Lent 2, Year B Fearless of the World, Fearful of God

“The only thing to fear is fear itself.”[1] 

“You can’t handle the truth!”[2]

These are just some of the quotations that came to mind as I pondered this week’s scriptures.   Here Jesus is, telling the truth, and the disciples just can’t handle it. 

You might note that Jesus is responding to the truth Peter has just told—in fact, this passage occurs right after Peter has said, “You are the Messiah.”  This amazing truth is too big to be held by the moment—Jesus immediately tells them to stay mum.  But Jesus responds to this truth with the much sadder truth—that humanity won’t be able to handle him—he just wreaks havoc with our powers and principalities across the board. 

He is too kind, gentle, loving for the earth to hold him in its present state—he will be expelled from the organism he is trying to love into a metamorphosis.  This is the sad truth that we ponder during Lent—that we struggles with sin, not only personal, but institutional and cosmic sin.  This truth permeates this short passage in Mark.

And the disciples, especially Peter, cannot handle the truth!  Peter seems viscerally affected, so much that you can imagine him almost cutting Jesus off, steering him aside as if he were some errant schoolboy, and attempting to shush him.  Can you imagine?  Trying to shush Jesus?  This little light of mine…

But you have to understand where Peter is coming from here.  He has just been shown this truth--that Jesus is indeed the Messiah.  Wow! 

But in the Jewish tradition, in the Hebrew Scriptures, the Messiah is often seen as a kingly figure, one who will conquer, one who will be feared.   Certainly not one who needs to fear being vanquished himself.  Peter thinks Jesus must just have it all wrong!

Because I would be willing to bet that Jesus was tempted to be the other kind of Messiah.  It’s not as if it wasn’t within his power.  Look at the temptation in the desert—Jesus is tempted by Satan—not to fade into nothingness, but to have power and dominion over others. [3] To be able to perform magic tricks with stones rather than produce the food that feeds forever. 

There certainly is less fear in that equation.  An assured future.  No one to push you around.  But it is also the choice put to you by the deceiver. 

Otherwise known as Satan.  This is why Jesus’ harsh words—just after this laudable insight, Jesus knows that Peter is susceptible to delusions of glory.  Susceptible to Satan’s temptation to live a more powerful, more assured life of power over others.

But Jesus has already discerned, from his time in the desert—his own pilgrimage alone—that power over others, forcing them to hear his words, words of love, simply won’t work.  This is the path, he says, take up your cross.  This is fearful stuff!

One of the insights of our reflections on baptism on Wednesday night was that to be Christian was to give up fear.  I instinctually agreed, but I went home thinking about it.  Is this true?  Or too simplistic?  Not too long ago, you may remember those “No Fear” stickers that adorned many cars of Christians that were more assured than I. 

This led me to thinking about fear and turning toward following Christ. 
On the one hand, it seems the opposite of the truth of the situation—it is a fearful thing to take up one’s cross—it must have been a fearful thing for the disciples to really listen to the truth Jesus was sharing in this moment.  They were joyous because here’s the Messiah, at last!  And he is somber, because that’s actually got some bad news, folks. 

But while it is indeed a fearful thing—a thing we do with fear and trembling—trying to sort out our cross and trying to do our best to take it up and follow Jesus, the very action of following Jesus means giving up fear.  That is to say, that we give up the fear of the world when we take up our cross.  Because nothing matters as much as this.  We fear God, or I like to say we mind God, but we do not fear or mind the idols of success that lure us in this world. 

And those idols are tempting, aren’t they?  Part of what lures us so much away from active discipleship in this world is the lure of just a little less time for prayer so that we can finish this task or work another hour.  This is not to say our work and family lives can’t be our way of following Jesus, but then it gets really tricky.  Workplace ethics?  Acting in a truly Christian way with your coworkers?  Or remaining Christian with your family when they get less than holy with you?

And it’s tempting to be very fearful in this world right now, too!  I heard about an app on the radio the other night that is being implemented to combat high levels of social anxiety.  I too get overly worried at times.  I can get caught up in the temptation to control my world.  Taking up your cross doesn’t mean controlling everything or trying to take everything on—sometimes it is accepting what is and trusting God to guide you.But I find that when I focus on my Christian work—whether it be visiting and praying with someone, preparing a sermon, reaching out to the community, I get pretty fearless!  Because I am fearing GOD, minding God, and not the cares of the world. You all have this work, too.  Part of the Christian journey is discerning what this task is for you.

So, this Lent, maybe your challenge is this — to do something WILD.  Take up your cross, yes, that fearful, God-minding work.  But lay down the fears that deceive you and keep you from hearing the truth that Jesus has for your life—the truth about who you really are.

Abraham listened, and he went from being just a “father” to a “father of nations” (Romans 4:18).[4]  God has something big up God’s sleeve for you, if you believe and are not deceived. 

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[1] From FDR’s inaugural address, 1933.

[2] From the movie, A Few Good Men, 1992.

[3] W Hulitt Gloer, “Homiletical Perspective: Mark 8:31-38,” Feasting on the Word Year B, Vol. 2.

[4] New Interpreter’s Bible, Footnote to Genesis 17:5.