Faith Foundations for Lent: Self-Denial

February 27, 1994

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Scripture: Mark 8:31-38

“If any want to become my disciples, let them deny themselves, and take up their cross, and follow me.” - Mark 8:34

Someone has called the Gospel of Mark a Lenten Gospel, and the designation is strikingly apt. Not only does Mark devote a full 40% of his material to the events of the last week of Jesus’ earthly life---one scholar describes it as “a passion narrative with an extended introduction”---he establishes the clear direction of the story from the start---AT LEAST FOR THE READER.

All the way through in this fast-paced Gospel, plot, setting, and details point to the Cross...AT LEAST FOR THE READER.

Even at the Baptism, way back there where Mark begins the story, Jesus’ destiny is hinted at. Mark tells us the very words God speaks to Jesus from the clouds: “Thou art my Son, my Beloved; with thee I am well pleased.” Those words come from one of the Servant Songs of Isaiah, which speak of the role of suffering in redemption. Jesus would have identified them instantly, and so would an alert reader. From the very outset, the die is cast.

And no sooner does the public ministry get under way than the storm clouds begin to well up around Him. You can see the forces of opposition arraying themselves in His path.

The story moves inexorably and with gradually increasing momentum toward Calvary. The tension rises almost with each succeeding chapter….AT LEAST FOR THE READER. Mark is nudging us toward the climax, making sure we catch what the disciples were so slow to grasp---that the Cross is central to understanding Jesus and the nature of Christian discipleship. This is a Lenten Gospel if there ever was one, and here in our passage today is where any doubt that it might be something else is abruptly sundered.

The text for this 2nd Sunday in Lent stands in almost the exact center of the book. Mark contains 16 chapters; this is Chapter 8. The pace was already fast; now it picks up. The net around Jesus tightens, not because He is being trapped, PASSIVE voice, but because He is deliberately walking into it, ACTIVE voice.

What was only hinted at before is now expressed openly. What was merely whispered previously, is now said plainly. What was only implicit prior to this is made explicit with a ripping away of the last vestiges of subtlety.

Mark tells us in words that reverberate like the beating of a drum: “Then He began to teach them that the Son of Man must undergo great suffering and be rejected by the elders, the chief priests and the scribes, and be killed....”

BOOM, BOOM, BOOM! Did he stop there or go on? That’s not the end of the sentence. There is another phrase as it has come down to us. The text adds, “And after 3 days rise again.” Was that part in the original or was it tacked on after the fact in the light of the Resurrection? I don’t know. Get a room full of New Testament scholars together and you can get a high test argument going in a minute....I don’t know.

If Jesus did include that mitigating touch, though, that positive addendum originally to the rest of the pronouncement, there’s certainly no indication anybody picked up on it.

All they heard was what they didn’t want to hear, the severe words, news that hit them like a blow in the solar plexus.

When He said it, they couldn’t believe it. Or if they believed it, they couldn’t accept it. Or if they accepted it, they couldn’t stomach it.

And in a way, how can you blame them? Mark is notoriously hard on the disciples, maybe in part because he wasn’t one of them. Both Matthew and Luke, writing later, soften Mark’s harshness at critical points, and we probably should be more tolerant of their foibles, too.

After all, they didn’t have written gospels to instruct them as modern readers have. They didn’t have the advantage of retrospect. They didn’t know how the story was going to turn out....And what experience they did have up to this point hadn’t really prepared them.

From their perspective this was simply too stunning an announcement to assimilate. HOW COULD IT BE?

Hadn’t He called them to come and be with Him? Hadn’t they left behind boats and jobs and families to follow Him? It was hard work, they quickly learned. There weren’t many tangible benefits.

They didn’t always know where they were going to sleep, or what they were going to eat...if anything....It wasn’t exactly paradise, maybe, but it was exciting, rewarding, fulfilling....

Granted they couldn’t always understand Him, and granted they sometimes faced opposition, but surely they were making progress. Just look around. Weren’t positive things happening? The very fact that He had called disciples to learn and help Him meant the word was bound to continue and grow...didn’t it?

WHAT IS THIS NEW TEACHING, COMING AT THIS POINT? No wonder it stunned them.

