Plot Twists and Hairpin Turns

Mark 8:27-38

          I’ve been reading a book lately that I have had such a hard time putting down – I finally, thankfully, finished it last night. The storyline has held me captive, especially in the last half of the book, as the plot has taken many twists and hairpin turns. It’s the kind of book where, even if you are not crazy about the storyline, you just have to know where it will end up. Do you know what I mean? So, this sermon may be a bit on the short side because, you know, I had a book I just had to attend to this week.

          Some of the best and most entertaining or captivating books and movies are the ones that have huge plot twists. These are the ones where you just don’t see that particular turn in the plot coming.

          You become fascinated by the unexpected –

                             or perhaps you are unnerved by it,

                                      and either way, you just have to reconcile the

tension that is created.

          Perhaps a major character is revealed to possess some personality flaw – like the fact that though you have grown to love them it is revealed that they really are a serial killer           or are otherwise leading a secret double life. They are just not the person you thought them to be.

          Or maybe tension in the storyline keeps you perched on   the edge of your seat, fingernails digging into the cushions because there are so many unexpected twists and turns that, like the book that I just finished, you just have to find out how it will end: people aren’t who they seem to be; their motives are false; there is a conspiracy underfoot that you misread of missed entirely.

          Something in the story keeps us coming back for more, however, even though we may not be necessarily crazy about the story itself.

          I feel a bit like that when I read the gospel of Mark.

          Now I know that some of you are probably thinking, “Really, Pastor Karen, the Gospel of Mark? (Maybe you should get a life!),” and you would be right. Or – “but we’ve heard these stories so many times, how could you be surprised by anything you read in this gospel?” And of course, you would be right there too, because the truth is that I have read this gospel many, many times.

          Yet as I contemplate its meaning at each reading, I still do find myself surprised, intrigued, often confused, and scratching my head – as I do with this text we read this morning.

          Along with the disciples, I find myself amazed and wanting to get at the heart of what in the world is going on as I observe the exchange that occurs between Peter and Jesus.

          This story marks the midway point in the narrative in this gospel of Mark. Jesus has been traveling throughout Galilee. Already there have been some minor twists here and there.  Jesus has been healing and driving away the demons and the crowds of people following him are growing. What could be better than that for a fledgling mission? But these actions and miracles also attract the attention of the leadership of the temple – and not in a good way. They set out to trap Jesus by various means.

          Jesus has been teaching his disciples and sends them out to do the same   and they bring back stories of great success in preaching, teaching and healing in his name. What teacher could ask for more? Yet at the same time, Jesus warns his followers to keep his works and even his identity to themselves – they mustn’t reveal too much too soon.

          Jesus has been performing works of wonder all around the region –yet things turn ugly when he returns to his own hometown of Nazareth, of all places - so that there, in that place, he can do little.

          In our gospel today, in a confession to Jesus, Peter speaks the words that we’ve all been waiting to hear. Because after all, we who are here, gathered together by the Holy Spirit as confessing Christians know who Jesus is. We have been waiting and watching and hoping that soon everyone will know who Jesus is, beginning with these first twelve disciples, and that the Good News of this revelation will cover the entire earth. Finally, Peter gets it!   Peter says the words we have been longing to hear. Words that I can imagine Jesus has been longing to hear.

          This disciple, with whom Jesus has a deep abiding relationship and friendship, responds to the question, “Who do you say that I am,” with the correct answer: “You are the Messiah,” Peter says.

          Now maybe Mark, who is notably short on words, who often cuts to the chase and seems to leave things out as a result, skips part of Jesus’ response to Peter in order to highlight what is surprising and important to him in this story. We don’t know for sure. But I find it frustrating that here, when someone finally gets it and states the truth about Jesus, the wonderful earth-shattering truth about our Savior, Jesus immediately tries to hush him up. Because what is Jesus response? It is not “good work, my good and faithful servant,” nor is it “High fives! Right answer Peter!” nor “Excellent deduction, my friend.” No. Jesus does none of these.

