The Question



When Jesus turned to the disciples and asked them directly, “But who do you say I am?” he wanted to know what they believed. He wanted them to make a commitment. He wanted to know what they had to say. I’m sure it was an uncomfortable moment for the disciples.



For the most part, we human beings like to remain passive and non-committal in most areas of life. Such caution likely has its roots in our survival instinct, or it may be a learned behavior. In any case, most of us like to hedge our bets in life. At the interpersonal level this human characteristic manifests itself through our fear of relationships. We just don’t want the entanglements that a relationship brings along. Accordingly, we are often satisfied with knowledge about other people, rather than to experience other people directly.



Most of us have a fear of commitment. Indeed, relationships require that we take risks and engage with others. When we are in a relationship with someone we gain knowledge of them directly rather than learning about them through others.



Yet, in God’s grace we do rise above this fear of commitment. Every now and again we take a risk and enter into a relationship. We make a friend. We put ourselves on the line. We risk the entanglement. We make ourselves vulnerable. We open ourselves to something beyond ourselves.



However, most of the time we remain closed to others. We are wary of relationships. We want to be loved, but fear rejection. We want to help others, but fear making ourselves vulnerable to others. We want to grow spiritually, but fear what that growth may cost us if we lose control over our tightly scripted lives.



So, our fear paralyzes us and keeps us mired at the level of knowledge about people, rather than knowledge of people. Yet most of us muddle through life pretty well. We end up loving others and are in return loved. We find ways to reach out to others and in return our lives are enriched and blessed. Although we seem to only half-heartedly commit ourselves most of the time, things do seem to work out.



However, as we read this text before us this morning, let us ask ourselves, “Is this how God intends for us to live?” Muddling through life without passion and conviction?



There are some relationships in life that demand our full involvement. (1) Parenting is a full-time commitment. It is not something we can do well in a passive way. (2) Marriage is another relationship that demands our full passion. Loving our spouses is not something we can do passively or with detachment. (3) The third relationship that demands our full attention and passion is the one I really want us to focus on this morning – our relationship with Jesus Christ.



Discipleship is not something we do passively or in a detached manner. To be a disciple demands something of us; to give up control over our lives and allow God to guide and direct our living. In our text this morning this is the type of relationship Jesus is looking for from his disciples.



As this passage begins, Jesus is having a rather detached and dispassionate conversation with his friends. This is the type of low-key conversation most of us are quite comfortable with. The group has gathered at Philippi. The setting for this passage is not insignificant. Philippi during N.T. times was a grand place. It was a city carved out the side of Mt. Hermon (the mountain peak  which towers over the Galilean basin and all of Israel) with beautifully terraced areas featuring an impressive view across the Palestinian plains.



It was a place of grandeur and meditation. A place well suited to philosophical reflection and detachment. It was in this place that Jesus asked the disciples an abstract contemplative question, “Who do people say that the Son of Man is? In other words, what did the disciples know about Jesus from others?



Jesus’ question is deceptively simple. It reminds me of my college philosophy classes when a professor would ask questions such as “What is truth?” Or “How do you know that?” These questions appear quite simple, but the answers are anything but simple. Such questions are not easily answered. They are intended to be reflected on at length.



Let us use our minds eye for a moment and try to picture this scene from our passage. The disciples and Jesus are lounging about on one of those beautiful mountain-side terraces. Maybe it’s after lunch, and one or two of the disciples have succumbed to the dulling combination of a full stomach and abstract thought – they have discreetly dozed off.



The ones who are awake respond to Jesus’ abstract question with a variety of answers. “Well some say you are the Baptist”, others say maybe Elijah, still others speculate that you may be Jeremiah or another of the great prophets. You see, they are having a nice non-threatening conversation.



Then, with no warning, the walls come crashing in on the disciples with Jesus’ next question, “But who do you say that I am?” Quiet time is over. Now, they are all awake. The conversation is no longer one about what others think. It is now what do they think? The point is no longer knowledge about, but knowledge of! The quiet solitude of philosophical reflection has now evaporated. Now there is electricity in the air. To answer this question honestly will mean the disciples must take a risk. They may even be risking persecution with their answer.



