you, that none of you are interested in that. So go on to law school, or whatever successful thing you are planning on doing. “But if by chance, some of you just happen to be interested, I’ve got these brochures here for you to tell about Teach America. Meeting’s over.”

With that, the whole group stood up, pushed into the aisles, shoved each other aside, ran down to the front, and fought over those brochures.[4]

You see, I believe people want something more out of life than even happiness. I believe people want to be part of something greater than their own lives. As disciples of Jesus Christ, we are called by Christ to deny ourselves and follow him. We are invited to be part of something that is greater than even our own lives – to love God, to love Christ, to love others – even our enemies – and to pray for them, to serve, to be peacemakers, to build others up in Christ and not destroy.

This is what we have been baptized into. This is our identity. This is who we are. At least this is what we claim. So in this Lenten season, we each are compelled to ask, “Our Father who art in heaven, how will I be my name? “

Amen!