Where All the Roads Lead - Mark 8:27-38

Wisdom comes with age, right? Or at least that’s what we hope, to get not only older but wiser, too. Over time, say in your forties on average, you start to integrate the experiences you’ve had so far into more informed decisions and healthier practices. Jason and I joke about how, at a certain age, all roads lead to yoga, or other kinds of low-impact exercise. The roads also seem to lead inevitably to sparkling water, fewer carbs, and an earlier bedtime. Our children mock us for this, of course, calling us boomers. They say things like, “When I’m a boomer, I’m going to wear a fitness tracker and do 30-day challenges just like you.” As our parents did to us, we roll our eyes and say, “One day, you’ll understand.” 

There’s a similar trajectory in the spiritual life. You might say that, given enough time, all roads lead to prayer. As life throws its twists and turns at us, we come to realize that we aren’t quite in as much control of things as we thought we were. The world starts to seem more complex, more entrenched in its troubles. The big questions don’t have easy answers, and we start to suspect that we have fewer answers than we used to. Wisdom and experience come with age, but so does humility. We find ourselves needing to look outside of ourselves for guidance. We begin to seek out God in a different way, out of necessity. So along with the proverbial sparkling water and yoga, all roads eventually lead us to prayer. 

As Jason put it recently, it might be boring sometimes to sit in silence on a mediation cushion, but really, where else is there to go? What else could we be doing that’s more important or helpful? Sure, we could distract ourselves with TV shows or movies. We could go down the rabbit hole that is social media. We could numb difficult emotions or circumstances with a variety of options, but ultimately, all of these activities are temporary and insufficient for meeting our deepest need. Eventually we find ourselves on the prayer cushion, knowing that distractions are not the answer in finding what we seek. I’m reminded of the passage from John that we heard a few weeks back. Jesus had been teaching the crowd complicated lessons about the bread of heaven and eternal life. When he told them that those who eat his flesh and drink his blood will live forever, he lost people. Several wandered off grumbling about the difficulty of his teaching. So he turned to his disciples and asked if they also wanted to leave. Peter answered him, “Lord, to whom can we go? You have the words of eternal life.” Really, where else is there to go? Along with the disciples, we discover that all roads eventually take us to Jesus, to his words of eternal life. 

You’ve come for some good news today, and Mark’s gospel delivers the real thing. Though, it’s not the easy stuff of distractions or quick fixes. It’s not a simple answer to a simple question. In today’s scene, Mark takes us to the cross, to the place where God responds to our deepest human needs. 

Jesus said, “If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me.” On a side note here, we often read this lesson as one about bearing our burdens or making personal sacrifice. In hard times, people who are trying to be helpful will say things like, “That’s your cross to bear.” That can be comforting, especially if it reminds us that Jesus is with us in our suffering because he suffered, too. But the significance of this exchange with the disciples is much bigger than that. Take the next line from Jesus: “For those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake, and for the sake of the gospel, will save it.” One thing we can say is that this teaching is difficult to understand. 

We know that Jesus has his sights on his own cross at this point in Mark’s gospel, and when that happens, things tend to come into focus. Distractions and half truths fall away. Jesus is ready to let go of his disciples’ misunderstandings and misconceptions about who he really is. He is not the messiah they expect, one who will usher in a new political order. He is reshaping the idea of messiah before their very eyes, leading not with earthly power but with the divine power of mercy and grace (pulpitfiction.com). He is bringing heaven to earth, revealing God’s unrelenting efforts to reconcile us to God. The cross stands as a symbol of that - of heaven touching earth, of falsehoods and immaturity falling away, of God’s grace in response to the sin of the world. When Jesus tells the disciples that they must take up their crosses and lose their lives, he’s talking about losing their self-referential, ego-centered lives in exchange for the loving and merciful way of Jesus. All roads in the spiritual life lead to losing our old lives in exchange for a cruciform, or cross-shaped one. 

One of the profound mysteries of the cross is how it can withstand all of the questions we throw at it, and still remain as God’s perfect and complete answer. The cross of Christ patiently stands at the ready for literally all of our questions. Am I redeemable? What if I have wandered too far away and the offer of salvation is off the table? What about the world? What if the world has wandered too far away? The divine response remains steady and absolute - that Christ was lifted high upon the cross that he might draw the whole world to himself once and for all. To all of our collective sin and shame and isolation, the cross responds with forgiveness, glory, reconnection. No matter how we phrase the questions of our soul, the cross answers with grace. 

This is Fall Kick-Off, the day we celebrate a new season of formation and discipleship. It’s a day of invitation to take a new class, or to try a new ministry. A few years back we changed the name from Rally Day to Fall Kick-Off. There was concern that the name Rally Day wouldn’t make any sense to newcomers who don’t yet speak Episcopalian. A football theme for kicking off a new season of ministry seemed more universal and accessible. In our enthusiasm for the newly dubbed Fall Kick-Off, we wanted to make visitors feel especially invited. But you know what we didn’t do? We did not make a banner to hang on Scott St. that read, “TAKE UP YOUR CROSS, DETAILS INSIDE.” It’s not the most inviting message (Will Willimon). 

But it is the most hopeful message there is. All roads lead to the foot of the cross, the place God expects to find us once we’ve outgrown our distractions and illusions of self-sufficiency. It’s the place God expects to find us when we need to know if there is hope for us and for the world around us. It’s the place where God answers yes. So Happy Fall Kick-Off Sunday, friends. We ask for God’s blessing as we begin a new season of learning and growing in the way of the cross. And we give thanks for all the roads that have led us to this place. In the words of St. Peter, where else would we go?