Reverend Ref +

SERMON
15 PENTECOST
PROPER 17A

The gospel last week asked the question, "Who do you say I am?" I challenged you to answer like Peter, "Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of the living God." And I challenged you to make that claim not only in the midst of a "religious revival," i.e. when everyone else is doing it, but to make it in everyday conversations when you might be most at risk of embarrassing yourself.

What do we mean, though, when we make that claim? Do we view it as some sort of holy insurance policy, following the words of Paul when he said, ". . . no one can say 'Jesus is Lord' except by the Holy Spirit?" If that's what you think about when making that statement, then remember the words of Jesus when he said, "Not everyone who says to me, 'Lord, Lord,' will enter the kingdom of heaven . . . " No, this isn't some magical incantation that, like Harry Potter, if recited properly, will open the gates of Heaven for you. Making that claim entails some hard choices; not the least of which is this:

"If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me. For those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake will find it."

This is very important, so let's take a look at what I think Jesus is saying here.

"If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me."

Deny yourself. We are constantly in a battle between our selfish desires and our spiritual well- being. As Paul said, "I do not do the good I want, but the evil I do not want is what I do."

Denying yourself isn't about taking all the fun out of your life. It's not about not dancing, not drinking, not smoking, not playing cards, not listening to music, not not not not. It's about knowing yourself in a way that you can recognize what part of you takes you away from God. It's about knowing what part of you wants to push God into a corner or out of your life.

Two opposite examples here. St. Francis came from a wealthy family. That wealth threatened to push God aside, so he denied that part of himself, refused his family's money (much to the disappointment of his father), and lived a life of poverty dedicated to serving others. Compare that to St. Peter who, when confronted with a choice of doing what he wanted or proclaiming Jesus as his Savior, chose to deny not himself but Christ -- three times.

When you choose to deny yourself, then you voluntarily take up your cross in an effort to put that part of yourself to death so that the better part of you may live. Taking up the cross, my friends, doesn't mean wearing pretty jewelry or labeling an annoying neighbor as your cross to bear. When you take up your cross, it means, just like it meant for Jesus when he took up his cross, that something is going to die. Hopefully that something is that which pushes God out of your life.

"For those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake will find it."

In the past, this statement was used as encouragement for those about to be martyred. Imagine for a moment that you are about to be put on the rack and pulled apart, or tied to a stake and burned alive, or fed to hungry lions, or slit . . . well, you get the idea. People can be very creative when killing each other. I am sure that this passage offered some level of comfort and a deeper meaning for those about to die.

But today, in this country, we are not killed for professing our faith. So how might we interpret this for ourselves? One way is to think about gardening -- pruning specifically. Envision yourself for a moment as a plant, a rose bush to be specific. If we had it our way, we would grow everywhere, our root system expanding, thorny stems spreading out and becoming an entangled mess until we resembled something like the thorn bush that the prince had to fight through in "Sleeping Beauty." The problem is that we don't want to lose any of ourselves, so we tenaciously and selfishly hold on to everything, eventually becoming not a beautiful rose bush, but nothing more than a wall of thorns.

However, if we allow ourselves to be pruned, either by ourselves or by others or by God, then we have the opportunity to become that beautiful rose bush. We may want it all, but sometimes it is necessary to lose a few branches here and there. We go through the pain of losing pieces of ourselves, but, in retrospect, those pieces were not necessary to our well-being, nor did they add to the beauty of our life.

In other words, our life should reflect our relatinshiop with Jesus. Yes, we lose part of ourselves by being pruned; but we have the opportunity to become a well-manicured rose bush that is a joy to behold.

So, what's the point of all this rambling? Just this: find that part of yourself that is willing to deny Christ, and deny yourself instead; and be willing to lose some of yourself in order to grow and reflect Christ's love to the world.