Loren Swartzendruber: Forming Faith to What End?

August 31, 2008
Matthew 16:21-28

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It was a hot, humid night in the middle of the summer, 1966. George R. Brunk, II, was holding meetings 4 ½ miles north of Kalona, within sight of the Cheese Factory. I was 16 years old, sitting about ½ way back, near the center aisle, on the right side. My Dad was on the platform with a Men’s Chorus, singing prior to the sermon.

The sky started to turn dark blue, then almost black. Some of the men in the chorus got a little nervous; George walked over to the edge of the platform, took a look out to the southwest, came back and told the men to keep on singing. One of his last comments was something like, “Keep on singing men, this tent has never blown down.” At least, that’s what my Dad told me later.

We all started running for the cars. The big center poles started snapping off like toothpicks, the entire tent slowly floated down on the chairs, and rain was pouring down. Amazingly, the only reported injury was one scraped knee as a person scrambled out to her car. It could have been far worse. The next morning I went with Dad to help clean up the mess. They took down what remained of the tent, and for the remaining days of the meetings, we sat outside in the open air.

One or two nights later I responded to the invitation to follow Jesus. You can’t go through an experience like that as a teenager without asking questions about life and death. I have no memory of George “using” the experience inappropriately—we didn’t have to be told that life is tenuous. The unexpected can happen quickly.

What I do remember is that I knew I wanted to be a follower of Jesus—without knowing what all that might mean for the future. I’m sure there was an element of fear involved in my decision. Within a month I joined a membership class and was baptized later that fall.

The question that you and I have to answer every day is, “Who is this Jesus that we choose to follow?” Where does Jesus lead us?

The primary Gospel text for this morning, the last 8 verses of Matthew 16, answers those questions in a way that jars the mind. Up to this point, Jesus has been performing miracles: Matthew 14—he fed the five thousand, walked on water, healed the daughter of the Canaanite woman, feeding four thousand people.

And, as if that isn’t enough, the Pharisees and Sadducees test him by asking for a sign from heaven.

Notice what happens to Simon Peter within a space of just 7 verses. He goes from having the nickname “Rocky” to being called “Satan.” One minute Jesus tells him, “On this rock I will build my church,” but as soon as Jesus reveals that being the Messiah means death, Peter is no longer a “Rock” but a stumbling block. Of course, we don’t really know if this move from hero to goat took place in a few minutes or over a period of time. This isn’t the first time that Peter experiences a sudden change of direction. In Matthew 14 we read the story of Peter walking on the water—so long as he keeps his eyes on Jesus—but he sinks like a rock when he focuses on the wind rather than on Jesus.

All we know for certain is that Jesus turned things upside down. Use whatever metaphor you want: Jesus threw them a curve, he threw a monkey wrench into their way their way of thinking, he messed with their minds. It was certainly not the direction the disciples were expecting to go.

What if either Barack Obama or John McCain would make a speech tomorrow—something like, “I’ve been trying to convince all of you that I’m the one to lead us into a better future. I’ve made thousands of speeches, I’ve spent millions of dollars, all in the effort to persuade just 51 percent of the voters that I have the answers to the country’s problems.”

“But, here’s the real deal. For some reason you’re just not getting the message. As of today, right now, I’m no longer campaigning for the presidency of the United States.” If you’re a Democrat you’re going to have to vote Republican and if you’re a Republican you’re going to have to vote Democratic.

As unlikely as that may seem, what Jesus said to his disciples was even more unlikely. “I’m going to Jerusalem, the most dangerous place for me to go right now—not for the purpose of becoming Commander in Chief—but so that I can be put on a cross and be killed.” “And by the way, if you want to follow me, you’ll have to take up your own cross.”

As Fr. Daniel Berrigan put it, “If you want to follow Jesus, you had better look good on wood.”

The people of Jesus’ day would have known that bearing a cross was a life and death matter. The cross was an instrument of torture and death. In our day Jesus might tell us that to follow him means that we will experience water-boarding and eventually drowning.

We’ve all played the game of follow the leader. We did it as children. And we’ve had the experience of following the leader who took us into places we didn’t want to go. Under branches, through dark places…

Every year at Iowa Mennonite School we had a day in the fall where we’d go to a local farm to play games and to compete in various contests. One year some of us competed in a cross country run of about 3 miles. It was not a well marked course and somehow the leader got off course and all of us were climbing over a barbed wire fence. (I’m sure the leader was Tom Yoder, first cousin of Mary Glick. Actually, he probably did not mislead us, but was so far ahead that someone else got lost.) By the time I got there I was a little too tired and caught my right leg on the top of the fence, ripping a gash about two inches long. I still have the scar to show for it. It was a case of following a leader who took us where we didn’t want to go.