The question had been asked. Christ demanded an answer. Many times before this, the disciples had asked this very question among themselves, yet did want to be overheard. They had speculated among themselves about who this man Jesus really was. If they answered him with their hearts, what would he say? There was no way out, they had to answer and state clearly what they believed. Christ wanted them to say what they believed. He wanted them to speak out of a knowledge of, rather than merely a knowledge about.



Peter spoke first. Peter committed. He took a risk. Peter proclaimed the truth of the gospel, “You are the Messiah, the Son of the Living God!” He spoke with confidence as he stepped outside of himself to profess his belief in Christ. Led by the Holy Spirit, Peter proclaimed the identity of the one before him.



I can just imagine the heaviness of the air as Peter’s profession hung there waiting for Jesus to respond. The other disciples were nervously making eye contact with one another, shifting from one side to another. What would Christ say? Peter had given voice to their deepest hope and fondest desire, that Jesus was the one they had waited for, that he was the anointed one.



They didn’t have to wait long. For this was the Son of the Living God. Christ responded to Peter with joy, “Blessed are you, Simon Son of Jonah!”



Christ confronted them because he wanted to know what they believed, and he wanted them to know what they believed.



So it is with us today. What do we believe? Discipleship is not knowledge about Christ, it is a relationship with him. It is knowledge of him. We can learn sophisticated biblical interpretation theories, we can learn all the right words, we can go through all the expected motions, but these things are meaningless unless they arise out of our personal encounter with the “Messiah, the Son of the Living God.”



The question posed to the disciples is posed to each one of us. We can try to avoid it. We can try to escape it. But Christ remains ever before us asking again and again, “Who do you say I am?”



What is our answer? Some of us try to avoid the question by reporting what others have already said “Well, most people say you are God’s Son”. Some try to evade the question by pointing to their acts of mission saying, “Certainly, I am a Christian I give to the poor and the needy among us.” Both responses evade the question. Reporting what others say, says nothing about what we say. Moreover, acts of kindness and mercy to the poor are just as easily performed by a Buddhist, Muslim, or even a kind-hearted atheist as they are by a disciple of Jesus Christ.



Allow me to illustrate this point by sharing with you something that happened to me many years ago. I went before the elders of my home church in Florida and shared with them my desire to serve Christ by becoming a minister. I was before them because all candidates for the ministry must have the endorsement of their home church’s session.



The examination went well. The elders asked me questions about my sense of call and what I felt God was calling me to do in my ministry. I was young and full of idealism, so I talked in grand terms of feeding the world, meeting the needs of the poor, and caring for the sick. The elders were supportive and encouraging – for the most part.



Finally, after what seemed an eternity, the pastor started to bring the exam to a close, when one the elders inquired if she could ask one more question. She looked me right in the eyes and said, “This is all very good and I applaud your desire to help folks in need, but you do not need to be a minister to do that; why do you want to be ordained?” I answered her, “Because I care for peoples’ souls and want them to know the love of Christ.” She nodded approvingly.



You see, this elder was a social worker and she knew well that you do not need the gospel to feed and clothe people. She knew that faith was more than helping others. She knew that the foundation of all that we do in the church is based on the answer to Christ’s question, “But who do you say I am?”



I believe the question that elder posed to me that night was Christ’s way of asking me, “Marc, who do you say that I am?” I have never forgotten that moment. It has shaped and formed my ministry ever since.



As this passage from Matthew reveals, there is no half-way discipleship. Knowledge about Jesus is not discipleship under Christ. We can do good works. We can serve the poor. We can give money overseas. But none of these things answers the basic question of discipleship, “But who do you say I am?”



Our personal encounter with Christ is necessary if we hope to have a knowledge of the gospel, rather than a knowledge about the gospel. I am not necessarily speaking of a dramatic emotional experience, but rather a heartfelt and humble profession of faith in Christ, a confession of faith whereby we acknowledge Jesus Christ as the source of our life and the hope for our future. A profession in which we lift up to God all that we are and all that we do.



Our relationship with Christ cannot be passive. There are no third-party Christians. Christian discipleship is always an “I-Thou” enterprise. Christ stands before us, on this day and on every day of our lives asking us a simple and direct question, “Who do you say I am?” Let us open ourselves to the Holy Spirit as did Peter and respond, “You are the Messiah, the Son of the Living God”? So may it be for us. Amen.



Reverend Marc V. Mason

July 17, 2005

Trinity Presbyterian Church

Travelers Rest, SC