The Story Chapter 25 - Jesus The Son of God

It was a big old battered book, with thick black tape holding the spine together. The cover was dark blue, and the gold lettering on the front had grown dull with age. It even smelled old.

But I loved that book more than any other as a child, because its colourful pages opened up another world to me. And I still carry some of those images in my mind’s eye, even to this day.

 

Strong Adam and beautiful Eve in the garden jungle; Noah, building his ark in the middle of a field as the neighbours look on incredulously. Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego walking unharmed through the fiery furnace that was meant to kill them, faces uplifted in prayer.

 

And flipping over into the New Testament there was Jesus, of course. Sallow faced, golden haired Jesus, in his pristine white and blue robes. Surrounded by happy children of suspiciously diverse nationalities in the days before air travel! Always the centre of the scene. Always in control.

I’m glad that those images have stayed with me, and if I hadn’t been drawn into that simplistic but wonderful world, I probably wouldn’t be here in this capacity today.

But of course, they’re just a starting place, and as adults each one of us has to make our own journey into the truth. We have to try and discover the real Jesus, of whom this pale Galilean is just a shadow.

Who do people say that I am? Jesus asks his disciples in this morning’s reading.

And it’s fairly easy for them to answer that. They just report what the crowds have been saying. Some think you’re John the Baptist, Elijah, one of the prophets.

And I imagine a heartbeat of non-committal silence on Jesus part after all those suggestions come tumbling out. And then he hits them with it. “And what about you? Who do you say I am?”. And with that, there’s no place left to hide.

Who do you say that I am?

The church still needs to hear that question. The church still needs to answer that question. And the church, of course, is just another way of saying you and me.

Who do you say that I am? It’s one of the most important questions you’ll ever be asked. Have you ever thought about it? If not, maybe it’s time you did.

We’re the ones supposed to be bringing the good news of Jesus Christ to the world. Can’t do that unless we’ve a grasp on who he is, and what he did, and the difference he’s made to our lives.

Who is this man, Jesus?  What did he come to do?

Crucial questions for all of us to be grappling with.

At the height of the enlightenment at the end of the 19^th century, a group of learned theologians – most of them German or French - decided it was time to start treating the Bible purely as an historical document rather than a holy book, and they set about a project of de-mythologising the Scriptures. Anything that couldn’t be explained according to reason and science had to go. In their view, the modern mind demanded nothing less.

And various scholars did just that with the gospels, setting out on what became known as the First Quest for the Historical Jesus which always sounded like the title of a Monty Python film to me.

They pored over the gospels, editing out everything in the text that smacked of the supernatural. They felt like they were restoring a great piece of artwork, dabbing away at the accumulated grime of the centuries to reveal the true picture of Jesus underneath

In practice, the versions of Jesus they uncovered were almost always poor, anaemic copies of themselves.

One of their contemporaries, Albert Schweitzer, wrote that these scholars were like people peering down into a deep well and seeing only their own reflection.

If we want to know who Jesus was, and why he came, we have to let him speak for himself. But even we in the church can’t resist putting our own spin on things. Focusing on the parts of Jesus’ story we happen to like or agree with, and skimming over the rest.

Ask different folk, inside and outside the church, who Jesus was and why he came and you’ll get different answers.

Some will want to focus on his miracles. That’s why he came, they’ll say.  To demonstrate the power of God. And if the church is faithful, then miracles should follow for us too.

Well, Jesus’ ministry was certainly peppered with the miraculous, but the healings and exorcisms were never an end in themselves. His vocation wasn’t to be a one-man NHS as he toured about the country. He healed those who, in faith, came looking for him. But I can’t think of a single instance when he went looking for folk to heal.

Early in Mark’s gospel Jesus has an astounding evening where all kinds of folk are brought to him for healing and exorcisms and he helps every one of them. But then he takes himself off to pray early the next morning. As far as we know, the need is still there, “Everyone is looking for you” the disciples tell him when he returns. But Jesus says  “Let us go somewhere else—to the nearby villages—so that I can preach there also. That is why I have come.”  The miracles were a sign of his authority, proving that his teaching should be listened to, but they were never an end in themselves.

In places, Jesus gets angry with the people because they were clamouring for miracles, and in one devastating teaching he says that many will say to God on the last day – Lord, didn’t we prophesy in your name, and in your name drive our demons and perform miracles?” And Christ will say to them – “I never knew you”.

Miracles aren’t always proof of authenticity. And Jesus’ miracles were never the main focus of his ministry.

And nor, dare I say it, was his teaching. It was crucially important, yes, but it’s still not the main focus. To reduce Jesus to the status of a great moral teacher, as many do, is to miss the point by some distance.

He gave us parables we’re still learning from, centuries later. He mapped out a way of living in the Sermon on the Mount that could literally change the world if people took it seriously.

