On the Way

This sermon was preached at Glenwood and Canoe Ridge Lutheran Churches, Decorah, Iowa, on September 16, 2018. It’s based on Mark 8:27-38. If you’d prefer to listen to it, find it at https://soundcloud.com/stacey-nalean-carlson.

Mark 8:27-38

²⁷Jesus went on with his disciples to the villages of Caesarea Philippi; and on the way he asked his disciples, “Who do people say that I am?” ²⁸And they answered him, “John the Baptist; and others, Elijah; and still others, one of the prophets.” ²⁹He asked them, “But who do you say that I am?” Peter answered him, “You are the Messiah.” ³⁰And he sternly ordered them not to tell anyone about him.

³¹Then he began to teach them that the Son of Man must undergo great suffering, and be rejected by the elders, the chief priests, and the scribes, and be killed, and after three days rise again. ³²He said all this quite openly. And Peter took him aside and began to rebuke him. ³³But turning and looking at his disciples, he rebuked Peter and said, “Get behind me, Satan! For you are setting your mind not on divine things but on human things.”

³⁴He called the crowd with his disciples, and said to them, “If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me. ³⁵For 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. ³⁶For what will it profit them to gain the whole world and forfeit their life? ³⁷Indeed, what can they give in return for their life? ³⁸Those who are ashamed of me and of my words in this adulterous and sinful generation, of them the Son of Man will also be ashamed when he comes in the glory of his Father with the holy angels.”

Jesus went on with his disciples to the villages of Caesarea Philippi; and on the way he asked his disciples, “Who do people say that I am?”

On the way.

They had just been in Bethsaida, near the Sea of Galilee—a place familiar to them, a place that would have felt like home. Indeed, Bethsaida was home to at least three of Jesus’ disciples: Peter, Andrew, and Phillip. And along with two other nearby cities on the northwestern end of the Sea of Galilee, Bethsaida formed what has been called the “evangelical triangle,” within which approximately 80% of Jesus’ public ministry was exercised.¹

But now Jesus is leading them to the villages of Caesarea Philippi, a place some describe as similar to Las Vegas.² It was something of a royal resort and administration center. Philip, son of King Herod (the Roman ally who was so very threatened by the birth of Jesus), inherited this land when his father died, and built the capital city, naming it Caesarea Philippi to honor Caesar.³ This is not a place Jesus regularly went with his disciples; in fact, this is probably the only time they went there together.

It is on the way to this unfamiliar place—a place potentially inhospitable to their Jewish faith and their deeply held values, a place that was likely intimidating and perhaps even frightening, a place where they would have felt out of place and not at home—that Jesus asks them, Who do people say that I am? Who do you say that I am?

From what I can discern, Bethsaida, on the Sea of Galilee, was at an elevation of approximately 20 feet above sea level. Caesarea Philippi, at the base of Mount Hermon, was 1,150 feet above sea level. If you plug these numbers into a hike difficulty calculator (elevation gain of 1,130 feet over the course of 25 miles), it tells you this hike is going to be very difficult. Not easy, not moderate, not challenging, not even difficult, but very difficult.

How would the disciples have answered Jesus’ questions if they were at home, comfortable, secure?

Could Peter have identified Jesus as the Messiah apart from this very difficult journey?

Could Peter have known Jesus to be this world’s long-awaited Savior if he hadn’t experienced Jesus beside him on this marathon uphill climb?

Was this particular journey designed to demonstrate to the disciples just what it would be like as followers of Jesus? As followers of this Messiah for whom they had waited with expectant hope? As followers of this one they had prayed would end Roman occupation, be a powerful earthly king, make their lives better?

Jesus uses this moment to tell them—to demonstrate to them—that on the way with him does not look like how they hoped it would look. Instead, it means being on a very difficult uphill climb that leads to suffering, rejection, and even the most unbearable loss, all for the sake of love.

Jesus lived and died for the sake of love, unwilling to rest until this beloved world understood the full measure of God’s abiding love for us all. And we who follow him, we who dare to love as we have been loved, can anticipate suffering, and rejection, and deepest sorrow.

To love is to have your heart broken.

How much of our lives are spent on the way from Bethsaida to Caesarea Philippi? There are moments of comfort and stability, but if we are committed to growing in faith, and following Jesus, and loving as God calls us to love, far more of our lives will be spent on the way, on a very difficult uphill climb, venturing toward an unfamiliar future. Uncomfortable, anxious, weary.

So who do we say Jesus is, for us, on the way? With our lives, who do we say Jesus is, for the world, on this dusty road between the sea and the spring?

When they arrived at Caesarea Philippi, the disciples would have seen a rock cliff, with a cave, and an abundant spring of clear, fresh water flowing toward the Jordan River, the most important source of water in the whole region, the river in which Jesus was baptized and named beloved of God. Jesus told his disciples, on the way, The Son of Man must undergo great suffering, and be rejected by the elders, the chief priests, and the scribes, and be killed, and after three days rise again.

The final destination is not death. It is not suffering. It is not sorrow. The very difficult uphill climb of living as a follower of Jesus and loving as God calls us to love, leads through heartbreak to joy, through death to resurrection.

On the way, we experience firsthand the God who draws near to bind up the wounds of the broken-hearted. On the way, we experience firsthand that it is precisely when we are most defeated that God is most powerfully present with us. On the way, we trust that the beginning and the end, is fresh water in abundance, springs of water gushing up to eternal life, water in which we are buried with Christ so that we might be raised with Christ.

On Tuesday of this week, after I had gathered with area pastors to consider this week’s biblical texts, I spent some time on a trail. It was September 11, so I had those scenes of unbelievable devastation but also great courage and compassion, filling my head alongside these scripture readings. And what emerged for me, on the way, was a song—a tune and a text that has been gospel to me this week.

You have the words in front of you on your bulletin insert. I didn’t trust myself to play the piano for you today, so I recorded the song in advance. I’m going to play it now. I’ll sing along the first time, and then I’ll play it a second time and invite you to sing as well.

May it be our prayer to the one who leads us on this uphill climb and promises to see us through this dusty heartbreak to abundant, flowing life.

You Sustain the Weary with a Word⁴

Sun-draped trees stretch toward your hand.

The river knows its way to you.

The bluffs rise up to frame your sky.

The wind proclaims your love is true.

Refrain

You sustain the weary with a word,

climb beside us on the uphill way,

speak peace into our anxious hearts,

breathe life into this wounded clay.

Sorrow softens at your voice.