"The Word became flesh and made His dwelling among us.” This is the event that makes these days holy. We rightly call the Christmas season the holi-days not because these days are particularly pleasurable (though they often are) nor because the family and friends with whom we celebrate are inherently divine (though they are blessings that can point to the Divine One). No, we rightly call Christmas a holi-day because it recalls the holy day when “the Word became flesh and made His dwelling among us.” When the Word of God took on human flesh in Jesus of Nazareth, common and ordinary stuff such as human flesh and this world’s daily turning became truly holy.
Peter learned this Christmas lesson when he had a vision of a sheet filled with various non-kosher animals. (Acts 10:9-16) The Lord commanded Peter to “kill and eat,” but Peter resisted defiling himself with things that he still saw as unclean (read: not holy). The Lord then told Peter, “Do not call anything impure that God has made clean.” (Acts 10:15) This lesson is then extended beyond non-kosher food to non-kosher people. The Gentile centurion named Cornelius came to Peter, and Peter explained to him the implications of the Word becoming flesh: “You are well aware that it is against our law for a Jew to associate with or visit a Gentile. But God has shown me that I should not call anyone impure or unclean.” (Acts 10:28)
And so, because the Word became flesh, these days are indeed holi-days. Moreover, because the Word became flesh, our neighbors are holy people. By all appearances they might be common, impure, unholy, etc. Nevertheless, they were made in God’s own image and they were “made clean” when the Word of God assumed human flesh in Jesus. That is why to love them is to love God, and to hate them is to hate God. It’s true: “Whoever claims to love God yet hates a brother or sister is a liar. For whoever does not love their brother and sister, whom they have seen, cannot love God, whom they have not seen.”
Alas, the day on which the Word became flesh is not merely a past event that we commemorate on Christmas. No, the Word continues to take on human flesh; Jesus Christ still lives among us bodily in two interrelated ways. First, Jesus’ body is among us in the Meal called Holy Communion. It is just as He said: “Take, eat; this is my body.” (Matthew 26:26) Second, Jesus’ body is still among us as the church, as the people who gather around the Meal in faith, hope, and love. We need not go looking around aimlessly for some abstract presence of God in the world. He lives among us concretely in the Meal and in the people made holy by that Meal.
The Christmas miracle might appear rather common when we look at the ordinary bread and wine of Communion and at the ordinary people who constitute the church. But to the eyes of faith, these things and these people are holy beyond measure. Said differently, to the ones who believe God’s Word, these things and these people are the very presence of God living among us. They are to be loved not out of some phony piety wrought out of compulsion. No, they are to be loved because they are the continued presence of God in the flesh, and because God and His gifts are lovely.
Thursday, December 30, 2010
Tuesday, December 21, 2010
To Pay Him Homage
The story of the magi is retold frequently in the weeks leading up to Christmas. These wise men came to Jerusalem seeking "the Child who has been born King of the Jews." (Matthew 2:2) They stated their purpose for seeking Him thusly: "We observed His star at its rising, and have come to pay Him homage." (Matthew 2:2) They were "overjoyed" when they saw His star, and they bowed down before the newborn Jesus and presented Him "with gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh." (Matthew 2:10-11)
The magi are rightly admired for their wisdom and for the honor they they rendered to Jesus. Though the Child they saw was like all other children in appearance, they trusted that this One was indeed their long-awaited King. I've heard it said before that the "wise men" of today still seek after Jesus and still acclaim Him as their King. I agree: to recognize Jesus as King and to honor Him with our gifts are expressions of the highest wisdom.
So the magi are to be admired and, more importantly, emulated for their faith in Jesus. Perhaps what gets overlooked in the story of the magi, however, is the role that Herod played. When Herod heard of Jesus' birth, "he was frightened." (Matthew 2:3) The newborn King was a threat to Herod's reign. And so Herod sought after Jesus not in order to bring Him gifts and to acclaim Him as the true King, but in order to do away with Him. The most interesting thing, however, is that Herod told the magi that he wanted to find Jesus so that he, like them, "may also go and pay him homage." (Matthew 2:8)
While everyone likes to see himself as one of the magi at Christmas, there is in fact an ongoing temptation to be Herod. We can all say that we're seeking Jesus in order to "pay Him homage." Like Herod, however, underneath that phrase there might be a deep-seated fear that Jesus means an end to our own kingship. Jesus the King threatens our autonomy (a word which literally means "self rule"), which can be a bit discomforting.
