Lent 2B
February 19, 2024
Mark 8:31-38
INTRODUCTION
Today’s series theme is “Expectant Joy.” What I hear in that, just below the surface is, “Joy is coming, but it’s not yet fully here.” There is excitement and hope in that, but also some growing pains in the waiting, and we will see that in our readings.
We’ll hear the Abrahamic covenant today, in which God tells Abraham, who is 99 years old, that he and his spritely 90-year-old wife, Sarah, will be father and mother of a great nation, even though they have until now been barren. Paul will tell us in our reading from Romans how remarkable Abraham’s faith in this covenant is.
Our Gospel reading benefits from a bit of context. Just before this, Jesus has asked his disciples to declare who they believe him to be. Peter rightly responds, “You’re the Messiah.” This is a powerful title: the Messiah, the anointed one, was expected to be a kingly ruler who would overcome the current political powers, beat back the oppressive Empire, and restore Israel. Yet back at the beginning of Mark, Mark told us that Jesus is not only Messiah, but also the Son of God – and that latter title implies a necessary path of suffering. See, Peter only got it half right… and when Jesus goes on, in today’s part of the story, to describe the son of God part, Peter feels pretty freaked out by that (what kind of Messiah suffers??). Peter wanted the joy at the end, but the journey to get there was less appealing! (Which I can totally understand!)
As you listen, recall a time when you experienced expectant joy – you knew something better was coming, but that the road getting there would be difficult – and find what good news there might be here for such a time. Let’s listen.
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Grace to you and peace from God our Father and our Lord Jesus Christ. Amen.
Last week, those who stayed after worship got to hear Pastor Imani Olear present the results of our Congregational Vitality Assessment. If you couldn’t be there, I hope you had a chance to look at the results, or better yet, watch the recording of the presentation, both of which were linked in the Monday email this past week.
The gist was that we are strong and vibrant in a lot of areas, which is great! But, there were also a lot of areas in which people answered more apathetically, checking the box (usually the second listed answer, if you remember filling it out) that basically says, “Yeah, we kind of do that.” Not bad, just not a lot of excitement about it. Several of these areas, Pastor Imani pointed out, had to do with a sense of belonging and participation and a feeling of mutual ownership of our ministry together. She asked some questions like, “What creates a sense of belonging? How did Jesus create belonging? How do you establish connection, and create trust?”
I have been mulling over these questions all week, and that word, belonging, has been especially loud in my mind. I love the work of Brené Brown, who is a researcher on shame, vulnerability, connection, and courage. She distinguishes between belonging and fitting in. In her wonderful book, Daring Greatly, she writes, “Fitting in and belonging are not the same thing. In fact, fitting in is one of the greatest barriers to belonging. Fitting in is about assessing a situation and becoming who you need to be in order to be accepted. Belonging, on the other hand, doesn’t require us to change who we are; it requires us to be who we are.” I’ll say that last part again: belonging doesn’t require us to change who we are; it requires us to be who we are.
In a world so full of expectations, there are not a lot of places that allow the gift of true belonging. Hopefully our families, though not always. Perhaps a few close friends. Wouldn’t it be wonderful, if church, and specifically this church, were one of those places of belonging – not just for you or me, but for anyone who walks through the door? If people could walk in and feel like wherever they are in their understanding of God, or their knowledge of the Bible, whatever messiness is going on or has gone in their lives, however disruptive their kids are, or what they are wearing… no matter what, that they, you, we, and all the brokenness and gifts we bring, belong in this place? Is this a place where people feel not only welcomed, but also known, included, supported, and connected?
With all this still buzzing in my mind, I took a look at this week’s texts. At first look, I admit, this passage from Mark does not say “belonging” to me. The opposite, in fact – it sounds exclusive, setting the bar impossibly high for discipleship. “Deny yourself,” Jesus says, “And take up your cross. Lose your life if you want to keep it. Don’t set your mind on human things, but divine things.” That’s a tall order!
And yet, I believe in my heart that belonging is something so foundational to the Gospel. God says it in Isaiah: “I love you. You are mine.” Jesus identifies himself as the shepherd, and we as the sheep who belong to his flock. Paul says we are all members of one body. And we say it in baptism: “you belong to Christ.” And so surely Jesus’ statement here – one of his most famous teachings – cannot be contrary to all that!
So let’s look at this difficult teaching and see what we can make of it. The most problematic bit for me is this: “deny yourself.” At face value, that sounds like the opposite of Brené Brown’s definition, that to belong means to be entirely yourself, and still be accepted. But what if what Jesus says here is not to deny who you truly are, but to deny the “self” that we put out to the world. To lay aside our masks. To be real, raw, and authentic, so that we can be truly known and make meaningful connections, and so we might then be ready to receive God’s grace, mercy, and love? Deny that self, that armor – lose it, in fact – and follow Jesus.
Michael and I are watching a drama-comedy on Netflix called Loudermilk, about an addiction counselor who’s got a brash style, and yet manages to create this quirky, beautiful community of recovering addicts. The viewer gets to drop in on their meetings each episode, as well as see some of the struggles some of them deal with in between. There is a real beauty in it – these broken individuals, sharing their broken hearts with each other, and holding each other accountable with honesty and understanding (if not always kindness!), and even finding some joy in each other’s presence. They come exactly as they are, raw and messed up, deeply desiring a change and yet unsure exactly how to get there. When someone new comes to the group, they are greeted, welcomed, shown a seat, given coffee, invited to share, and found a sponsor to walk with them on their journey. Honestly, the church could learn a thing or two from this kind of community!
Not that it is an easy path, of course, which the show portrays well. If there is expectant joy in this room of addicts, it is definitely more expectant than joy at this point – there is no glossing over the hard work of recovery! But their efforts show that the process of recovery is a process of denying themselves – denying those destructive patterns and mindsets, and their habitual coverup of them – in order to find new life. And yet, wherever they are in their process, they are accepted – welcomed, known, included, supported and connected. In short, each person who walks in the door belongs, and is encouraged in their journey toward a new way of living.
Just because we belong somewhere, you see, that doesn’t mean that we are off the hook and can just stay the same. It means we recognize the current reality for what it is, even as we hold and support one another in our mutual effort to be the best we can be. This is another thing you see in recovery programs: the first important step toward turning away from destruction and toward new life is accepting that you have a problem that needs addressing – that there is something that needs to be lost, needs to die, in order for new life to be found. Or in Christian terms, something we need to leave behind if we want to follow Jesus’ difficult but life-giving path. And, we are absolutely loved, cared for, supported, and connected as we make those difficult changes. That is what it is to belong – to a church community, yes, but more broadly, to Christ.
And difficult though that path may be, there is expectant joy in it, because we know the path leads ultimately to resurrection. Jesus’ suffering and death, that he describes and Peter rebukes, must happen to break the power of sin and death. Expectant joy comes from the assurance of the resurrection that follows. It cannot come without the suffering; in order to rise, Jesus must first fall. In order to resurrect, he must first die.
Resist it though we may, this is also true for us. Something in us must die. The expectant joy of that experience, is to look toward the resurrection to come. The new life – sobriety, restored relationships, hope, peace, opportunity, safety. These are the “divine things” we cannot fathom as long as we continue to walk in the “human things” of our old, destructive ways.
So let us, then, deny ourselves, my friends. Let us walk the difficult path, leaving behind our baggage, our guilt, our regrets. Empowered by the expectant joy Christ has promised and shown us, let us walk together in newness of life, for we do belong to one another, and to God.
Let us pray… God of expectant joy, we wish we could get to the joy part without having to go through the loss part. Yet you have shown us that after death comes life. Encourage us, that we could deny our false selves, lose our lives, and follow you. In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen.
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