Peter, as usual, is the spokesman, for the group...outspoken, impetuous Simon Peter. Not only is he baffled, he’s angry. The Record says he took Jesus aside. I’m surprised he showed that much self-restraint. It would have been perfectly in character for him to have blurted it out in front of everybody.

“Come here, Lord. You and I gotta talk.” Doesn’t it make a vivid picture in your mind? The two pull apart from the others, maybe not even out of earshot... I can see Peter’s hand drawn up into a fist, face red, voice cracking with emotion.... AND HE REBUKED HIM, Mark says. Peter rebuked Jesus, at least rebuke is the word the RSV uses. Some of the other translations say “reproved”, or “took him to task”, but that’s wimpy talk. REBUKED is the word, I’m sure, he verbally laid Him out.

The very thought of somebody doing that to Jesus sends shivers up your spine. This is a mere man, a mere fisherman taking on the Lord God of the universe. The very idea makes you shudder, but it reflects the intensity of the reaction this new teaching produced.

Now lest you worry about Jesus’ ability to handle a frontal attack, Mark immediately goes on to say that Jesus rebuked Peter right back...same word, same intensity, even stronger, if anything. The incident must have been played out within earshot, because the very next sentence says, “Turning and looking at His disciples, He rebuked Peter, and said, ‘Get thee behind me, Satan, for you are setting your mind not on divine things, but on human things.’”

Wow! Now notice! Doesn’t that response sound somehow familiar? Where have we heard words like these before? Of course....

It’s exactly the way Jesus spoke to unclean spirits in Markan accounts of exorcism.

The language of rebuke to Peter is the same language He used to silence the demons inside a person possessed. We talked about a case in the Synagogue just a couple of weeks ago.

And it’s the same language, in almost the precise words He used in speaking to the Tempter out in the Wilderness, when He was wrestling there for 40 days to hammer out His Messianic strategy....

“Away with you, Satan”, He said then. “Get thee behind me, Satan”, He says here. The very choice of words indicates Jesus recognized in the challenge of Peter the voice of the Devil himself, the ultimate spiritual Adversary.

Mark is making it crystal clear that what is happening here is not a theological debate between colleagues, not a mild dispute between associates, or a simple difference of opinion on a matter of Christology....Are you kidding?

What’s happening here is a fundamental conflict, a basic encounter between the purpose of God and the powers of evil that would thwart that purpose. The language carries the freight of the violent collision between good and evil, truth and falsehood,

God and Satan. The intensity is equal to that of any other scene in Mark in which the powerful presence of God in Jesus is lined up against the unclean spirits which maim, cripple, and destroy. The wrong thinking of Peter is no less damaging than any of the other diseases Jesus had to face down.

AND what makes it so scary, at least what frightens me about this scene, is that the focal point of the opposition arrayed against Jesus is not embodied in someone crazy, or demented, or obviously distraught, or paralyzed, or blind. It’s not embodied in somebody demonstrably evil at all. IT’S EMBODIED IN HIS CLOSEST FRIEND AND STRONGEST SUPPORTER.

Peter isn’t against Jesus; he’s for Him. He’s trying to protect Him. He’s operating out of what he perceives as Jesus’ best interests. His intentions are as pure as the driven snow. AND YET HERE, AT THIS MOMENT, HE IS NOT ON GOD’S SIDE.

It may have been the absolute low point of Simon Peter’s spiritual pilgrimage up to then. And it reminds us that SINCERITY ALONE WON’T CUT IT AS A SUFFICIENT MEASURE OF CHRISTIAN STANDARDS AND CONDUCT.

Fred Craddock makes a comment on this passage that strikes to the heart of it. “Even the best intentions are so clouded by fear, self-interest and doubt that penitence, not pride, is the appropriate posture for disciples. Our most charitable projects often conceal a route to the Kingdom that bypasses Golgotha.”

Oh...it doesn’t end there, of course. Thank God. The story doesn’t end there. IN time, Peter came to grasp the deeper truth of the stringency of the Christian calling...In time, He learned the uncompromising seriousness of the nature of Christian discipleship.

Roman Catholic legend has it, you know, that not many years later, not many years after this bottom point of spiritual understanding, Peter himself met his own death as a follower of Christ, also by being crucified like Jesus, but UNLIKE Jesus, crucified not in an upright position, but UPSIDE DOWN. He asked his executioners to do it that way, saying he was not worthy to die in the same manner as his Lord.