So, like Herod, we can pay lip-service to Jesus and, by all appearances, celebrate His birth. In our hearts, though, there is an ongoing effort to maintain our autonomy by driving out His Spirit. Herod ordered a massacre of the children, hoping that Jesus would be among them. In like manner, today's Herods get impatient with and angry at others. (Recall Jesus' teaching in Matthew 5:21-22 that such anger is tantamount to murder.) We might blame it on "holiday stress," but that's not a valid excuse for driving out the Spirit of Christ and killing one another with anger.
If we are to be the magi (and not Herod) at Christmas, it is not enough to say that we're seeking Jesus "to pay Him homage." Today's would-be magi are called to receive the Spirit of Christ, whose primary characteristic is love. (See 1 Corinthians 13, where love is identified as the primary gift of the Spirit.) In one sense, then, would-be magi must be passive recipients of the gift that is Christ. We are to let Him be our King, which is quite different than trying to make Him King over everyone else while our hearts remain quite autonomous from His reign.
Faithful submission to the Spirit of Christ is the passive duty of those who want to be like the magi. Meanwhile, the active role of today's would-be magi is to worship Jesus by bringing Him gifts. How are we to bestow gifts upon Jesus? Jesus' teaching in Matthew 25:40 is noteworthy: "Just as you did it to one of the least of these who are members of my family, you did it to me."
Christmas easily can turn into a time of stress, worry, and anger. It's all too easy to become another Herod. And yet Herod was a fool whose fear of Jesus' reign led him to murder. In obvious contrast, the magi were the wise men who recieved the gift of Christ. The truly wise are those who receive this Gift, who let Him reign in their hearts, and who bring Him gifts of their own by caring for "the least of these." In doing so, the truly wise really do "pay Him homage."
The magi are rightly admired for their wisdom and for the honor they they rendered to Jesus. Though the Child they saw was like all other children in appearance, they trusted that this One was indeed their long-awaited King. I've heard it said before that the "wise men" of today still seek after Jesus and still acclaim Him as their King. I agree: to recognize Jesus as King and to honor Him with our gifts are expressions of the highest wisdom.
So the magi are to be admired and, more importantly, emulated for their faith in Jesus. Perhaps what gets overlooked in the story of the magi, however, is the role that Herod played. When Herod heard of Jesus' birth, "he was frightened." (Matthew 2:3) The newborn King was a threat to Herod's reign. And so Herod sought after Jesus not in order to bring Him gifts and to acclaim Him as the true King, but in order to do away with Him. The most interesting thing, however, is that Herod told the magi that he wanted to find Jesus so that he, like them, "may also go and pay him homage." (Matthew 2:8)
While everyone likes to see himself as one of the magi at Christmas, there is in fact an ongoing temptation to be Herod. We can all say that we're seeking Jesus in order to "pay Him homage." Like Herod, however, underneath that phrase there might be a deep-seated fear that Jesus means an end to our own kingship. Jesus the King threatens our autonomy (a word which literally means "self rule"), which can be a bit discomforting.
So, like Herod, we can pay lip-service to Jesus and, by all appearances, celebrate His birth. In our hearts, though, there is an ongoing effort to maintain our autonomy by driving out His Spirit. Herod ordered a massacre of the children, hoping that Jesus would be among them. In like manner, today's Herods get impatient with and angry at others. (Recall Jesus' teaching in Matthew 5:21-22 that such anger is tantamount to murder.) We might blame it on "holiday stress," but that's not a valid excuse for driving out the Spirit of Christ and killing one another with anger.
If we are to be the magi (and not Herod) at Christmas, it is not enough to say that we're seeking Jesus "to pay Him homage." Today's would-be magi are called to receive the Spirit of Christ, whose primary characteristic is love. (See 1 Corinthians 13, where love is identified as the primary gift of the Spirit.) In one sense, then, would-be magi must be passive recipients of the gift that is Christ. We are to let Him be our King, which is quite different than trying to make Him King over everyone else while our hearts remain quite autonomous from His reign.
Faithful submission to the Spirit of Christ is the passive duty of those who want to be like the magi. Meanwhile, the active role of today's would-be magi is to worship Jesus by bringing Him gifts. How are we to bestow gifts upon Jesus? Jesus' teaching in Matthew 25:40 is noteworthy: "Just as you did it to one of the least of these who are members of my family, you did it to me."
