Sept 13, 2015 Sermon: "A Savior, Coming of Age"

Stephen Baldwin

OT: Proverbs 1.20-33

NT: Mark 8.27-38

A Savior, Coming of Age             

            Do you think Jesus always knew who he was?  Did he know as a boy that could heal the sick?  Was he aware as a young adult that he would soon die?  Did his mother or the Holy Spirit tell him how it would all happen?  These may seem like silly questions, but I bet most of us assume he did.  But just because you know something’s going to happen doesn’t mean that you’re ready for it. 

            You still scream at scary movies, even though you know something is going to pop out of the darkness.  You still cry at romantic comedies, even though you know they will live happily ever after.  You still get nervous for the good guys in superhero movies, even though you know they always beat the bad guys.  Just because you know what’s going to happen doesn’t mean you know how it’s going to happen.  Even though Jesus knows who he is, that doesn’t mean he’s ready for it.  Remember he is fully human, too. 

            According to Mark, it all began with the Spirit descending as a dove on Jesus, signaling God’s favor in his life.  No birth story.  No manger or star.  No donkey and no Joseph being turned down at the inn.  Just the Spirit descending like a dove.  It was an outward symbol of an inward truth—the child was special.  But that didn’t preclude him from the same troubles as everyone else.  Not only was it just as hard for him to ask Mary to the school dance as every other awkward teenager boy, but he dealt with deeper problems too.    

            He wasn’t like the others.  His family told the community he must be crazy, for they had no explanation for his outlandish behavior—turning water into wine and “pretending” to know more than the teachers.  They were tired of having to answer for him, so they disowned him.  In response, he did what most other young men would do in that situation, he returned fire with fire, disowning his family and hitting the road with some half-hearted fishermen for friends.  The only cousin who had really understood him, John, lived out in the woods with only his beard and locusts for company.   

            Yet, the boy growing into a man was fully God too.  He was doing things no one else could do, and people were talking.  That dove’s appearance might not have been a coincidence after all.  Everywhere he went, people paid attention.  They practiced his teachings.  They looked to his guidance.  They brought him their sick.  And he always came through. 

            But what goes up must come down, and so did Jesus.  John was captured by the Romans and beheaded at a party, as if it was entertainment for the royals.  Jesus tried to get away with his disciples, but they couldn’t get far enough away.  He fed thousands.  He rescued the disciples from a raging sea.  Then he met a Gentile woman who wanted his help.  He said no, because she wasn’t Jewish.  Then she opened his eyes to the absurdity of that idea, and he realized the breadth of his mission was much greater than he had realized. 

            If Jesus knew who he was, then why did he ask the disciples in the midst of all this chaos, “Who am I?”  Perhaps he just wanted to test them.  See what they would say.  Discern if they knew more than they let on.  Find out what they were telling other people.  But I think it was an honest question.  He wanted confirmation from his friends that he was who he had become—Son of God, healer of the sick, friend of Jews and Gentiles, Savior of us all. 

            It wasn’t an identity crisis.  He always knew who he was.  It was a coming of age.  He became who he knew he always was. 

            I find Jesus’ coming of age remarkably comforting, because he was a human, too.  If even he didn’t always have everything figured out, then maybe there’s hope for me.  For my disorganized desk and my best intentions left unfulfilled and my hurtful words.  Maybe there’s hope for us.  For our broken relationships and our unfulfilling jobs and our unknown mistakes.  We may not yet be who were born to be, but there’s still time.  Hope is alive.  Just like Jesus, we are coming of age. 

            Fourteen years after 9/11, some people look at the world and see a world unhinged.  They see division and hatred and enmity.  There’s no denying  that, but I hear a voice louder than all those who are shouting. 

I hear Jesus asking, “Who do you say I am?”  He asks that to remind us that he is the Messiah, who has saved us all already. 

“Who do you say I am?”  He asks that to remind us that he had to come of age, just like we do.

“Who do you say I am?” He asks us that to remind us to be hopeful.  Coming of age takes time. 

            Did you notice that Jesus himself, even once the disciples confirm who he is, tells them not to tell anyone else?  Why would he do that?  Because the Son of God doesn’t do it for the glory; he does it to the glory of God.  There is honor in letting your actions speak for themselves without commentary or adulation. 

            As we all come of age—as we grow over time into the people we were created to be, no matter our age—take hope in knowing that it takes time.  Take hope in being aware that who you are reflects to the world the good God who made you.  Take hope in the Messiah, for this is his world.  Take hope.  Amen.