A Sermon on Matthew 16:21-28

Preached September 1, 2002

By Donald M. Tuttle

First Christian Church, Corpus Christi, Texas

If you like country music, the name Jessica Andrews may strike a chord. She is one of the new teen-age wonders of country music, along with Lila McCann and Billy Gillman. The song that cast Andrews into the spotlight was "Who I Am." It is the story of a woman who knows who she is. She sings:

If I live to be a hundred

And never see the seven wonders

That’ll be all right.

If I don’t make the big leagues

If I never win a Grammy

I’m gonna be just fine

‘Cause I know exactly who I am

I am Rosemary’s grand-daughter

The spitting image of my father

And when the day is done

My Momma’s still my biggest fan.

Sometimes I’m clueless and I’m clumsy

But I’ve got friends that love me

And they know just where I stand

It’s all a part of me

And that’s who I am.

It is hard to say why certain songs capture the hearts of listeners. Maybe it is the tune; it gets inside our heads and can’t be forgotten. Maybe it is the words; they bespeak of our own experience. But I suspect this song found an audience because it was an affirmation of identity. It speaks of a person who knows who she is, and I think that is appealing because knowing who we are today is not easy.

A few years, Richard Brooks played Assistant District Attorney Paul Robinette on the show "Law and Order." After leaving the show, he returned once as a defense attorney to argue that his client committed murder because of "black rage," pent up hostility caused by years of oppression. In one scene, his former boss and colleague in the DA’s office tells Robinette that he will have to choose which is more important, being an African-American or being a lawyer. Each was a part of Robinette’s life. Each was a part of the struggle for identity, to know who he was.

That struggle is not just TV drama. One of the most significant social changes in the last half-century is the movement of women into the paid workforce. Yet at the same time it has become harder for many women to name their primary identity. Is it wife, mother, businesswoman, feminist? Which is the core identity? Which most fully defines her life? Which comes first?

Of course, it is not just with women in the work force. It is true for us all. Have you ever thought about all the ways we identify ourselves in our culture?

"Husband/wife, mother/father, son/daughter, grandparent/grandchild."

"Single, married, divorced, widowed."

"Business executive, lawyer, doctor, farmer, laborer, retired."

"Baptist, Presbyterian, Catholic, Disciple, Methodist."

"Anglo, Asian, Arab, Hispanic, African-American."

"Gay, straight, transgender."

"American, Russian, Iraqi, etc."

The identifying terms are almost endless. If someone were to ask me, "Who are you?" I could say: "I am a straight, Anglo man, a husband, the father of two, a Disciple, a pastor, an American, a Texan, a Corpus Christian, and a former journalist." I could use any number of terms to define my identity—and so could you. But knowing exactly who we are, which title or label or person is to be at the core of all the rest is not always clear...

Unless, of course, we want to be followers of Jesus. Followers of Jesus have their identity defined by their relationship to the crucified and risen Lord. Followers of Jesus are to have as their primary identity allegiance to Jesus.

That is what Jesus meant when he told his disciples, "If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me."

When we hear that term "deny themselves," we often think in terms of self-sacrifice. Denying ourselves means passing up desserts during Lent or biting our tongue when we are angry. For many of us, "taking up our cross," is merely submitting to a bad situation—enduring a difficult marriage or living with a chronic illness. But Leonard Sweet points out that the people of Jesus’ day didn’t think of the "self" the way we do. To deny one’s self was hard to imagine since the "self" was always and completely intertwined with one’s family. Simon wasn’t Simon. He was Simon bar Jonah—Simon, the son of Jonah. When Jesus returned to preach in Nazareth, the people were shocked. "Isn’t this the carpenter’s son? Don’t we know his family?" Who he was supposed to be was to be determined by his family. And then there were the two disciples who hesitated to follow Jesus. It was not because they didn’t want to follow him, but because they had to be there for their family, to bury their father when the time came. That was their responsibility as sons and Jews. In Jesus’ day, identity was determined by one’s relationship within and among one’s family.

So for Jesus to say, "deny yourself," was to demand that his followers give up their world, to give up the human family that that told them who they were, and make Jesus their only reference point for authority and guidance. Their identity was to be first, foremost and forever set by their allegiance to him as Lord and Savior.

In essence it is the same thing Jesus had in mind when he said, "Whoever loves father or mother more than me is not worthy of me; and whoever loves son or daughter more than me is not worthy of me."

And it was what the Apostle Paul experienced in his life. He told the Philippians that he had all the right family credentials. He was a good Jew, circumcised on the eighth day, a member of the tribe of Benjamin, a Hebrew’s Hebrew, a Pharisee, zealous in pursuit of righteousness and blameless under the law. Yet he said he regarded it all as rubbish compared to knowing Jesus Christ as Lord. Whatever identity he once had, it no longer mattered because he now followed Jesus Christ.

For disciples of Jesus, our identity is determined by our relationship to our Lord.

And that identity shapes how we live.

Not long ago, I read about a play or skit for church youth groups. It was the story of Sam. Sam was a Christian but that was not the foremost part of his identity. There were other aspects of his life that gave shape to him and how he lived. Then one day Sam ran into Jesus. And Jesus asked him to "deny himself" and "take up his cross." Well, as you might imagine, as any of us might be, Sam was reluctant, but he eventually agreed. To help him out, Jesus literally gave him a cross to serve as a reminder. But the cross he received was not a pocket cross, one that he could hide in his pants pocket and pull out only when needed. Nor was it a cross on a gold chain to wear around his neck and underneath his tie. No, to make sure that Christ was at the core of his identity, Jesus gave him a big, cumbersome, inconvenient cross—one like this one—to carry.

Reluctantly Sam did. Sam the businessman carried it to work, and it changed the way he went about his business. "Ever since you got that cross," his boss told him, "you haven’t been making the same kinds of deals that put the company ahead."

And he hadn’t because his identity in Christ was more important than his identity as a businessman. He didn’t cut corners anymore. He didn’t take advantage of customers the way he once had. Followers of Jesus didn’t do such thing. But carrying the cross had a cost. His lost a promotion because of it.

Carrying the cross also changed his personal life. When Sam went out on a date, his identity as a follower of Jesus didn’t impress his girlfriend. In fact, it embarrassed her. "Can’t you just hide it for one minute?" she asked. But, of course, he couldn’t. It’s who he was. It defined his identity, and hiding it, even for a moment, would be to deny who he was.

And then there were his friends. They were not particularly thrilled when Sam showed up with his cross. As a follower of Christ, he no longer joined in the jokes and games that demeaned others. What he found interesting and meaningful differed from those around him. And his friends noticed it. They told him he would be a lot more fun without the cross, at least "fun" as they defined it.

Yet what Sam discovered was that when he denied himself, when he took up the cross, when his identity was first and foremost that of a disciple of Jesus Christ, Christ was there with him. What was lost paled next to what was gained because what was gained was that which puts everything else in order.

Of course, I don’t expect that anyone here to go to work this week carrying a cross like this one. But as followers of Jesus, your allegiance to him will define

who you are. No matter what other titles you have, no matter what other labels are placed upon you, "follower of Jesus," will best define who you are. And just as surely as if the cross were upon your shoulder, if you take that identity seriously, you will be changed. The way you related to your family and friends, colleagues and clients will be transformed. What matters will fall within the shadow of the cross—and you will have denied yourself and found out just who you really are!