Who Do You Say That I Am?

It’ll be 5 years ago this October/November that I had the chance to pilgrimage in the Holy Land.  And one of the “journeys” of that trip was to travel from our hotel in Tiberius up to “Caesarea Philippi”—or at least to the site of the first-century Roman city. 

I remember the day well.  It was cloudy and rainy.  There were parts of the journey in heavy fog—so that you couldn’t see the mountains.  And we traveled from land that was established as “Israel” in 1948 to land that had since been acquired and controlled by Israel—what was once a part of Syria that now is occupied by Israeli defense forces and citizens.  Traveling through this new territory, we didn’t see tanks or barracks, but we knew it was heavily defended, seeing plenty of signs along the road indicating that it was “mined” with landmines beyond the shoulders, noticing, too, that if required a vigorous defense stood at the ready for any military attack. 

I’ve since wondered if this was also how Jesus’ disciples might have felt about the journey Jesus was asking them to undertake in last Sunday’s gospel lesson.  “Who do people say that the Son of Man is? (Matthew 16: 13-20)” is a question Jesus is asking in the face of cultural, military, and imperial opposition to the people of God.  Jesus presumably takes the disciples to show them the human opposition that the ministry of Jesus Christ faces in the world.  And when Peter offers up the right answer, it’s an anti-imperial choice, a reflection that the true power of the world is found in God—in Jesus.  But this power is opposed by the world around it! 

Frankly, this isn’t much different that the challenges we face in our world, today.  The call and claim of the ministry of Jesus Christ calls us to be anti-imperial, counter-cultural, and to choose non-violence in the face of violence.  Because at the end of the day, “who do we say that Jesus is?”—if not anti-imperial, counter-cultural, and non-violent?  The identification of Jesus as “the way, and the truth, and the life,” prescribes a different world-view for us—one of compassion, peace, and justice.  These are not just good words; they must compel us to act. 

Jesus calls us to identify with the Kingdom of God.  To love her virtues, to claim her values, and to give witness to God’s desires for the world—where every life is valued and acts of violence are abhorred.  This must call us to revalue our commitments to privileged “rights” and public policies.  The problem is, we’re simply afraid of alienating anyone; and when we take strident stands, we’re accused of cutting someone out. 

Unfortunately, the temptation is to believe that if we hold too tightly and rigidly to the calls and claims of Jesus, we’ll make people mad.  If we call for non-violent solutions in places like Gaza, Syria, and Iraq, we’ll look foolish in the world of an “eye-for-an-eye” kind of retributive justice.  If we stand up for victims of violence and discrimination like Mike Brown we’ll be seen as “anti-police” or “reverse-racist.”  And if we try and steer toward a middle way, we aren’t leading with Jesus’ voice in any clear direction. 

Jesus stood in the face of worldly power and gave witness to the Kingdom of God. 

And frankly, Jesus calls us to stand in the face of this world’s power and at the very least, admit our allegiance to God’s power above and beyond human power. 

We’re fond—at least in the Presbyterian Church (U.S.A)—of trying to carve out a safe place for everyone; in other words, we’re famous for not telling people what to believe or how to vote or forcing people to support certain policies.  But what we sometimes lose is remembering to proclaim boldly the kind of life Jesus lived and calls us to. 

The biblical witness of Jesus calls us toward a lifestyle of not killing, a way of life that values all human beings, and care for neighbor that identifies even our enemies as our neighbors.  Even in the face of public opinion. 

The congregation I serve doesn’t tell you what to believe; but we do want you to “do the math.”  We should be telling the world what Jesus did, what he believed, what he stood for, how he called people to live.  And that’s a pretty good indication of the values we should be holding and living out, too. 