          Jesus sternly tells Peter and the other disciples not to tell anyone about him. It is not yet the time to let loose this information. Jesus then goes on to tell the disciples what is coming – that he, the Messiah, will – in fact must undergo horrific suffering and a torturous death. We go from high to low.

          Poor Peter. Poor disciples. Poor reader.

          We go from what seems like the greatest climax possible in this narrative - identifying the one we follow, the one we love, the one who has been teaching us, making us promises, calling and gathering us for godly work in the kingdom and we enter into the deepest hairpin turn of all, followed by a stomach clenching plunge into despair.

          Peter and his companions are likely picturing thrones and successful military campaigns and the overturning of the oppressive powers of the earth; they picture Jesus seated in earthly glory, they probably see themselves all as being part of a wonderful movement and kingdom in which Jesus is crowned and enthroned and worshiped and adored but they hear from his own lips shocking, shocking news. Jesus is going to be rejected. Jesus is going to be taken away in the most awful circumstance imaginable. He will be killed.

No – it’s actually unimaginable – what Jesus is saying.

          Can we blame Peter when he chastises Jesus? “Stop! Say no more!

It can’t be true, don’t tell us these things. It is not possible!”

          But Jesus is not finished teaching these disciples – and us – what his messiahship means. He is not finished describing how God’s love for humanity will require the greatest sacrifice from the Son.

          Jesus has much to teach these friends, these followers, these disciples, about what it means for the world that God sent the messiah to be born in human flesh, to dwell in human brokenness, and to raise those who are have been destroyed by sin and death into new life.

          The story suddenly slows down a bit. Jesus is now talking not only about how he will suffer and die, but how those who follow him, who serve him, will also know suffering; will also know pain; will also know mortal death – but will at the same time receive abundant everlasting life.

This is the mystery of life and faith, and it is the key to the kingdom of God.

          Frankly, I suspect most of us find our grasp of this message elusive most of the time. We have to admit that we find Peter’s definition of “messiah” the one we prefer as well. We consider ourselves “blessed” when we are successful, happy, healthy, prosperous, and enjoying the good life. We want a strong God, a God who heals our illnesses in ways we recognize, a God who provides ample prosperity, a God who guarantees our security, a God who ensures victory for our military (and perhaps our sports teams) and generally gives us the happily ever after we seek.

          What Jesus offers with all this cross-bearing talk and demands to “lose our life” is a plot-twist we didn’t see coming and one we have little understanding of.

          And yet, as the saying goes, we do not always get the God we want.

We get the God we need. Jesus points to a God who meets us in our vulnerability, suffering, and loss.

          God meets us in those moments of astonishing twists and turns in the storyline of our lives; those moments when we go from high to low in the moment the phone rings, or the test results come back, or the car is suddenly careening out of control.

          God meets us in the falling of buildings built with human hands, in the crashing down of cranes, in the storm and drought and fear of everyday life, the plot turns that permanently change the trajectory of our well-planned lives.

God meets us in those moments when all we have worked for,

          striven for

                   and hoped for

has fallen apart and we realize that the goal we thought we were headed for is not the goal within our grasp. God meets us in that pivotal moment of mortal need, when we realize that we are incapable of saving ourselves and desperately need a God who knows our every thought, our every breath, our every sin and failure, joy and triumph, and discover that God, our God, is already here – surrounding us with love, support, and comfort through the extraordinary means of a savior who has born the cross for us, and the simple means of friends and strangers who reach out in compassion for all who are in need.

          Among the twists and turns of the gospel is that God is here and present not only in the moments when we are most in need but also in the moments when we are most needed.

          For God is here when we pick up the cross of Christ and walk with others, discovering new purpose through the sharing of our own scarred and treasured hearts, when we serve the world, feeding the hungry, clothing the naked, forgiving the despairing, sitting with the lonely, loving the forsaken, and sharing the cross – and love of Jesus. Amen.