Right Back at ya

14th Sunday after Pentecost

Matthew 16:13-20; Romans 12:1-8

My friend, Bob Searl, pastors the University Baptist Church over in Shawnee. Several years ago, we were talking about one of his most beloved parishioners, Dr. Hurley – Mike Pontious counts Dr. Hurley as something of a mentor – anyway, Searl mentioned how difficult it was to be a preacher and have Dr. Hurley in his congregation – high standards of excellence and such. He shared Hurley’s brief synopsis of his performance at the conclusion of his morning sermon from the previous week. He said, “Pastor, I perceive that you are becoming a better preacher.”

Bob took it as a compliment, and he should have. We strive for excellence in this life – granted, some of us more than others – and we count upon certain people in our paths to champion the cause of excellence as an example to us.

I realized this week that is one of the things I miss about Dad. We didn’t see eye to eye on everything – but he was my first and greatest coach on competition – with others, and with myself. Well into his 60’s, he would still go with us to the tennis court – that’s back when I was actually agile enough to play tennis – and he would golf with us until about the last three years of his life. In those outings, he was still trying to win – to best his boys – and he was somewhat disappointed that he couldn’t beat us anymore.

Apart from a competitive nature, Dad also taught us to try new things. He counted each car that one of us would purchase as another in the experiment of cars that we, as an extended family, were “trying.” He would take on a new game, or try something new, if for no other reason than to encourage us to do the same. Now, sister Tracy is doing that very thing this morning. I can report to you that she is preaching a sermon this morning on the Psalm for today, and she has determined that with her West Texas, small town congregation, she is going to attempt to preach in the style of an African-American preacher – because she thinks the scripture simply begs to be preached in that style. I can’t wait to get home and call her to see if she how it went – that is, if they haven’t had her committed.

I read her sermon on Friday. She commented about the nature of African-American churches to “talk back” to the preacher during the sermon – saying things like, “yes”, and, “uh-huh,” and “you said it, preacher,” – Jim Wideman used to say that commentary helped the preacher know how they were doing, and that they were doing okay unless they heard someone say, “help him, Lord.” Anyway, Tracy said this in her sermon – “Sermons in those churches are not monologues – they’re dialogues, and intentionally so.”

It occurred to me this week that Jesus and Peter had a most unusual dialog in our gospel story for this morning. Matthew places this story late in the “big story” – just before the Transfiguration, really. I don’t know what Jesus was up to with his questions – it could be that He was simply trying to discern if He had accomplished His goal of getting His message out there so the masses could understand it. That may have been the “big picture” idea – however, I suspect He always had more than one reason why He did anything.

In this case, I suspect that Jesus was trying to test the waters in the case of this one disciple – Simon Peter – and was trying to make a larger point about the manner in which God intended that the kingdom of God work itself out in our world. Whatever the case, this was an unusual dialog.

Jesus put a question out there for the “boys in the band” to answer. “Who do people say that the Son of Man is?” He liked that term, “Son of Man.” He liked to refer to Himself that way – “the Son of Man.” Isn’t it interesting that the “Son of God” would call Himself the “Son of Man.” Kind of a demotion, don’t you think. And yet, that may have been the larger point all along about the redemptive approach God chose to take with us. We couldn’t come up to God’s level, so God chose to come down to ours.

Anyway, they answered His question. And they gave some pretty good responses – “John the Baptist, Elijah, Jeremiah, another prophet.” He had done a good enough job with them that they at least placed Him in some pretty good company. So He asked the second question – and I personally think He looked straight at Simon Peter when He asked it – “But who do you say that I am?”

It isn’t my sermon for today, really, but I can’t pass this question by with reminding us that this is the question that each one of us must answer for ourselves. This is the question that every person ultimately must answer – “Who do we think Jesus is?” Just like He looked straight at Simon Peter, He eventually looks straight at each of us and asks the same question – “Who do you say that I am?”

Peter gave a good answer – bordering on a spectacular answer, really. “You are the Christ, the Son of the Living God.” He got it right that day, Peter did. Peter hit the nail right on the head. He might not have known all the implications of his answer – this side of heaven, I don’t suspect any of us know all the implications. But he did hit the nail right smack on the head. Jesus is the Christ, the Son of the Living God.

Now, I want us to go back to this dialog idea for a minute. You noticed that I entitled the sermon, “Right Back At Ya.” When I first read these questions this week, I thought, “What if the situation were reversed? What if we were asking these questions of Jesus? “Jesus, who do people out there really think I am?” Jesus, who do you really think I am?” And what if the situation were reversed still another way – what if it were Jesus asking these questions of us? “Richard, who do you think you are?” Or, “Mike, who does Jesus think you are?” Hmm.

Here’s my point. I mean, we could actually explore those four questions for a little while, and maybe we might get somewhere this morning. But I think the larger point is that when we enter into relationship with Jesus, that relationship is a “dialog” relationship. In other words, Jesus expects us to come at Him with some questions and some challenges, and we should expect the same thing in return. This is no casual relationship – this is real intimacy – the kind of intimacy that expects things of one another, and demands answers, and doesn’t walk away from the relationship for any reason, and by doing all of those things, shows true respect for the other party.