Christmas easily can turn into a time of stress, worry, and anger. It's all too easy to become another Herod. And yet Herod was a fool whose fear of Jesus' reign led him to murder. In obvious contrast, the magi were the wise men who recieved the gift of Christ. The truly wise are those who receive this Gift, who let Him reign in their hearts, and who bring Him gifts of their own by caring for "the least of these." In doing so, the truly wise really do "pay Him homage."
Saturday, December 11, 2010
Presents, Lights, & Parties
These are the things which mark the holiday season. We buy and give gifts; we decorate with lights, ornaments, and wreaths; and we come together for parties that usually include a lot of food and drink. I’ve often found that dedicated, well-meaning Christians think it is their duty to complain about these activities in order to focus on the true meaning of Christmas. That is, there is a tendency among Christians to adopt a negative attitude toward things that we would otherwise enjoy quite thoroughly, and we adopt this attitude because we think it’s our Christian duty to make sure everyone’s thinking about Jesus.
This sort of approach to the traditional activities preceding Christmas makes Christians a bunch of killjoys. Don’t mishear me: there are indeed times when Christians must indeed be killjoys, namely when the “joy” is in fact nothing more than a perversion of joy that leads participants down the path of sin against one’s God and one’s fellow man. (The perverted enjoyment we have in gossiping about people is a good example.) At such times, the Christian is rightly a killjoy.
However, the activities of gift-giving, decorating, and celebrating have the potential to serve the rightful point of the Advent season: pointing ahead to the Christ who came and is to come. For example, giving gifts to one another can be an appropriate expression of God’s gift in Christ. If our gift-giving is to recall and point to the gift of Christ, then it need not be extravagant. We would do well to recall that the gift of Christ arrived in a lowly manger. Nevertheless, Christ is indeed a gift, and our gift-giving can point to the primary gift God has bestowed on us.
Similar things can be said about decorating and partying. To fill the darkest time of the year with lights is an apt symbol for the coming of Christ. The Gospel of John speaks of Christ in this way: “In Him was life, and that life was the light of all mankind. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.” (John 1:5) Putting up lights and decorating with things that are lively (i.e. wreaths, Christmas trees, etc.) need not be activities that distract from Christ. If done faithfully, they will point not to themselves but to our Lord.
Parties can do the same thing. Certainly the coming of Christ is something to be celebrated. Jesus speaks of the Last Day as a banquet at which we will eat and drink with Him. (See Luke 13:29 and 22:28-30, among others.) Thus, enjoying one another’s company while we eat good food and drink good wine can serve as a great foretaste of that feast to come.
In short, Christians need not be killjoys during Advent. Many of the activities of this season can serve the same function as John the Baptist. It is written about John that “he himself was not the light; he came only as a witness to the light.” (John 1:8) The same is true of us and of the things we do. The moment the activities of the holiday season point merely to themselves or to us, or if we begin to think that everything has to be “just perfect,” we have mistaken their purpose. When that happens, we must remember John the Baptist’s words: “He must increase, I must decrease.” (John 3:30)
However, insofar as the activities of Advent point to the One who came and is to come, they are to be fervently enjoyed. Indeed, our hopeful anticipation during Advent and our joyful celebration of Christmas are previews and rehearsals of the coming Kingdom of God.
This sort of approach to the traditional activities preceding Christmas makes Christians a bunch of killjoys. Don’t mishear me: there are indeed times when Christians must indeed be killjoys, namely when the “joy” is in fact nothing more than a perversion of joy that leads participants down the path of sin against one’s God and one’s fellow man. (The perverted enjoyment we have in gossiping about people is a good example.) At such times, the Christian is rightly a killjoy.
However, the activities of gift-giving, decorating, and celebrating have the potential to serve the rightful point of the Advent season: pointing ahead to the Christ who came and is to come. For example, giving gifts to one another can be an appropriate expression of God’s gift in Christ. If our gift-giving is to recall and point to the gift of Christ, then it need not be extravagant. We would do well to recall that the gift of Christ arrived in a lowly manger. Nevertheless, Christ is indeed a gift, and our gift-giving can point to the primary gift God has bestowed on us.
Similar things can be said about decorating and partying. To fill the darkest time of the year with lights is an apt symbol for the coming of Christ. The Gospel of John speaks of Christ in this way: “In Him was life, and that life was the light of all mankind. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.” (John 1:5) Putting up lights and decorating with things that are lively (i.e. wreaths, Christmas trees, etc.) need not be activities that distract from Christ. If done faithfully, they will point not to themselves but to our Lord.