How do we apply the hard teachings of this text to our particular time and place? Of course, we can all identify the “little crosses,” in our lives. And we all have them. It may not be a good idea to name them publicly in Sunday School class! It could be a little threatening.

I’m sure that some of us have faced the potential reality of our own death. In most cases, in our society however, facing death is usually not the result of our decision to follow Jesus. That doesn’t mean it isn’t challenging or life-changing. I do think it is a fundamentally different reality if our brothers and sisters in Iraq or Zimbabwe or Ethiopia are facing death because of their faith in Jesus—than if I face death because of a health crisis.

So, I come back to the difficult question of how to apply the hard teachings of this text. Let me offer just one possibility—one that I realize is very risky. And, I realize it doesn’t apply to all of us in the same way. If you want to challenge me or push this out further, come to the Faith and Issues Sunday School class discussion later this morning.

It is no secret that those of us who believe that following Jesus means we do not participate in war are not popular in our culture. To be advocates of nonviolence and to refuse to bear arms, as a matter of faith, is to be ridiculed and even reviled. At best, we are viewed as naïve, at worst—it is far worse! If any of us doubt the anger of people directed our way—sometime I’ll show you some of the messages I’ve received.

If you are, as I am, totally committed to nonviolence because of my understanding of what it means to be a follower of Jesus—then I wonder how it is that we as parents are so protective of our children that we can’t imagine letting them go into harm’s way for any reason, including that of serving the church. I’ll put it even more strongly—I think it’s a major undermining of our witness if I do not support my sons and daughters to follow Jesus into danger when my neighbor is willing to support his children to fight for my freedom.

I know this is very uncomfortable for us to contemplate. As parents we are wired to protect our children—and that’s a natural instinct. To be sure, it is our responsibility to protect them when they are small and vulnerable. From day one, however, we have to acknowledge that we are not fully in control. Every parent has experienced this on one way or another. Some of you have experienced the most excruciating loss of life—the death of a child. There is no way that I can fully comprehend that agony.

So, I do not offer this idea lightly. But, here’s the reality. Our friends and neighbors regularly allow their sons and daughters to go into harms way because they believe in the cause for which they are sent. They do not love their children less than we do. Like us, if they could do so, they would rather sacrifice their own lives than to send their sons and daughters.

What if the church in North America was so committed to the way of nonviolence and peace that we would say to the world, “Following Jesus is costly. It is a cause so compelling that we are ready to die for the church? What if we were so crazy as to say, “I’m not willing to have my son or daughter die for the nation, but I am ready to support him/her in service to the church, no matter how dangerous that may be?” I think that would be more faithful to the teachings of Jesus.

This summer we experienced the death of an April EMU graduate, Matt Garber. He was a nursing major, Bible and religion minor, and a gifted musician. He died on July 1 and the memorial service in Elizabethtown PA was on July 10. Two of his siblings had been planning to visit him in Costa Rica before he was to return home after a summer of mission service. Their parents, Todd and Debbie, supported them in the trip to Costa Rica, just days after Matt’s memorial service. Many parents would have been very reluctant to allow other children to leave home so soon. In my mind, their witness was powerful.

When I spoke with pastors Barbara and Phil about choosing a theme for this morning, I was given complete flexibility. I had considered speaking on the question of Christians and politics—it’s a subject that I enjoy thinking about and is on all of our minds these days. One thing I’m sure we can agree on—these next two months are going to be very interesting. I’m grateful that Phil will be doing a series this fall on how we should live as Kingdom citizens (see the bulletin insert for the list of sermons and texts). They told me I could choose a “Church School” theme, or something related to our vocation and work, relative to Labor Day Weekend. Or, I could simply go with the lectionary texts. I chose to go with the lectionary text, but it caused me a lot more angst during the week than any of the other options would have required.

As Phil has told us occasionally, when we are confronted by texts “we don’t like” we’d probably better pay close attention. I don’t like the idea of taking up a cross. It certainly isn’t a theme that one hears frequently on Christian radio or TV. It’s not a feel-good kind of message to deliver. The easy way out would be to focus on our “little crosses.” Jesus was talking about a real cross and physical death. Of course, the story ends with the resurrection! More than once during the week I was reminded of the old saying, “It is the preacher’s job to comfort the afflicted and to afflict the comfortable.” You can be assured, I afflicted myself this morning.

I pray that what I’ve offered will stimulate us to further conversations and to more faithful living.



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