I made an observation about myself this week. Lately, as board President of a couple of organizations in town, I’ve been expected to do some hand holding and polite prodding of the other board members. We have board meetings – we determine to perform certain actions – we make assignments to one another. There was a time when I didn’t mind so much calling those other “volunteer” board members to remind them to complete their duties. But recently, I’ve gotten a little weary of having to be the board monitor in those situations. I think this may have something to do with Dad’s passing – I am suddenly a foot closer to being in my own grave, and I don’t have time for such things any longer. It’s not really an impatience – more like a respect that calls upon the best of other adults, and expects them to take responsibility for their commitments and their actions. I frankly expect them to hold me to the same standards. In other words, in those wonderful venues, lets stop holding hands, and instead, show each other how much we care by really doing our jobs, and if we must, maybe kicking each other in the seat of the pants every once in a while – in Jesus’ name, of course.

When Jesus entered into relationship with us, I think He expected some things of us. He expected some things of us because we were now members of the royal family – and I don’t mean a dysfunctional royal family like the ones across the big pond. We are children of the King – adopted brothers and sisters of Jesus, and grafted offspring of God. That doesn’t come lightly. No longer is it appropriate for us to sit around and discount our own worth in the eyes of God, or in the work of the kingdom. That’s where the truth of the Psalm this morning reminds us that we are who we are, exactly and precisely because the “Lord was on our side.” That’s where the truth of the Old Testament story of the salvation of Moses comes into play. Moses wasn’t saved because he was anyone special – he was saved for a purpose, and that purpose was the continuation of this tremendous story of the salvation of God coming into our world. We are all Moses’, each and every one of us. We were saved for a purpose, and we dare not discount our purpose in the spread of the kingdom of God. I suspect God tires of listening to us as we say, “well, I’m only one person,” or as we say, “I’m no Moses – there are more important people in the kingdom than me.” I suspect God tires of all of that hooey – God expects us to rise up and claim our inheritance as children of the King, brothers and sisters of Christ, emissaries to a fallen, wounded, hurting world. I suspect God expects more of us.

I have two illustrations to make my point. The first one, I shared with you three years ago in a sermon on this same passage. In our gospel story this morning, Jesus said to Peter, “You are Peter (petros – little pebble) and on this rock I will build my church, and the gates of Hell shall not prevail against it.” In my lifetime, I have gone through three understanding of what Jesus meant by those words.

When I was much younger, one pastor I sat under said that “on this rock” referred to Peter and his wonderful, stalwart kind of faith. In other words, “Peter, you are just the kind of person I am looking for on which I might build the church.” That explanation doesn’t work for me any more – because when we look ahead to the next week, we see just how “rock-like” Peter acts then. Peter never was trustworthy when it came to sticking it out. If Jesus was planning to build his church on Peter’s wavering faith, the church would have been doomed to fail.

Some years later, I heard another explanation. Jesus called Peter a rock, petros, which means small pebble. Then Jesus pointed to Himself and said, “and on ‘this’ rock, I will build my church.” For a long time I became convinced that is what Jesus meant in that situation. “Peter, your faith is so small, I better build My church Myself. As a pebble, I’ll put you where I want, and let you know about it afterwards.”

Then just a few years ago, I encountered an explanation I continue to like. Jesus called Peter a little rock, petros, and then pointing, first to Himself, and then back to Peter, in a back and forth kind of motion, said, “and on this rock” – indicating the relationship between Christ and us. A “dialogue relationship.” The church will expand and prevail, not just on the wavering faith of Peter-like people. The church will expand and prevail, not just on the power and deity of Jesus. But the church will expand and prevail on the basis of the relational power, the “dialogue relationship” between all of us who are Peter-like people and our Lord Jesus Christ.

Then, here’s my second illustration. Our epistle for today – Romans 12. “I urge you therefore, brethren (and sisters), by the mercies of God, to present your bodies a living and holy sacrifice, acceptable to God, which is your spiritual service of worship. And do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind, that you may prove what the will of God is, that which is good and acceptable and perfect.” (NASV mostly) Paul goes on to proclaim that we are members of the same body as is Christ. We are members of His body. That’s hard to discount. That’s tough to belittle. We wouldn’t put down the body of Christ. No, we exalt the sacrifice of Christ and we worship Him for Who He is. We don’t worship ourselves, but we are called to hold ourselves, and our contribution to the expansion of the kingdom of God in high esteem. We don’t mumble about our commitment to God – rather, we proclaim our involvement in the greatest venture this earth has seen.

We are involved in a living “dialogue of life” with our Lord, and with this world. Our participation is called for, and as a mature expression of our place in God’s eyes, our participation is expected.

“Right Back At Ya, Jesus.” We see who You see us to be. We understand Your expectations of us, and we gratefully respond with an expression of our lives that is appropriate and excellent. “Right Back At Ya.”

Richard W. Dunn, Ph.D.