Parties can do the same thing. Certainly the coming of Christ is something to be celebrated. Jesus speaks of the Last Day as a banquet at which we will eat and drink with Him. (See Luke 13:29 and 22:28-30, among others.) Thus, enjoying one another’s company while we eat good food and drink good wine can serve as a great foretaste of that feast to come.
In short, Christians need not be killjoys during Advent. Many of the activities of this season can serve the same function as John the Baptist. It is written about John that “he himself was not the light; he came only as a witness to the light.” (John 1:8) The same is true of us and of the things we do. The moment the activities of the holiday season point merely to themselves or to us, or if we begin to think that everything has to be “just perfect,” we have mistaken their purpose. When that happens, we must remember John the Baptist’s words: “He must increase, I must decrease.” (John 3:30)
However, insofar as the activities of Advent point to the One who came and is to come, they are to be fervently enjoyed. Indeed, our hopeful anticipation during Advent and our joyful celebration of Christmas are previews and rehearsals of the coming Kingdom of God.
Monday, December 6, 2010
Whoever Wishes to Become Great
“Whoever wishes to become great among you must be your servant, and whoever wishes to be first among you must be slave of all. For the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve and to give his life a ransom for many.” (Mark 10:43-45)
I’m taking a class on the Gospel of Mark this semester, and this week our class discussed these verses. Admittedly, sometimes it seems as if the goal of seminary education is to blunt Jesus’ sayings and to train future pastors who are a bit more moderate than the One they serve. Let me explain.
When we came across these verses, there was talk about how important self-care is and that we wouldn’t be able to be true servants if we didn’t first take proper care of ourselves. This is common in the ELCA (the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America), which has a “wholeness wheel” to encourage balance and overall well-being. It seems to me that this is a capitulation to a worldliness that promotes an “enlightened self-interest” and a “do what’s best for yourself” attitude. This is not the way of self-denial to which Jesus call his followers.
If we consider the great history of saints, we’ll notice that they didn’t put proper self-care very high on their list of priorities. They wouldn’t be considered balanced people, and they would utterly fail the “wholeness wheel” standard. They weren’t balanced people, but they were godly people. Ultimately, this is infinitely more important.
Jesus is clear: His would-be followers are called to a life of self-denial. His call is to faith, hope, and love, and there’s a good chance that this won’t look very “balanced.” (Loving your enemies? Putting your ultimate trust in a promise that can’t be seen? That’s not very wise according to the world’s standards.) If personal well-being is our goal, then Deepak Chopra fits the bill. But if our goal is “the peace of God which surpasses all understanding” (Philippians 4:7), then only Jesus will do.
I’m taking a class on the Gospel of Mark this semester, and this week our class discussed these verses. Admittedly, sometimes it seems as if the goal of seminary education is to blunt Jesus’ sayings and to train future pastors who are a bit more moderate than the One they serve. Let me explain.
When we came across these verses, there was talk about how important self-care is and that we wouldn’t be able to be true servants if we didn’t first take proper care of ourselves. This is common in the ELCA (the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America), which has a “wholeness wheel” to encourage balance and overall well-being. It seems to me that this is a capitulation to a worldliness that promotes an “enlightened self-interest” and a “do what’s best for yourself” attitude. This is not the way of self-denial to which Jesus call his followers.
If we consider the great history of saints, we’ll notice that they didn’t put proper self-care very high on their list of priorities. They wouldn’t be considered balanced people, and they would utterly fail the “wholeness wheel” standard. They weren’t balanced people, but they were godly people. Ultimately, this is infinitely more important.
Jesus is clear: His would-be followers are called to a life of self-denial. His call is to faith, hope, and love, and there’s a good chance that this won’t look very “balanced.” (Loving your enemies? Putting your ultimate trust in a promise that can’t be seen? That’s not very wise according to the world’s standards.) If personal well-being is our goal, then Deepak Chopra fits the bill. But if our goal is “the peace of God which surpasses all understanding” (Philippians 4:7), then only Jesus will do.
Friday, December 3, 2010
Luther Quote
I came across this quote while reading today and I thought I'd share (and reflect a bit):
"I am more afraid of my own heart than of the pope and all his cardinals. I have within me the great pope: self." - Martin Luther
Luther wrote this at a time when the Roman Catholic Church was in disrepair, so for him to call his own self the greatest pope emphasizes how untrustworthy our own selves are. Luther was insistent throughout his life that we are to trust not in our selves, but in the Word of God. (That song "Listen to Your Heart" comes to mind. The Christian response to that seemingly innocent and worldly-wise saying: No.) In other words, we are to listen to and trust in Jesus Christ, both His commandments and His promises. There is perhaps no greater record of Jesus' commandments and promises than that found in the Sermon on the Mount in Matthew 5-7.
