Sermon for the Second Sunday in Lent

Readings
Genesis 17:1-7, 15-16
Psalm 22:22-30
Romans 4:13-25
Mark 8:31-38

“If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me.” It is with these iconic words that Jesus invites us into a dimension of the Christian life that many, if not most of us would prefer to ignore.

There is nothing attractive or appealing about the idea of taking up one’s cross. Despite its prevalence in our churches and in our jewelry, the cross is, nonetheless, a symbol of suffering, pain, and death. The call to take up our cross is an invitation by Jesus to a path that is so counter-cultural that it is fair to say that it is almost anathema to our ears.

Imagine then, what such a call would have sounded like to those who first heard it, to those who on a daily basis saw this Roman vehicle of execution and torture. The call to take up one’s cross daily is a call to embrace pain, to embrace suffering, to embrace shame, to embrace loss, and ultimately to embrace one’s own destruction. It flies in the face of our basic survival instinct and in the face of what we grow up being taught.

Who among us does not recognize the truth that pain is bad, and pleasure is good? That failure and shame are to be avoided and success and positive appraisal to be embraced? Who among us does not avoid destruction and suffering and instead pursues life and wellbeing?

But if we are attentive to Jesus’ message in general, and today’s Gospel passage specifically, what we will recognize is that Jesus is clear that the path to life and transformation is trod through suffering and loss.

He has no illusions about where his own path is headed and teaches his disciples of it. And when Peter challenges him on such teaching, Jesus rebukes him calling him no less than Satan and chiding him that he is not connecting to a deeper spiritual reality.

The challenge Peter faced, as do we, is that the things we deeply desire do not come except through transformation. And, unfortunately, transformation always has a cost. We need look no further than the ultimate transformation made real in the life of Jesus, his resurrection. The truth of the resurrection is that it would not have happened without his suffering and death. Historically, we have called this truth the “paschal mystery” because in some way it defies our human understanding. But, if we stop to think about our own lives, we may well discover that the paschal mystery is already afoot in us and in the life we have already lived.

In my own experience, whether speaking to my development from adolescence into adulthood, from being single into having a long and meaningful marriage, or my movement from being simply a practitioner of my vocation to it being something I live and breathe, all of my life has been marked by the paschal mystery. Every major positive development, each deepening, each transformation has come in the wake of either failure, conflict, or pain.

The truth of my existence is that I have learned little from success. Now don’t get me wrong, that’s not to say I haven’t enjoyed my successes. It feels good to succeed, to achieve, and to receive the praise of others. But in those moments I have, most often, found myself complacent, willing to substitute the joy of the moment for anything deeper. In those times I have neither grown nor changed. And why would I? There was no apparent need.

No, the real growth, the real change, and the real transformation that leads to deeper and more meaningful life have come when life has been grueling. It’s in my moments of struggle or suffering that I’ve been forced to go deeper or, perhaps even more difficultly, to go outside the boundaries of the world I have created for myself. It is in those moments of destruction, when everything I have held onto as a substitute for God has been erased, that I am compelled to embrace a truer self and a deeper reality.

Now am I saying that suffering is, in and of itself, a good thing? No. But, placed in its proper context, suffering is a vehicle towards transformation and wholeness. It can be a conduit for grace. It can be the path to resurrection.

And let’s be clear, this is a daily journey. We’re not just talking about major moments of crisis. This is something we must lean into each and every day of our lives. Who among us does not recognize the truth that we suffer shocks and bruises on a daily basis? They may not be fatal blows, but they are nonetheless moments of pain and loss. When such moments come, our call is not to numb out the pain or live in denial. Our call is to embrace those moments with grace and grit trusting that God is at work within us and within what we are enduring.

Jesus is calling us to take up our cross daily not in some sort of masochistic way, but that we might know and experience the transformation that he knows. He is inviting us into the depths of grace, peace, meaning, joy, and love. He is inviting us to grow more fully into the image of God. He is inviting us to be transformed, to be resurrected, again and again in this life and in the life to come.

So, when life turns difficult let us not say “God forbid.” Rather let us take up our cross and follow Jesus. Let us lean into the pain. Let us come to know ourselves in a new a deeper way. And through it all, let us embrace the paschal mystery at work in us that we may be transformed.