He learned, ultimately, to his exceedingly great credit, and to the honor and glory of God. The others that day did, too, eventually, though it didn’t happen overnight, and it didn’t happen without the breathtaking impact of His own peerless example.

Why did it take so long? Why did the announcement of it conjure up so much animated resistance? Why did it stir up so much emotion in Peter and all the rest when He told them plainly what the road ahead held for him?

Well, I think it’s because we’re not used to seeing sterling leadership, nobility, honor, beauty, purity, and all those qualities we consider highest and best being dishonored and ridiculed. It just doesn’t seem right. It doesn’t seem FAIR. Instinctively we recoil against it.

YET HERE WAS THE BEST WHO EVER LIVED, the FINEST, without question, who ever walked on the face of the earth, deliberately denying, deliberately turning His back on what would appear to be His own best interest, and placing Himself at risk, in danger, in mortal jeopardy, in fact, courting it, for the sake of someone else, indeed, many someone elses. That kind of stature doesn’t come along every day. It shames our inherent selfishness, and makes us nervous. No wonder they reacted emotionally.

And when He goes on to say, as He did in the passage now not simply to one man, or to 12 men, but to the CROWD as well, that is, to whom it may concern, that the call to be one of His disciples means also assuming that posture of self-denial, it hits us with the same force of uneasiness with which it hit them...doesn’t it?

“If any want to become my disciples, let them deny themselves....” Surely there’s an easier way, Lord....Surely there’s another route to get us where we’d like to go. So much of what You say is so wonderful.

We like the bit about abundant life---that’s exactly what we want...abundant life, rich life, exuberant life...a life with meaning and zest and purpose. We all want that. Surely there’s a way we can have it without all this hard stuff.

What has changed? 20 centuries have passed and we’re still looking for loopholes.

BUT THERE IT IS....AND THERE IT REMAINS....as hard to digest today as when He first said it. We’ve neglected it, we’ve glossed over it, we’ve rationalized it, we’ve tried to offer people the positive side of religion while sweeping the rest under the rug...

We’ve preached forgiveness without repentance, crowns without crosses, salvation without sacrifice, and life without death...but there it is. AND THERE IT REMAINS, the truth about reality and authenticity and wholeness and genuine life...the truth about DISCIPLESHIP to the One who really knows.

“If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow Me.”

Now can we bring it down closer?

Can you translate that into modern times? What does that mean, anyway, today, right here, in the last decade of the 20th Century. Not many of us are asked today, as 20th Century Christians, to give up our bodies to be crucified. Thank God. Oh, there may be exceptional situations where following Jesus calls for the voluntary assumption of literal, physical pain, but those are rare.

The greater likelihood for us, and maybe at heart the most difficult challenge, involves the same, basic principle, though...the challenge to give up total control of our lives, to surrender control of the full gamut of decision making about conduct and action and turn it over to a higher authority, to let go of having to push for what WE want, that the welfare of others and the will of God might take precedence.

We’re talking something BIG here, and, in a way, something unnatural, and yet something noble, and something beautifully sacrificial.

The lover, who out of genuine respect refrains from urging sex on his partner for the sake of a higher value, being willing to wait until a proper time for consummation---that’s self-denial....

The mother, who keeps her old winter coat and wears it another year so she can put the money saved into an account for her child’s education---that’s self-denial.

That Olympic athlete---what was her name...I know it wasn’t Tonya[1]---she was a speed skater, I think. She contributed one of her kidneys to her brother.

There was a match; she had two good ones; he had none. Just a couple of weeks before the Olympic games were to start, she gave him one of hers, even though it would mean the almost certain sacrifice of her strength when the games began.

She didn’t get a medal at Lillehammer, but I think she won a prize....That’s self-denial.

Remember the old story of the praying hands? You’ve seen the painting, I’m sure, Albrecht Durer’s masterpiece of those gnarled, rough, coarse hands, covered with callousness from years of heavy work, but somehow sensitive and beautiful, touching together in an attitude of prayer. Remember the story?

They’re the hands of the man who paid for Albrecht Durer’s art education. He started as an artist, too, but sacrificed his own career to let Durer continue his when there was not enough money for both. He worked in a restaurant so his more talented friend could go on with his studies.