Admittedly, I hear Jesus' commandments frequently as I go through daily life. More problematically, I often hear those commandments as burdens. It's because I disbelieve Jesus' promises, which are inseparable from His commandments. And so I plug my ears to His call and I thereby pass on His blessing. Luther's quote is quite true for me: I have within me a powerful, untrustworthy ruler. His name is Self.
"I am more afraid of my own heart than of the pope and all his cardinals. I have within me the great pope: self." - Martin Luther
Luther wrote this at a time when the Roman Catholic Church was in disrepair, so for him to call his own self the greatest pope emphasizes how untrustworthy our own selves are. Luther was insistent throughout his life that we are to trust not in our selves, but in the Word of God. (That song "Listen to Your Heart" comes to mind. The Christian response to that seemingly innocent and worldly-wise saying: No.) In other words, we are to listen to and trust in Jesus Christ, both His commandments and His promises. There is perhaps no greater record of Jesus' commandments and promises than that found in the Sermon on the Mount in Matthew 5-7.
Admittedly, I hear Jesus' commandments frequently as I go through daily life. More problematically, I often hear those commandments as burdens. It's because I disbelieve Jesus' promises, which are inseparable from His commandments. And so I plug my ears to His call and I thereby pass on His blessing. Luther's quote is quite true for me: I have within me a powerful, untrustworthy ruler. His name is Self.
Wednesday, December 1, 2010
"You Are the Christ"
Anyone who reads the New Testament will notice: Peter repeatedly didn’t get it. He briefly walked on water, but then lost faith and sank like a brick. (Matthew 14:28-33) At the transfiguration of Jesus, he offered to build three tents, one each for Moses, Elijah, and Jesus. He thought Jesus was merely another lawgiver or prophet, and so God had to make things clear: “This is my Son, the Beloved; with him I am well-pleased; listen to Him.” (Matthew 17:5) And perhaps the peak of Peter’s embarrassing acts was his triple denial of Jesus before the cock crowed once. (Matthew 26:69-75)
There was a moment, however, at which Peter seemed to get it right. When Jesus asked the disciples, “Who do you say that I am?”, Peter answered, “You are the Christ, the Son of the living God.” (Matthew 16:15-16) Upon this confession, Jesus blessed Peter and called him the rock on which He would build His church. Given Peter’s track record of errors, his answer to Jesus’ question is surprising. Alas, Peter understood.
Or so it seemed. Two things need to be pointed out regarding Peter’s confession that Jesus is “the Christ, the Son of the living God.”
1. Peter’s confession was not a self-willed achievement. It was not something he saw in Jesus, like some “spark” of divinity, that led him to his answer. Nor did Peter reach his conclusion by reading a bunch of books about Jesus or by carefully evaluating Jesus’ teaching and ministry. Nope. What Peter saw was a rather plain-looking Palestinian Jew who used to work as a carpenter. This makes his confession even more remarkable. How did he come to his answer?
Jesus explained it thusly: “Flesh and blood has not revealed this to you, but my Father in heaven.” (Matthew 16:17) This explanation still stands today. When Christians rightly ascribe titles to Jesus such as Lord, Savior, King, Messiah, etc., we “see” that this is true only because the Father reveals it to us. We “see” Jesus’ identity only through faith in the Father’s revelation, only through trusting Jesus Himself who is revealed in the breaking of bread. (See Luke 24:28-35.)
2. Peter’s confession was followed by a clear demonstration that he didn’t quite know what he was saying. When Jesus began to tell the disciples of His impending sufferings and death, Peter rebuked Him. He had called Jesus the Christ, and now it was time for Jesus to start acting the part.
Peter’s rebuke of Jesus demonstrates the peril of titles for Jesus. It is fully possible to rightly confess who Jesus is, but then to “fit” Him into our preconceived notions of what such a title entails. For liberals, this often means that the “Christ” favors inclusiveness, progressive policies, and Barack Obama. For conservatives, the “Christ” supports family values, the American way of life, and George W. Bush. Either way, we simply ignore the biblical Jesus who disrupts our preconceived notions.
