Who Do You Say That I Am

“Who do you say that I am?” This was Jesus’ question to his disciples; and in their answer, everything changes. They are no longer just listeners to his message, receivers of his miracles, and observers of his amazing ministry. They are believers. They are truly disciples. They are caught up with him and his life is now their life; his fate, their fate; his love, their love.

It is also Jesus’ question to each one of us, and in our answer is a whole new life as well. We are no longer talking about God, talking about religion and beliefs, talking about Christianity and about this one called Jesus. We are talking to him. We are saying, “You are the Christ, you are the one, you are the saving grace of God for me.” Jesus’ life is now our life; his fate, our fate; his love, our love.

Jesus poses this question to Peter and the others at Caesarea Philippi. It is a Greco-Roman city about 20 kilometers north of Galilee, an international city, a center of trade and commerce, a crossroads of the Middle East. Its original name was “Paneus,” a city dedicated to the worship of Pan. Through various occupations it changed names and now was named after Caesar, and located in the tetrarchy of Herod’s brother Phillip. It had also become a marketplace of religions, various gods and cults worshipping in the same city, all vying of the allegiance of this international city.

So Jesus turns to his followers and first asks, “Who do people say that I am? What are other people saying about me? Where do I fit in this mélange of religious ideas and claims?” The disciples answer quickly, “Some say that you are the prophet, Elijah, and some say that you are Jeremiah; some even say that you are John the Baptist.” This is to say that some believed that Jesus carried the same prophetic power and message as these great prophets. They were eager to engage in a philosophical discussion of relative merits of Jesus’ message and credentials. They were ready to talk about Jesus, what people thought of him, where he might fit in the spectrum of teachers and prophets of their times.

Caesarea Philippi was much like the modern world we live in. There is no one religion or church that dominates and controls the religious life of our world. Rather it is a marketplace of ideas and faiths, each competing for believers. Who do you believe in? What is truth? What is right? Who is God? What is God like? And we, like the disciples

gathered in the marketplace of religious ideas, are more than willing to engage in this debate about the merits of one faith or the other, one idea of truth or the other. The newspaper regularly features stories about the various churches, denominations and religions in our region and in the world. Travel down New Hampshire Avenue here in Silver Spring and see every type of church, temple, shrine you can imagine. Christianity — Roman Catholic, Protestant, evangelical, Pentecostal, “born-agains,” Islam, Hinduism, Buddhist, Wiccan, traditionalist, new age, spiritualities of various forms and beliefs.

Within our own churches, we struggle to answer the question: just what do you believe in anyway. In the Presbyterian Church there are struggles around theology and biblical interpretation. Who should be included? What is sin? Who can be ordained?

For some the questions have become more important than the answers. Everyone has something of the truth within them, they say. Everyone is correct, no one is excluded, many paths to the same end. I picked up a recently published hymnal of a denomination here in the USA that is likewise open to all beliefs. Everyone is right. Everyone has their way to God. In perusing the over 600 hymns included, I noticed that in an attempt not to offend anyone, even those who believed in nothing, there were very few mentions of the word “God” in the hymns, and only one mention of the name “Jesus.”

But there in Caesarea Philippi, in the marketplace of religions, Jesus presses beyond talk about who he is. He asks directly, “Who do you say that I am?” The Bible doesn’t record it, but I am sure there must have been a long silence after he asked his question. Some disciples averted their eyes. Direct eye contact is the surest way to get called on to answer a question in class. Others squirmed and were uneasy. Others thought hard, remembered all they had seen and heard, they tried to put it together; they weighed the arguments back and forth. They thought about what the Pharisees were saying, their families, their friends. They tried to come up with an answer.

Then Peter steps up — bold, impetuous Peter — the same Peter who just recently stepped out of a boat in a storm, tempting Jesus to save him, and sank into the waves, the same disciple who never quite understands, but who speaks out anyway. The same Peter who would deny that he ever knew him three times the night of Jesus’ arrest and trial. Peter says, “You are the Christ, the Son of the living God.” It is not that he figured it out here. He had not put it all together, added up all the arguments and concluded that Jesus was indeed the messiah. Most people concluded exactly the opposite. Peter wasn’t being rational and logical.

But Jesus looked at him, and asked him directly, “Who do you say that I am?” And Peter gave the answer he was given, “You are the Christ, you are the messiah, you are the one we have been looking for, you are the Son of God.”

There comes a time when we must no longer talk about God, talk about Jesus, talk about religion, faith and theology. We must answer the same question Jesus asked Peter, “Who do you say that I am?” No debate, no explanations, no qualifications or exemptions. Just an answer.

I have been a Christian all of my life. I was raised in a Christian family. I went to church every Sunday. I made my profession of faith as a youth and joined the church like all other youth did. But I was like the disciples before this time in Caesarea Philippi. I was a part of the group. I followed Jesus, but I had not answered his question to me yet. It had not become personal to me.

I spent a long time answering the first question however. In college, I was a religion major, philosophy minor. I studied all the great religions of the world. I delved into Hinduism and Buddhism. I studied forms of shamanism and Taoism. I was immersed in existentialism and phenomenology. I practiced meditation and yoga. I sought mystical experiences.

But I never could shake the question Jesus asked of his disciples, “Who do you say I am?” No matter how much I wanted to answer all the other questions, I still needed to step up like Peter, and give my answer.

Now it is clear that Peter did not understand what he was saying. In the very next exchange with Jesus, he gets it so wrong that Jesus calls him the embodiment of evil, “Get behind me Satan!” And even as we step up like Peter to answer Jesus’ question to us, we do not understand it all. We still get it wrong. We still have many things we do not understand. We have many questions to ask. After all my study of religion, after all my study of theology, my advanced degrees and experience, there is still much I do not understand. I still do not understand evil. I don’t understand why the innocent suffer. I don’t understand why there is so much pain and injustice in the world. I don’t understand many things about the mysteries of this same Jesus who I confess as Lord and savior. I don’t understand the suffering of the cross. Why was it necessary for the one who was the embodiment of love to suffer and die? I don’t understand the mystery of the resurrection. Alive? How is he alive? Where? Many things I don’t understand.

But one day, many years ago now, in a time as clear to me as today, I stepped forward. It was a time of great turmoil and change in my life, a time of suffering and death in the family, a time of searching and frustration, a time of joy and discovery of passionate and abiding love. On that day, I stepped up, looked him in the eyes, felt the warmth of his touch and love in his heart, and I said, “You are the Christ, the Son of the living God. You are God for me. You are the one I have been looking for. Your life is my life. My life is yours, from now on.”

That was many years ago, but everyday since and even today, I step up and make that same confession. Everyday I say it again, in my prayers in the morning, in my laying down at night, in a thousand words and in silent awareness. Everyday I say it again. Everyday is that day in Caesarea Philippi. Everyday I ask the same questions. Everyday I struggle with the same mysteries. And everyday I say again, “You are the Christ, you are the one, God for me.” And everyday it is as fresh, surprising and transforming as the first.

That’s why today, no matter how long ago you first said it, or even if you have never truly in your heart looked him in the eye and said it, today is your day to answer. I ask you again today to open you heart, look back over all the events of your life, past and present. Why are you here? Who brought you here? Who is leading you? Who is loving you? Who is holding you? Who is saving you?

And when all the other questions are asked, listen to the one standing before you and ask, “Who do you say that I am?” Listen for your answer.