The hard work took its toll, but Durer saw him praying one night, saw those hands that made his training possible, and in gratitude immortalized them for the inspiration of succeeding generations.

Who’s the hero, the painter, or the subject? That’s self-denial.

And when it reaches large enough proportions, the sheer power of it batters down our defenses. Ernest Gordon was for a number of years Dean of the Chapel at Princeton University. He was a prisoner of the Japanese during the 2nd World War, assigned to the infamous prison camp at Chungkai, in Thailand, the one made famous by the novel and movie, “Bridge Over the River Kwai”.

In his book, “Through the Valley of the Kwai”, Gordon tells of an incident that took place one evening just outside the camp, at the close of the work day.

The prisoners were lined up. The tools were being counted, and just as the work party was about to be dismissed, a Japanese guard declared that a shovel was missing. He insisted someone had stolen it to sell to the Thais. He strode up and down in front of the men, ranting and denouncing them for their wickedness, their stupidity, and most blatant of all, for their ingratitude to the Emperor. He demanded to know who was the guilty party, and when no one responded, he erupted with rage. In broken English, he screamed, “All die, all die.”

And to show he meant business, he aimed his rifle at them and looked down the sight, ready to fire at the first man he saw in the cross hair.

At that moment, a lanky Scottish Argyll soldier stepped forward, stood stiffly at attention, and said, “I did it.”

The guard unleashed all his pent-up hatred. He kicked the prisoner, beat him with his fists, and still the Argyll stood at attention, blood running down his face, but not making a sound.

His silence and dignity drove the guard crazy. He seized his rifle by the barrel, and lifted it high over his head. Then with a final howl, he brought the butt down on the skull of Argyll, who sank limply to the ground and did not move. Though it was perfectly evident that he was dead, the guard continued to beat him and kick him stopping only when he was exhausted.

The men of the work detail picked up their comrade’s body, shouldered their tools, and marched back to the compound. When the tools were counted again at the guardhouse, no shovel was missing.

Gordon comments that when the story of what happened was told and retold throughout the camp, admiration for the Argyll transcended hatred for the guard.

That’s self-denial, and the power of it when it is simply overwhelming.

Is it costly? YES! It most certainly is. But isn’t nearly everything that is truly worthwhile costly? Is effective child raising cheap?

Is the establishment of a solid marriage cheap? Is the defense of freedom and liberty cheap? What arrogance to think realizing genuine spiritual maturity, and a living, vital relationship with history’s most alive personality can be brought off without having it cost something.

The proper question is not is it costly. The proper question is IS IT WORTH IT?

I want to suggest that whatever the price to be paid in denying yourself, in losing yourself in something bigger than you are, in looking out for number ONE when number ONE isn’t you... whatever the price to be paid in giving up personal control of the reins of your life so that the rightful Driver can come in and free you...the cost is far less ultimately than the cost of NOT doing it.

The opposite of self-denial, in the final analysis, is not self-assertion, but spiritual deadness, the inability finally to love at all, which I think is the meaning of HELL.

“If any want to become my disciples, let them deny themselves, and take up their cross, and follow Me.”

It’s not an invitation to death, it’s an invitation to life...or an invitation to life through death.

As W.M. Horton says, “We do not pity the parent who sacrifices himself for his child, or the patriot who sacrifices himself for his country, if he does it with open eyes, aware of the risk he is taking. Secretly we envy him, and wish we had the courage to do the same.”

Then he adds, “I confess that as I think upon the life of that supreme Lover and supreme Sufferer, ‘who for the joy that was set before him endured the cross, despising the shame’  I am never for one moment tempted to pity him for the faith in God that led him to his death. Rather I am disturbed by an uneasy sense that we sophisticated modern folk, with out pitiful timidity and our persistent self-seeking are living in darkness and misery when we might follow Him through suffering into light and joy.”

Don’t you have the sneaky feeling that he’s right?

And don’t you have the even stronger feeling that Jesus is right?

“If any want to be my disciple, let them deny themselves, and take up their cross, and follow me.”

In the Lenten season we hear it anew.

IT’S AN INVITATION TO LIFE, AND IT STILL STANDS. 

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[1] Tonya Harding-former Olympic skater stripped of title and banned for life from USFSA-sanctioned events