What is Jesus’ response to all of this? “Get behind me, Satan! For you are a stumbling block to me; for you are setting your mind not on divine things but on human things.” To set our minds on divine things is to deny ourselves and to deny our preconceived notions of who Jesus should be. It is to take up our cross, to follow Jesus in faith, and to bear one another’s burdens in love. (See Matthew 16:24 and Galatians 6:2.) This has little appeal to “flesh and blood.” Peter didn’t want a Christ who suffered shamefully, and neither do we. There is, however, a promise to those who follow the real Christ: “Those who lose their life for My sake will find it.” (Matthew 16:25)
Ultimately, knowing Jesus and rightly confessing His identity depends entirely on God’s revelation grasped through faith. (It is not an achievement of our wills or intellect.) And such faith entails discipleship to the real Jesus, not to some Jesus we've imagined and who looks awfully similar to our own likings. In other words, such faith entails discipleship to the Jesus who commands that we love one another and who promises that we will thereby find true life.
Jesus is indeed the Christ, the Son of the living God. However, such a confession is fruitless apart from faith in God's revelation and apart from following Jesus. Peter learned that the hard way. ("Get behind me, Satan!" Ouch.) Nevertheless, to those who trust and follow Jesus, such a confession is the fruitful and joyful consequence of a life lived in Him.
There was a moment, however, at which Peter seemed to get it right. When Jesus asked the disciples, “Who do you say that I am?”, Peter answered, “You are the Christ, the Son of the living God.” (Matthew 16:15-16) Upon this confession, Jesus blessed Peter and called him the rock on which He would build His church. Given Peter’s track record of errors, his answer to Jesus’ question is surprising. Alas, Peter understood.
Or so it seemed. Two things need to be pointed out regarding Peter’s confession that Jesus is “the Christ, the Son of the living God.”
1. Peter’s confession was not a self-willed achievement. It was not something he saw in Jesus, like some “spark” of divinity, that led him to his answer. Nor did Peter reach his conclusion by reading a bunch of books about Jesus or by carefully evaluating Jesus’ teaching and ministry. Nope. What Peter saw was a rather plain-looking Palestinian Jew who used to work as a carpenter. This makes his confession even more remarkable. How did he come to his answer?
Jesus explained it thusly: “Flesh and blood has not revealed this to you, but my Father in heaven.” (Matthew 16:17) This explanation still stands today. When Christians rightly ascribe titles to Jesus such as Lord, Savior, King, Messiah, etc., we “see” that this is true only because the Father reveals it to us. We “see” Jesus’ identity only through faith in the Father’s revelation, only through trusting Jesus Himself who is revealed in the breaking of bread. (See Luke 24:28-35.)
2. Peter’s confession was followed by a clear demonstration that he didn’t quite know what he was saying. When Jesus began to tell the disciples of His impending sufferings and death, Peter rebuked Him. He had called Jesus the Christ, and now it was time for Jesus to start acting the part.
Peter’s rebuke of Jesus demonstrates the peril of titles for Jesus. It is fully possible to rightly confess who Jesus is, but then to “fit” Him into our preconceived notions of what such a title entails. For liberals, this often means that the “Christ” favors inclusiveness, progressive policies, and Barack Obama. For conservatives, the “Christ” supports family values, the American way of life, and George W. Bush. Either way, we simply ignore the biblical Jesus who disrupts our preconceived notions.
What is Jesus’ response to all of this? “Get behind me, Satan! For you are a stumbling block to me; for you are setting your mind not on divine things but on human things.” To set our minds on divine things is to deny ourselves and to deny our preconceived notions of who Jesus should be. It is to take up our cross, to follow Jesus in faith, and to bear one another’s burdens in love. (See Matthew 16:24 and Galatians 6:2.) This has little appeal to “flesh and blood.” Peter didn’t want a Christ who suffered shamefully, and neither do we. There is, however, a promise to those who follow the real Christ: “Those who lose their life for My sake will find it.” (Matthew 16:25)
Ultimately, knowing Jesus and rightly confessing His identity depends entirely on God’s revelation grasped through faith. (It is not an achievement of our wills or intellect.) And such faith entails discipleship to the real Jesus, not to some Jesus we've imagined and who looks awfully similar to our own likings. In other words, such faith entails discipleship to the Jesus who commands that we love one another and who promises that we will thereby find true life.
Jesus is indeed the Christ, the Son of the living God. However, such a confession is fruitless apart from faith in God's revelation and apart from following Jesus. Peter learned that the hard way. ("Get behind me, Satan!" Ouch.) Nevertheless, to those who trust and follow Jesus, such a confession is the fruitful and joyful consequence of a life lived in Him.
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