Margie Quinn
I have become an apologetic Christian. And I don’t mean “apologetic” as the defense of one’s faith, taught in seminaries and colleges (people offer classes on how to practice apologetics to build strong argumentative discourse skills).
No, I am an apologetic Christian in the sense that I am a person of faith who constantly apologizes for being a Christian. It stems from a good place. The more that I have studied Christianity and the harrowing history of our faith, the more I have learned about the European Christians who warped the gospel into a Christian colonial movement, killing and enslaving indigenous and black bodies all for the sake of “making believers of all nations.” Since that colonial moment, the Christian church has contributed to the religious trauma of countless marginalized groups, our LGBTQ+ siblings, people going through divorce, victims of sexual assault…we have a lot to apologize for.
So, because I have so many friends and family members who have been burned by the church, I think that I overcorrected. I hold pride for my faith in one hand and shame for its consequences in the other. I try to downplay the importance Jesus has on my life and make sure to give the caveat every time I share my vocation that “But, I’m a cool pastor….at a cool church…” In all the overcorrection, I have forgotten how to say who Jesus is to me.
On Monday, our legislators gathered back at the capitol for a special session. This is where the governor calls back everyone in the House and Senate to address bills that weren’t resolved at the last convening. While there were many bills introduced for this session including bills on mental health and substance abuse services, scholarships and financial aid and school transportation, the focus for many, as y’all know, was on the bills addressing gun reform and gun safety.
The first community event held last week was a prayer. People held hands and prayed for God’s presence in the upcoming week whatever tongue or fashion they wanted to.
I called Reverend Wesley King on Monday morning and asked, “Are you going to wear your stole down there? I don’t want to wear mine and seem self-important.” “Yes!” he said. “I think it’s important to let people know where the church stands.” In other words, we need to communicate out into the world who Jesus is to us. What a gift his words were. During the march down to the capitol, sitting in subcommittee and committee hearings, standing with ministers during a pastoral press conference and working on the safety team during the vigil on Thursday night, I wore this stole. And I can’t tell you how many people asked me, “What church do you serve?” and I got to say, “Vine Street Christian Church.” Many said to me, “I am so glad that you are here.”
I have gotten so scared of how the Church has hurt others that I have forgotten how to answer Jesus when he asks, “Who do YOU say I am?”
So, let’s look at our scripture today and start with the when. When Jesus addresses his disciples in this passage, what has just transpired is the feeding of the 5,000. Then the Pharisees and scribes demand that Jesus show them a sign if he really is who he says he is. He is being challenged by the religious powers at the time to prove that he is the Son of God. Then he takes the disciples to somewhere called Caesera Philippi. This is the district where the first king of Israel led the northern kingdom of Israel into idolatry. It’s also where the Cave of Pan lies, otherwise known as the pagan gate of Hades. This is a place with a lot of competing powers around, a place to find religious alternatives and a place for the competing voices, as Karoline Lewis says, “for your loyalty, obedience, dedication.” And it is there, in that public place, that Jesus asks his disciples to identify who he is in front of everything competing for their loyalty.
Who do people say that the Son of Man is? What’s the buzz out there? Where are we at in terms of people understanding that I am God enfleshed and stuff?
The disciples tell him, “Some say John the Baptist…others Elijah…others Jeremiah or one of the prophets…” Yeah, Jesus says, but who do YOU say that I am? Some say that I am a crazed prophet or perform miracles with the aid of Satan. But who do you say I am? Some say that I’m loyal to one political party or cultural trend; I’m your “homeboy,” I’m “hippy Jesus,” but who do YOU say that I am? Some say that I am a militant power exploiting the economically weak, a King above all others but who do YOU say that I am? How have YOU seen me witness out in the world?
My dad, after watching the events at the Capitol on Monday, called me on Tuesday morning and told me that he feels angry and doesn’t know what to do about it. He was in his men’s bible study that morning and a man confessed that he didn’t think he was Christian enough because he doesn’t go to church all the time and he doesn’t read his Bible a lot. My dad asked me, with passion in his voice, “What if the measure of our faith isn’t by how much we go to church or read the Bible but by how many tables we turn and how many Pharisees we stand up to?” What if THAT is the mark of following Jesus?
I want to embody my dad’s passion. I want to embody Peter’s confidence when I say who Jesus is to me. Peter, who does not have the best track record. He’s the one who denied Jesus over and over and over again, yet Jesus hears HIS testimony and says, “You are the rock.” Peter who said, “You are the Messiah, the son of the living God,” the one who scripture has promised will come. “What I have experienced in you, Jesus, is that you are the Messiah, the one who has been sent to us as a gateway into the kingdom of heaven,” Jin Kim writes. Kim goes on to wonder if Jesus was not responding to Peter’s particular strengths and accomplishments as a disciple (which left much to be desired) but to his testimony.” Peter becomes the rock and foundation of the church through what he says. The church! Which, I guess, isn’t a building but a people like Peter willing testify confidently about a gospel that is both personal and communal to us. I bet it was Peter’s emboldened response that got Jesus to say, “You are the rock.”
“Who do YOU say that I am?”
For Dair, Jesus is nature, grass, the sun.
For Calin, his Lord and Savior.
For Gia, he lives within her and helps her be more like him.
For Jack, he is a guardian.
For my Dad, he is a table-turner, a resistor to the competing powers of this world
For me, he is my compass for justice. He is the ultimate protestor, prophet, advocate for the marginalized. He is the most wild, inclusive love-centered liberator we’ve got. He is as vulnerable as a baby. He is a different kind of King. He breaks bread with every kind of person.
And for Peter, he is the one who has been promised. The son of the LIVING God. Not the stagnant God. The living, breathing God among us.
This week at the capitol, he was a tenacious teenager who got up and spoke in front of many, challenging us and convicting us to walk alongside of our young people when they cry out for help.
He was grieving mothers, “wailing women,” like the book of Jeremiah says, who dump ashes on their heads and wear sack cloth as a way to say, “Look! They say “Peace” when there is no peace.
This week at the capitol, he was organizers sitting in the cafeteria sharing chips and salsa with each other, sustenance for the week ahead.
He was the people passing out the water bottles to activists in that hot heat.
He was the ears to hear. He was the eyes to see. He was everywhere.
Church, I don’t think we have to apologize for who we experience Jesus to be. In fact, I think that when we go out from here to school, to work, amongst friends, at the capitol, we can go knowing that our proclamation of faith might actually appeal to people and invite them in and have them hear who HE is to us and say, “I want to check out that church.” As Abigail said to a friend, “I think you should come to church with me. You wouldn’t hate it here.”
I want to be bold like Peter and like my dad and like those young people at the capitol this week, who are not afraid to say who Jesus is to them. Maybe he’s a table-turner for you. Maybe he’s a peacemaker for you. Whoever who he is to you, the world needs to hear your testimony because it is the rock and foundation of our church. It goes out from these walls and tells the liberating, soul-saving and radical news of our Messiah, the son of the living God. Amen.