Who will save us?

Mark 8:27-38

Who do people say that Jesus is? A savior, a prophet, a healer, a friend, a sacrificial lamb, a judge, a Messiah, a wisdom teacher, a radical, a revolutionary, a Palestinian Jew, the Son of God, just a really good dude with some good ideas—the list goes on. I’ve even heard questionably earnest suggestions that Jesus was an alien or a time traveler or a being from another dimension come to enlighten us. I’ve also been told that Jesus is a figment of my imagination, a storybook hero meant to comfort the inferior intellect. That last claim was delivered with such a degree of contempt and disdain that I have to wonder if there might have been some hurt behind it.  If you asked ten people who Jesus is, you’d probably get at least half a dozen different responses, even within the same congregation. If you had asked me ten years ago who Jesus was, I probably would have given a different answer than the answer I would give today, and I’m sure I’m not alone in that. As we grow in wisdom and experience, our perspective on Jesus of Nazareth grows and changes. We can see it in the disciples, who at various points in their ministry with Jesus and after his death and resurrection had a lot of conversations and arguments about who Jesus is. Jesus knew these conversations were happening in whispers all around him, so he asked the question out loud and patiently waited for his students to answer.

“Who do people say that I am?”

The disciples have heard the rumors in the market and on the road and murmured on the edges of crowds, and they repeat them. John the Baptist, or Elijah, or one of the prophets. Having been with Jesus when he learned of his cousin John’s execution, the disciples can at least rule that one out. But when Jesus asks, But who do you say that I am? Only one disciple answers. Peter, for once, gets it right. You are the Messiah. This is an answer that is far more dangerous than claiming to be one of the prophets, although being a prophet is never a ticket to an easy and comfortable life. In a way, the Messiah is a prophetic figure, someone who speaks for God among the people and calls for a more just and righteous world. But when Peter calls Jesus the Messiah, we might imagine a target being drawn on Jesus’s chest. To be the Messiah that the Jewish people of the Ancient World were waiting for, and for whom many Jews around the world continue to wait, was to be a revolutionary. Not a revolutionary like the great artists and inventors and activists who have throughout history earned the moniker “ahead of their time.” Revolutionary as in war, as in armed uprising, as in breaking the chains of Empire and overthrowing the status quo. The Messiah, as Peter and his fellow disciples understand the role, is a leader of armies, a new king to take the crown from Caesar and wear it on his own head. Of course, we know that the only crown Jesus wore in his earthly life was made of thorns, a torture device meant to mock the very title Peter has just laid on him.

Who do we say that Jesus is?

Do we say that he is a prophet, a teacher, a healer? Do we say he is a wisdom teacher, a good person with good ideas, not divine but definitely special? Do we call Jesus the Messiah, our savior, the Son of God?

There is a danger to naming the truth of what we believe about who Jesus is. It is the same danger that Peter risked by answering the question. If we say Jesus is our savior, our messiah, we may be answering the question correctly with our words. But do the words mean something different to us, something we’re not saying out loud? Peter wanted a Messiah who would take on the armies of Rome and destroy them. He wanted a Messiah who would replace the current regime with his own, perhaps elevating his closest disciples to positions of power. When he called Jesus the Messiah, he was technically right. But when he learned what that meant to Jesus, he was horrified. He wanted what we so often want, a savior who will save us in the way we would find most comfortable, most profitable, most pleasurable, most convenient. He didn’t understand that the kind of saving we need will never, ever come from armies, or weapons, or even leaders and kings. I’m not sure we understand this most of the time either.

Just like Peter, we fall again and again to the temptation to set our minds on human things over and against divine things. We seek a Messiah who will conform to our own image, a savior who will not ask us to change. We look for this kind of saving in the people we look up to, respected elders, trusted community leaders, celebrities, elected officials, sometimes even pastors. We worship what we perceive to be strength and popularity, forgetting that God himself prioritized the weak and the forgotten. We kneel to the lie that wealth and status are worth more than the anonymous bodies on which they are built. We hang our entire lives, our hopes and dreams and trust in humanity on a couple of people every few years, as if the Messiah will be born in a voting booth. It matters who we trust to lead us, the letter of James goes into that in great detail and with moving imagery. But we cannot allow ourselves to forget where our salvation lies.

Who do you say that Jesus is? And just as importantly, who do you believe is your Savior? If we say that Jesus is a human being who just knew his Bible really well and was good at listening to God, then we will always look for salvation in human things. If we say that Jesus is the Son of God, with all the benefits and baggage that title entails, this confession will require something of us. If we confess Jesus as our Lord and Savior, we can no longer seek salvation anywhere else. If we really believe what we say we do about Jesus, we might actually find it in ourselves to take up our cross and follow him. We might actually believe him when he tells us that losing the life we thought we wanted will be worth it for his sake. Just as Peter had to learn to hope for a different kind of kingdom, so we too must learn to hope differently. Our hope cannot be founded on the outcome of an election, or an exam, or an interview, or a relationship. These are human things, and they will not save us. Only Christ can do that, and Christ already has.