© Rev. David Stipp-Bethune; Teaching Elder and Pastor, The Presbyterian Church of Llanerch, Havertown, Pennsylvania

The Delicateness of a Wildly Creative God

I’ve returned from two weeks of being isolated on vacation.  My family and I spent two weeks camping in the wilds of Pennsylvania forests, most of that time in the Allegheny National Forest.  There were lots of opportunities to witness God’s creation and few chances to be “connected” by cell phone, text message, Wi-Fi, e-mail and certainly no cable television! 

Just prior to leaving on our vacation, our congregation hosted our annual Vacation Bible School and one of the activities I invited the children into was an exercise of “walking with God/Jesus.”  We walked in our neighborhood and I invited the 3-4 year olds, and the 5-6 year olds, and the 7-8 year olds and the 9-10 year olds to practice “walking with Jesus” by looking for the signs of God’s presence in the world. 

I had in mind, birds chirping, or a squirrel crossing our path, or the abundant sunshine on a beautiful day.  But I wasn’t at all prepared for how well they’d take it!  “Walking with Jesus” was a good reminder for me; and sharing with the children made it more important for me to consider the ways I connect with God in God’s wondrous world. 

Every day on our vacation we had opportunities to connect with God’s beauteous creation.  And I tried to soak up every bit of God’s presence.  We saw grand forests, substantial vistas, and really cool stuff.  It’s hard not to wonder about God’s creativeness—especially when you discover an Eastern Newt (a bright orange, lizard looking thing that ambles along on the forest floor in this really interesting way). 

It was easy “looking for God” amidst all the natural beauty that was so different from our neighborhood back in Havertown. 

But here’s what really “got me.”  One of the things I was “hoping for” for this trip, was the opportunity to see a bear—in the wilderness.  Yes.  I wanted to share wilderness space, together, with a bear.  I know.  That’s not exactly what one is taught to hope for, and if you find yourself with the bear, you are supposed to move in another direction.  But then, all of a sudden it was happening.  And not just any bear, try a mamma bear with two of the cutest cubs you could ever imagine! 

To be honest, the bear looked a lot like any bear you might see at the zoo.  And at about 50 feet, not close enough for us to feel threatened or for the bear to be too concerned.  For that matter, the bear was totally unconcerned about the people in the area—even though the people were somewhat apprehensive about the bear, particularly a mother bear with reason to be defensive about her cubs.  Yet, neither we nor the bear seemed the least bit afraid. 

The surprising thing?  Here was this big black bear foraging through bushes and shrubbery, but not making any noise whatsoever!  In fact, were it not for some other hikers, we would have missed the bears altogether.  No grunts, no rustling of leaves, no distinctive rubbing of branches.  The bears were quiet as the proverbial church mouse!  And it was breathtaking—literally. 

I held my breath, hoping this moment could go on and on, quickly trying to get a picture of the bears.  My children even made fun of me because as I took pictures, I seemed to catch only the bear’s backside each time—their giggles were far louder than the bears rustling.  It was simply awesome! 

So what awed me?  The delicate creativity of almighty God!  The delicateness of small Eastern Newts ambling in their peculiar way and big black bears rummaging the forest in almost total and complete silence!  I had to rethink Elijah’s still, small, voice and the sound of sheer silence!  The awesome sound of God—who makes no sound, like a black bear in the forest.  It makes it hard to notice God sometimes.  We have to be practiced at “looking for God” even as that sounds kind of silly.  Of course, the kids will tell you, “God is everywhere.”  But it’s kind of like that bear… you look up and are caught off guard, caught in the moment, there and yet sneaky quiet. 

Where have you met the delicateness of our wildly creative God? 

Where have you found God sneaking up on you? 

And how do you carry that with you everyday? 

The delicateness of that black bear, silently moving about the forest!  What a wildly creative and delicate God.  That’s the God I meet—delicate, wildly creative, giving me hope and inspiration in a world beset with troubles.  Wildly creative and delicate enough, un-harried enough, un-fearing enough.  I walk with that God. 

© Rev. David Stipp-Bethune; Teaching Elder and Pastor, The Presbyterian Church of Llanerch, Havertown, Pennsylvania