But unlike other teachers, Jesus pointed to himself in much of his teaching. And we’ve become so familiar with the kinds of things he said, we lose the impact they’d have had on their original hearers. The kind of things Jesus said were breathtakingly arrogant, were he not the Son of God incarnate.

So he stands up at the Feast of the Tabernacles and shouts “Let anyone who is thirsty come to me and drink. Whoever believes in me, as Scripture has said, rivers of living water will flow from within them.” Pointing to himself.

I am the resurrection and the life. I am the light of the world. I am the Good Shepherd. I am the way, the truth and the life. Pointing to himself.

He who has seen me has seen the Father. In other words, if you want to know what God’s like, take a look at me. Pointing to himself.

And on one occasion that really got the religious leaders furious he claimed to have existed before their ancestor Abraham. “I tell you the truth,” he said, “before Abraham was, I AM”. And that might seem a strange choice of words until you realise that I AM, Ego Eimi was the Greek form of the divine name – too holy to say or even write. Jesus was taking that name upon himself.  The Jewish leaders picked up stones to kill him because they knew this was nothing less than a claim to divinity.

Great teaching, yes. But the real focus isn’t on the teachings, but on the identity of the teacher. We can’t admire the truth of Jesus’ teachings and then go on to ignore everything that he has to say about himself. That’s what the secular world tries to do with Jesus. But he won’t let them do it! His teaching and his person go together.

Why did he come? Wasn’t to be a miracle worker, or a great moral teacher.

And nor was it to be an all-round good guy. Hugging children, feeding the poor, standing up against injustice, striking a blow for the common man.

There was no shortage of folk, then and now, wanting to co-opt Jesus for their particular cause. Come and liberate the poor, Jesus! Come and get rid of the Romans. Will you give us a half hour spot on national television about the importance of family values?

And he did feed the poor, on several occasions. He did give them hope. He did stand up against injustice. He did do a half hour slot on national television about the importance of family values (!)

 

But once again, these things were not the primary focus.

He fed the 5000. But the point of that wasn’t to start a campaign against hunger. It was to show them that he was the bread of life. And when they missed the point, he pulled them up for it! Read John’s account of that story.

When Mary broke the alabaster jar of costly perfume over his feet and there were complaints about the expense, Jesus famously said –“leave her alone – she has done a beautiful thing for me. You will always have the poor with you, but you won’t always have me”.

And on family values, Jesus has this to say, among other things: ³⁷“Anyone who loves his father or mother more than me is not worthy of me; anyone who loves his son or daughter more than me is not worthy of me; ³⁸and anyone who does not take his cross and follow me is not worthy of me.”

Hard words. They grate on us. The might offend our sensibilities. But what you’re hearing there is the refusal of Jesus to subsume his agenda into ours.

They want Jesus to feed the poor, then and there. Instead he seeks to raise up a people who will take poverty and hunger seriously

They want Jesus to champion family values. Instead, he reminds them that there is a call on our lives that takes priority even over the ties of our families.

They want Jesus to be the kind of Messiah who’ll lead a revolution against the Romans and drive them from the Holy Land. He knows that the real enemies are sin and death, and it’s them he’s here to fight against.

Can you see now why Jesus is so scathing when Peter tries to dissuade him from the path he knows he has to take?

“Get behind me, Satan.” He says. “You do not have in mind the concerns of God, but merely human concerns”. In other words, you’re focusing on the problems in the Lower Story, Peter. You should be thinking about what God’s about to do in the Upper Story.

Peter is right in saying that Jesus is the Messiah. But he’s wrong in assuming that Messiah’s don’t suffer, get rejected and die. That’s exactly what’s going to happen, and that’s the real reason why Jesus came.

If you’ve been reading closely over the past few chapters, you’ll have picked up a sense from Jesus that he’s waiting for something, or anticipating something. When Mary urges him to help with the wine shortage at the wedding in Cana, he says – why are you involving me? My time has not yet come”.

They tried to sieze him in the Temple Courts, but we’re told his time had not yet come.

But now, with the Triumphal Entry into Jerusalem – as bold a Messianic claim as was ever made –all his cards are on the table. The opposition are arrayed against him. The brutality of the cross, and the spiritual agony of bearing our sin and being separated from the Father lie before him.

And he says “Now my soul is troubled, and what shall I say? Father – save me from this hour? No – it was for this very reason I came to this hour. Father, glorify your name”.

Who do you say that I am?

Lord, you are the Messiah. Son of God and Son of Man. Focused, self-defined, God centred. Not swayed by the opposition of enemies, nor the poor advice of friends. Knowing where you came from, and where you were going. And trusting your Father through all that was to come.

May you be more than our example and our inspiration.

May you be our Saviour and our Lord, both now and forevermore.

Amen