In today’s gospel, Jesus tells the disciples he will undergo great suffering, be rejected, be killed, and after three days rise again. When Peter rebukes Jesus, Jesus teaches both the disciples and the crowd to follow him. For, Jesus says, those who want to save their life lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake and for the sake of the gospel, save it.
When I imagine following someone, in the way Jesus calls us to follow him, the image that comes to mind is walking in deep snow. When snow has just fallen and we are walking through it, we, especially short people like me, appreciate when someone goes ahead of us, when someone breaks the path. Then, all I do is step into the footprints. I don’t have to make my own way. I just walk exactly where the person before me walked. Now, there are lots of people and forces and trends to follow, other than Jesus: our parents and extended families, our friends and colleagues, our culture at large, particular political or social leaders, or those we actually “follow” on facebook or twitter or tiktok or youtube. We can’t help but follow someone, somewhere. While we may think that we can break our own path in the world, similar to the way we might break a path in pristine snow, the reality is that not a single one of us truly walks our own way in the world. How we live, the choices we make, what we even consider to be our choices at all are a reflection of all the people and forces and trends that have shaped us, for good or ill. Jesus’ invitation might make us wonder, as it does me: who do I follow? Or to say it another way: If our lives are a game of Follow the Leader, who is my leader? On the first day of my first call over 17 years ago, I went to join one of the WELCA circles—the Women of the ELCA Bible study circles—for their regular Bible study at my new church. I had never met these women before, but they graciously welcomed me, cut me a piece of cake, poured me a cup of coffee, and then continued with their Bible study. I don’t remember what they were studying, but at one point in the study, one of the discussion questions was: Is it easy to follow Jesus? Around the table, each woman said: “Well, yes, of course.” Now, I wanted to be respectful, and of course, I had just met them. But I couldn’t help myself and burst out with: “No, it’s not easy to follow Jesus at all! He leads us to do hard things, good things but hard things. And ultimately, if we follow him, we follow him into suffering and death. No, it’s not easy to follow Jesus; we basically lose our lives.” Surprised silence followed my outburst, and then, a woman named Elaine said, “Huh. We need more of that.” Once in a while, like these women, I get caught up in thinking that it’s easy to follow Jesus and that I’m doing it just great. I get seduced into thinking that the One I follow is Jesus and that, really, I’ve got this whole discipleship thing sewn up. It’s usually right around that time that something happens that humbles me. I discover I’ve been holding a grudge and am unwilling to forgive someone, or I hear myself saying something rude and hurtful about a particular person or group of people. Richard will turn to me, and say: “Do you really think that?” Or I willfully and specifically decide to skirt responsibility for caring for God’s creation or loving my neighbor. It was at this point in my sermon writing that I didn’t know where to go. Because I had already basically written three whole sermons and erased the first two. They just didn’t feel right. I love this passage from Mark and the similar passages from Luke and Matthew—because following Jesus is the reason I am here, in church. I appreciate other aspects of the Christian faith and specifically the Lutheran tradition, but for me, it all boils down to following Jesus. I just dig him. And I really want to follow him. Because I do want to follow him, I get to thinking that I know how to do it well and that I have something to say about it. In my sermon writing process this week, I laughed aloud when I discovered that my hubris, my pride had surfaced again, in writing this very sermon, and that, instead of following Jesus, I was following myself. Which was probably why my sermon process wasn’t going well. I had to remind myself that, if I am following Jesus, I am following, not leading. And of course, that’s true for all of us. None of us are breaking that path through the deep snow; we’re only just stepping into the footprints Jesus left for us. And if we’re following Jesus, that’s some deep snow, three feet at least. If we step into the footprints Jesus has left for us, here’s what we see: We see Jesus healing people, touching people one by one by one through entire crowds. We see him blessing bread and fish and sharing it with 5000 men plus women and children besides. We see him calling Zacchaeus out of the sycamore tree and announcing his forgiveness. We see him hanging out with women and tax collectors and lepers and even the dead. And then, we see ourselves step into those footprints, literally following Jesus everywhere he goes. Jesus leads us to spend time with people we would never have sought out, leads us to do things we would have never done, opens our eyes to needs we would have ignored. Our priorities, in a real and vivid way, shift. We allow our lives to not only change; as Jesus said, we give up our lives. Today, the good news in the midst of hard, challenging news, is this: Jesus has left us footprints in which we may simply step. We don’t have to follow, but when we do, we find a life we won’t regret. For that, we can say: Thanks be to God! Amen.
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AuthorPastor Sarah Stadler shares her sermons from the previous Sunday. Archives
May 2024
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