Sermon: Out of Death Comes Life (Sept. 16, 2012)

Pentecost 16B

Sept. 16, 2012

Mark 8:27-38

Grace to you and peace from God our Father and our Lord Jesus Christ. Amen.

            “I have decided to follow Jesus, I have decided to follow Jesus, I have decided to follow Jesus. No turning back. No turning back.” It’s a sweet, simple song, one I learned as a kid and maybe some of you did, too. There are some theological concerns about it for Lutherans – do we really decide to follow Jesus, or does Jesus choose us in baptism and we respond – but at the end of the day, it goes pretty well with today’s Gospel lesson, in which Jesus lays out what it really means to follow him, in some of the more famous words of the Gospels: “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.”

            Imagine how shocking this must have been to hear for Jesus’ disciples. Here they have given up everything to follow Jesus, and now Jesus is upping the ante: deny yourself, take up your cross, and follow me. Take up your instrument of torture and public humiliation and follow me. Youch! Do you still want to decide to follow Jesus, no turning back, no turning back?

            Well, before we throw in the towel, let’s look more carefully at what this might mean. First, Jesus says that those who want to follow him must “deny themselves.” This seems to go against the grain in a culture that rightly urges children and adults alike to, “Just be yourself!” But when Jesus says to “deny yourself,” he does not mean to be someone other than who you are. Scripture and the whole of Christian theology are very clear that each of us was endowed with unique and wonderful gifts, and we should by no means deny those gifts or what we have to offer this world. Rather, what Jesus is urging his followers to do is to separate ourselves from those external things that try to define us: our culture, our ethnicity, our socioeconomic status. People in Jesus’ time were most often defined or identified by the family to which they belonged. But here Jesus tells us to deny what we are “supposed” to be, and live into a new identity: as children of God and followers of the Messiah. Self-denial for Jesus is not self-annihilation; it is complete redefinition.

            Next, Jesus urges followers to take up their cross and follow him. Let’s be clear – Jesus is not advocating for us to just grin and bear it when we are suffering or victimized. Too often this text has been used flippantly: “That’s just your cross to bear.” But Jesus has spent the previous seven chapters alleviating unnecessary suffering – healing the sick, casting out demons, feeding the hungry. This sort of suffering is not ordained by God. But Jesus is talking about a sort of suffering that comes with being his disciple, and that is the persecution that sometimes comes along with that gig. Being a follower of Jesus is counter-cultural. You don’t always fit in. We are blessed to live in a country that allows for religious freedom, so the level of persecution isn’t the same as what the early Christians faced. But there is some level of suffering that comes from living the life that Christ calls us to – because that life is really hard!

            And finally, Jesus says that those who lose their life for his sake and for the sake of the gospel will save it. This part has taken on an especially poignant meaning for me this week. This is such a compelling concept, and one so central to the Christian faith – that when life is lost, life is saved. It is, of course, the story of resurrection, in which life was lost on Good Friday, and eternal and abundant life was found on Easter morning. But it is a story that is central to our lives all the time, even apart from Lent and the Easter season. Let me tell you a couple stories I have heard or experienced in the past couple weeks.

            This morning, in a congregational meeting following worship, Peace Lutheran Church of Rochester will vote to close their doors. After a long decline, they no longer have the membership to sustain themselves. It’s a devastating time, to have to close the doors of a beloved church – a church where you and your children were married, children and grandchildren baptized, where you thought someday your funeral would be. It is a death in every sense, and I’m sure the faithful members of Peace will grieve that loss in the months to come. It is, for them, Good Friday.

            But here is Easter morning: this week, a young man named Matthew was ordained to the ministry of Word and Sacrament, and has been called to serve what is being called the South Wedge Mission. It has become clear that there is a great need there, and Matthew has been charged with the call to hear the needs of that community, to respond to the movement of the Spirit in that place, and to drum up interest for this new church. I had a chance to hear from Matthew this week about the work that has already been done, and it is very exciting! Part of the vote at Peace Church today will be to give all of their assets to this new mission start. Out of the death of a church, new life arises. Where that life will go or what it will become is an unknown at this point – all we know is that God has it in hand, that Christ is present in it, and that the Spirit is guiding it.

            Here’s another story. When I was 15, I was diagnosed with Hodgkin’s Lymphoma. Although I did my best to still be a normal teenager, a lot of my high school time was affected by this – you might say I lost my life as a normal teenager. On the other hand, the blessings and wisdom that came from that experience are innumerable, and I wouldn’t be the person I am today without having had that experience. The next part of that story, of course, you are aware of – that recently I was diagnosed with cancer again, this time as one of the long-term side effects of my radiation treatments 13 years ago. It has been a difficult few weeks, knowing that a killer lives inside me, knowing that I may lose my breast in an effort to get rid of that killer, knowing that my life as a healthy 29-year-old at the beginning of her career, and about to be married and start a family, has been, in some way, lost. It’s Good Friday.

            But here is Easter morning: nearly every day I am surprised by some contact I make as a result of this “death.” People I haven’t talked to in years, who I didn’t even think know who I am, have reached out to me and expressed their appreciation for my faith and my spirit. People who have called me and my story an inspiration. I’m able to relate to people in deeper ways, building new relationships. I have been keeping a blog of this experience – I post reflections during the week and sermons on Sunday. I expected it to reach my close family and friends, but in the couple weeks I’ve been keeping it, I have had over 2200 views! It has become a way to share my story and my faith with people who otherwise would not hear it. I have made even more unexpected connections, and built more relationships, and become even more acutely aware of our Triune God who is a God of relationship. My relationship with God has deepened immensely these few weeks, as has my relationship to my friends and family, my relationship with all of you, and my relationship to the world. What life!

            What about you? What are your stories of deaths, and what is the life that has come from them? Perhaps you are experiencing a death right now – a kid gone off to college, a loved one off to war, a broken relationship, a breach of trust. Even good things can be deaths – I’m getting married soon, and will experience a death of life as I know it, life as a single woman, life living alone. What is your story? …

            And while we can’t always see the big picture in the midst of things, what is the life, the resurrection, that you have experienced by losing some part of your life as you know it? How is God using death to bring about life in you?

            Friends, our faith is one of resurrection, but resurrection cannot come until something has died, until we have lost our lives for Christ’s sake and for the sake of the Gospel. Until we have denied ourselves, and taken up our crosses. Until we have given up the identity the world gave us and taken on the identity that Christ gives us: as beloved children of God. But when resurrection does come, we shall indeed have life, and have it abundantly.

            Let us pray. God of life, you have endowed us with many good things, but we also face many challenges in our lives, many denials and brokenness and deaths. Help us to see that in you, death is always followed by resurrection. Grant us the courage to believe this, in the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen.