There’s the story of a soldier frantically digging in during battle as shells fall all around him. Suddenly his hand feels something metal and he grabs it. It’s a silver cross. Another shell explodes and he buries his head in his arms. He feels someone jump in the foxhole with him and he looks over and sees an army chaplain. The soldier thrusts the cross in the chaplain’s face and says, “I sure am glad to see you. How do you work this thing?”
In this morning’s scripture when Jesus talks about bearing our cross, we could ask the same question: “How do you work this thing?” Peter, and God love him, didn’t know how to work or deal with the cross either. It has been said that the only reason Peter ever took his foot out of his mouth was to switch feet; but it is here, at Caesarea Philippi, outside of Galilee in the shadow of Ancient Palestine, where Caesar was a God, that Peter discovered that a wandering teacher from Nazareth, who was heading for a cross, was the Son of God.
There is hardly anything in the entire gospel story, which shows the sheer force of the personality of Jesus, as does this incident. It comes in the very middle of Mark’s Gospel and that’s intentional, because this is the peak moment for Mark. The cross is the very heart of the gospel.
In one way, this moment was a crisis for Jesus. Whatever the disciples might be thinking, he knew for certain that an inescapable cross lay ahead. The problem confronting Jesus was this: With the cross looming, had he had any effect at all? Had he achieved anything? Had anyone discovered who he really was? If he had lived and taught and moved amongst these men for three years and no one had glimpsed the spirit of God upon him, then all his work had gone for nothing. There was only one way he could leave a message with people and that was to write it on someone’s heart.
In this moment, Jesus put all things to the test. He asked his disciples what people were saying about him, and they shared with him the popular rumors and reports. Then came a breathless silence and he put forth the question that meant so much: “Who do you say that I am?”
Suddenly, Peter realized what he had always known deep down in his heart. This was the Messiah, the Christ, the Anointed One, the Son of God. And with that answer Jesus knew that he had affected people and made clear who he was.
But there is another question we must answer, for no sooner had Peter made this incredible proclamation than Jesus told him he must tell no one. Why? Why could they tell no one who Jesus was? First and foremost, Jesus had to teach Peter and the others what Messiahship really meant, because Jesus’ role as Messiah stood in stark contrast to the first century Jewish ideas of Messiah.
Throughout their existence the Jews never lost sight of the fact that they were God’s chosen people. They always regarded the greatest days in their history as the days of King David, and they dreamed of a day when there would arise another king of David’s line, a king who would once again make them great in righteousness and in power.
As time went on, it became clear that this dreamed-of greatness would never come about naturally through the passage of time, for they came under Assyrian rule and Babylonian rule and Persian rule and Greek rule and Roman rule. They began to believe that it wasn’t likely that someone would simply emerge politically. More and more they began to dream of a day when God would intervene in history and unveil the Messiah. They had dreams of a Messiah being ushered in by God in a nationalistic, conquering style, in which the perfect reign of God would come about through a great military struggle.
This was the Jewish belief. This was the disciples’ belief, so the idea that Jesus would be a suffering Messiah was the complete opposite of what they expected. It would be like my announcing on a Sunday morning that we’re no longer a Baptist church, but will now be a Jewish synagogue. Jesus as a suffering Messiah was that foreign of an idea to them.
With this as our backdrop, Peter starts with the right idea: “You are the Messiah,” but when Jesus explains how that translates into everyday life, how that translates into a suffering Messiah and not a military ruler, Peter takes Jesus aside and scolds him. “No way will our great Messiah die.” This is why Jesus looks at his good friend, his star pupil who has just announced Jesus’ Messiahship and says sharply, “Get behind me, Satan.”
The Messiah that Jesus was prepared to be was not what they were expecting. How many of you have had the same experience, where at some point during your faith journey, you didn’t meet the Messiah you expected? I dare say there are probably not too many people here this morning who have not at one time or another said, “This is not what I signed up for. This is not what I expected from my Lord and Savior.” That’s exactly why Jesus laid it out as plainly as he could: “If any want to become my follower, deny yourself, take up your cross, and follow me.”
The more I read, the more I study, the more I try to deepen my relationship with God, the more I realize how free we really are; how completely and unashamedly God leaves it up to us, never manipulating us. Brian Gillispie freely made the decision a few weeks ago to enter the waters of baptism, which he did this morning. In doing so, he’s saying to us all, “I’m willing to deny myself, pick up my cross, and follow you.”
When we accept the graceful forgiveness of our Lord and Savior, and he welcomes us with open arms, we are accepting the burden of the cross. Take note of Jesus’ first description of what it means to follow him: “Deny yourself.”
Perhaps you’ve heard the story of two young brothers who come downstairs for breakfast on a Saturday morning, and their mother’s cooking pancakes. She’s starting to pull them off the griddle when the boys start arguing about who’s going to eat first. Their mother seizes this teachable moment and says, “Now boys, what would Jesus say if he were here?” They stopped, looked a little confused, and then their mother says, “Jesus would say, “My brother, you have the first pancake. I’ll wait.” The older brother looks at the younger brother and says, “Hey John, you be Jesus.”
Self-denial is not easy. We all have things we want. We all have goals, but Christ is clear that when we choose to freely follow him, we must first deny ourselves. That means you can’t always do what you want to do, what your natural tendency is. This means that you will face tough, life-changing decisions that need to be made in the shadow of the cross, and not the desires of the heart. This doesn’t mean that you’ll be deprived of joy and happiness; rather it means that you find fulfillment and joy and happiness through dedication to Jesus Christ. Denial of self is placing yourself in the hands of God at all times, no matter where his hands might lead you.
Jesus also said, “Take up your cross.” In other words, pick it up yourself. He didn’t say, “Grab hold of a cross to provide protection.” He didn’t say, “Wear this cross as a fashion statement.” He said, “Pick it up.” This means that there is a choice. Christ had a choice as to whether he was going to pick up his cross. He could’ve said “No,” and we have a choice whether to pick ours up and bear our cross.
But what does it mean to bear your cross? Let’s first consider what bearing your cross is not. When facing difficult circumstance, people often say, “I guess that’s a cross I have to bear,” generally with a poor-pitiful-me tone of voice. That is not bearing your cross. When people speak about bearing a cross in this manner, they’re speaking about circumstances and situations that, given the choice, they wouldn’t choose it. What they should say is they understand their situation and will now deal with it. I don’t say this to make light of the unfortunate and tragic situations we find ourselves in, but it’s just not bearing a cross. When we suffer from sickness, disease, and mental anguish, it’s a horrible misfortune, but it’s not bearing a cross.
Bearing the cross is a choice. It is a voluntary form of sacrificial obedience that identifies us completely with Jesus Christ. Bearing our cross is not making the best of a situation or circumstance. It is something we deliberately take up and bear. We don’t usually like that, for we would rather wear a cross than bear a cross.
Rene Lacoste was the world’s top tennis player in the late 1920s. He won seven major singles titles during his career, including multiple victories at Wimbledon, the US Open, and the French Open. His friends called him “Le Crocodile,” an apt term for his tenacious play on the tennis court.
Lacoste accepted the nickname and had a tiny crocodile embroidered on his tennis blazers. When he added it to a line of shirts he designed, the symbol caught on. While thousands of people around the world wore “alligator shirts,” the emblem always had a deeper significance for Lacoste’s friends who knew of its origin and meaning.
The cross is an emblem of Christianity that holds special meaning for every one of us who identify with Jesus Christ. Whenever we see a cross, it speaks to us of Christ’s tenacious determination to do His Father’s will by dying for us on Calvary. The cross is all about making a choice. The cross is about discipline, hard work, obedience, and commitment. It isn’t easy, but it draws us closer to Christ and makes us more Christ-like, for never has a symbol of such pain and torture been resurrected into a symbol of ending love and hope.
If anyone wants to be a follower of Jesus Christ, let them deny themselves, take up their cross, and follow him. Amen.
