Paul Walker, “The Final Word”
Today I am going to talk about Jesus Christ. This being church, that may not come as a huge surprise. But, when else do we talk about Jesus? People say his name quite a bit when shocked or angry, but that’s not really the same thing. Do people still say grace before dinner? If they do, they may end their prayer in Jesus’ name. Growing up, our family grace was “GraciousLordmakeustrulythankfulfortheseandallthymanyblessingsforChrist’ssakeamen.”
That was all the airtime Christ got in our family outside of once-a-month church attendance. At Christmas, we talk quite a bit about the Baby Jesus, but rarely does the grown-up Jesus figure into regular conversation. I’m not saying whether this is a good thing or a bad thing; I’m just saying.
When people face death, Jesus often breaks into the conversation. I’m listening to an Agatha Christie mystery in which the rector of a parish, who happens to be 60 years old, is invited to a dinner party. As he sips on the dry martini he is served, he chokes, turns purple and dies. A 60-year-old rector with a fondness for dry martinis drops dead. Makes a person think.
In today’s gospel reading, however, Jesus asks a question about Himself that elicits a response. He asks His disciples, “Who do people say that I am?” And after their answers, He asks even more pointedly, “And who do you say that I am?” Jesus wants the conversation to be centered on Himself. Their propinquity to Jesus isn’t enough. Does their proximity to Him result in the confession of His true identity?
So what has happened heretofore? Jesus had made a big splash with his feeding the 5000, walking on water, and stilling a storm at sea. Not to mention all the people that he had healed right on the spot with a single touch or a commanding word. Word on the street was that if you had any kind of demon or affliction or disease, you could just go to Jesus and be cured. There was even a rumor that he had raised a little girl from the dead!
But, he’d also done some really bizarre things, like breaking the laws of the sabbath and the laws of ritual purity. He taught in the synagogues, but he didn’t sound like the other religious fellows. In fact, he seemed to be always at odd with them. Apparently, he didn’t hold back when it came to parties and feasts and wine. People even said he was a drunkard and a glutton! For that matter, he hung out with the wrong sorts of people – bad people, the kind of people your mother told you to stay away from.
People sure didn’t stay away from him, though. Just the opposite. People flocked to him. And not just to be healed, but to hear him talk. He had a way of talking right to your heart. Of seeing right through you in a way that made you feel both naked and yet safe at the same time. When you were near him, it was like you didn’t have to pretend anymore. You could even stop pretending to yourself. The long and the short of it was that there had never been anyone like him before.
Of course, Jesus is aware of the stir he’d caused, so that’s why he asks his disciples, “Who do people say that I am?” The people throw out some wild guesses – John the Baptist (who’d had his head chopped off by this point, so that was unlikely), Elijah (he’d been transported to heaven in a whirlwind, so maybe he had come back in the form of Jesus?). People may not have known exactly who Jesus was, but they did know that they wanted to be near him.
We still misidentify Jesus, don’t we. Check out DZ’s fabulous Adult Ed class on Christology today to help navigate this pitfall. People still get Him confused with John the Baptist every time we think God is a naysayer hell-bound on telling us what we can’t do to, spoiling all the fun of life. And we still confuse Him with Elijah – who performed his own miracles in the Old Testament – whenever we want Jesus to perform a miracle for us – from heal our cancer to find us a parking space.
To be clear, the important question isn’t “who do people say that I am?” rather than “who do people say that I am.” In other words, it is only of secondary importance what your parents, your friends, your teachers, and your preachers say about me. It is only of secondary importance what you read in books about me or hear in lectures about Me. or conjure up in your own head about me. What is of the utmost importance is this: Who do you say that I am?
This is where the evangelical wing of our church rightly reminds us that Christianity is not religion. At its core, it is simply relationship – relationship with Jesus Christ. And who is Jesus? Peter answers the question – “You are the Messiah.” Messiah literally means “the anointed one.” He is the One that we’ve all been waiting for. Not the Law-wielding John the Baptist. Not Elijah, meting out miracles. But the Messiah, the Savior. Jesus is the Savior.
Peter’s answer is important. And your answer to that question is important. The peace that flows into your heart when you confess Christ as your Savior is palpable, powerful, and penetrating. The bond you have with other Christians is real – other affinity groups can’t hold a candle to the fellowship of sinners who love their Savior. It’s profoundly moving to sing Christmas carols and mean them. It is unspeakably comforting to face your death knowing you have a Savior awaiting you.
So, your answer to “Who do you say that I am” is of utmost importance. But what is even more important is not what you say to Jesus, but rather what Jesus says about you. In another place Jesus says to the disciples, and thus to you, “You did not choose Me. I chose you.” And maybe what is most important is what Jesus says to God the Father about you as he hangs from the cross as a sacrifice for our sins. “Father, forgive them for they know not what they do.”
Amid all the talk, the Word has been made flesh and has dwelt among us. And out of His fullness we have received grace upon grace. After all the talk, God has the final word, and that word is grace.
Amen.