Who Do You Say That He Is?

 

Who Do You Say That He Is?

Who Do YOu Say That He Is? - Audio/Visual 

Jesus and his disciples left Galilee and went up to the villages near Caesarea Philippi. As they were walking along, he asked them, “Who do people say I am?” “Well,” they replied, “some say John the Baptist, some say Elijah, and others say you are one of the other prophets.” Then he asked them, “But who do you say I am?” Peter replied, “You are the Messiah.” (Mark 8:27-29)

If you think it’s hard to walk in the dark or navigate a room with the lights off and your eyes closed, try flying a small plane at 15,000 feet. Blind. Jim O'Neill did, but not that he intended to. The 65-year-old pilot was forty minutes into a four-hour solo flight from Glasgow, Scotland, to Colchester, England, when his vision failed. He initially thought he’d been blinded by the sun, but he soon realized it was much worse. "Suddenly I couldn't see the dials in front of me. It was just a blur. I was helpless," he said. His plight gave real meaning to the phrase, "flying blind." Turns out that Jim had suffered a stroke. So, he groped around and found the radio of his Cessna and issued a Mayday. Paul Gerrard, a Royal Air Force Wing Commander who’d just completed a training sortie nearby, was contacted by air traffic controllers and took off in O'Neill's direction. He found the plane and began talking to the stricken pilot.

The commander told O'Neill what to do. His instructions were reassuring and simple: "A gentle right turn, please. Left a bit. Right a bit." He hovered within five hundred feet of O'Neill, shepherding him toward the nearest runway. Upon reaching it, the two began to descend. When asked if he could see the runway below, O'Neill apologized, "No sir, negative." O'Neill would have to land the plane by faith, not by sight. He hit the runway but bounced up again. The same thing happened on the second attempt. But finally, on the eighth try, the blinded pilot managed to make a near-perfect landing.

Can you empathize with Mr. O’Neill? Most of us can because we've been struck, perhaps not by a stroke but by a divorce, a sick child or a cancer-ridden body. Not midair, but mid-career, mid-semester, mid-life. We've lost sight of any safe landing strip, and, in desperation, we’ve issued our fair share of Mayday prayers. We know the fear of flying blind. Unlike O'Neill, however, we hear more than just one voice; lots of voices occupy our cockpit. Talk show hosts urge us to worry. New Age gurus tell us to relax. Financial advisors forecast a downturn. Preachers tell us to pray. Professors tell us that’s nonsense. Lose weight. Eat low fat. Join our church. Try our crystals. It's enough to make you want to cover your ears and run away. And what if you follow the wrong voice? What if you make the same mistake that some of the followers of self-help guru, James Arthur Ray, did?

Ray promised to help people achieve spiritual and financial wealth, suggesting that by following his advice they could "double, triple, even multiply by ten the size of (their) business." But he gave more than just financial counsel to the more than fifty clients who crowded into his 415-square-foot sweat lodge in Sedona, Arizona. They had paid him between $9,000 and $10,000, apiece, for a five-day spiritual warrior retreat. The participants had fasted for thirty-six hours as part of a personal spiritual quest, then ate a breakfast buffet before entering the sauna-like hut that afternoon. People began passing out and vomiting, but Ray urged them to stay in the lodge. Two hours later, three of them were dead.

The voices. How do we select the right one? In fact, Jesus asked a form of that question himself: "Who do you say that I am?" (Mark 8:29) He had led his disciples into Caesarea Philippi which was to religion what Wal-Marts are to shopping – every variety in one place. A center of Baal worship. An impressive temple of white marble dedicated to Caesar. Shrines to the Syrian gods. And here Jesus, within earshot of every spiritual voice of his day, asked his followers: "Who do people say I am?" They replied, "Some say John the Baptist; others say Elijah; and still others, one of the prophets." "But what about you?" he asked. "Who do you say I am?" Peter answered, "You are the Messiah." (Mark 8:27-29)

When it came to expressing the opinions of others, the disciples were, apparently, pretty chatty; everyone spoke. But when it came to this very personal question only Peter replied. Why only one answer? Was Peter so confident and quick that the others had no time to answer? Did Peter drown out the replies of everyone else? Perhaps no one else spoke because no one else knew what to say. Maybe John ducked his eyes, Philip looked away, Andrew cleared his throat and Nathanael kicked the dirt and elbowed Peter. And maybe Peter sighed. He looked at this lean-faced, homeless teacher from Nazareth and pondered the question, "Who do you say I am?" The question probably wasn’t a new one for Peter.

He must have asked it a thousand times – like the night when Jesus walked off the beach into the bay without sinking, or the day he turned a boy's basket into an "all-you-can-eat" buffet, or the time he wove a whip and drove the swindlers out of the temple. Who is this man? Peter had probably asked himself that question a million times – just like millions have done since. Serious students of Christ have stood in their own Caesarea Philippi and contrasted Jesus with the great philosophers of the world and heard him ask, "Who do you say I am?" "You're a decent fellow," some have answered. After all, if you can't like Jesus, who can you like? In Jesus, the poor found a friend and the forgotten found an advocate. Jesus was nothing if not good. True-blue. Solid. Dependable. Everyone's first choice for a best friend, right? Maybe. But particularly if you’re looking for a best friend who claims to be God on earth.

For being such an affable guy, Jesus had a curious habit of declaring his divinity. His favorite self-designation was “Son of Man.” The title appears 82 times in the four gospels, only twice used by anyone other than Jesus. First century listeners found the claim outrageous because they were acquainted with its origin in Daniel 7. In his visions, the prophet saw “One like the Son of Man, coming with the clouds of heaven ….” (Daniel 7:13) “That’s me,” Jesus was saying. In other words, every time he used the phrase, “Son of Man,” he crowned himself. Would you want a guy saying stuff like that in your neighborhood?

And what about his “I Am” statements? “I am the light of the world.” (John 8:12) “I am the bread of life.” (John 6:35) “I am the way, the truth and the life.” (John 14:6) And most stunning, “Before Abraham was born, I am!” (John 8:58) By claiming the “I Am” title, Jesus was equating himself with God. Jesus also claimed to be able to forgive sins – a privilege only God can exercise. (Matt. 9:4-7) He claimed to be greater than Jonah, Solomon, Jacob and even Abraham. (Matt. 12:38-42; John 4:12-14; 8:53-56) Jesus said that John the Baptist was the greatest man who had ever lived, but implied that he was even greater. (Matt. 11:11) Jesus commanded people to pray in his name. (John 14:13-14) He claimed to be greater than the temple (Matt. 12:6), and greater than the Sabbath. (Matt. 12:8) He claimed his words would outlive heaven and earth (Mark 13:31), and that all authority in heaven and on earth had been given to him. (Matt. 28:18-20) Does a decent guy say things like that? No, but a demented fool would.

So maybe Jesus was a megalomaniac – on par with Alexander the Great or Adolf Hitler. But, honestly, could a madman do what Jesus did? Look at the devotion he inspired. People didn't just respect Jesus, they liked him; they left their homes and businesses and followed him. Men and women alike tethered their hope to his life – impulsive people like Peter; visionaries like Philip; passionate men like John, and careful men like Thomas. And when the men had left Jesus in the grave, it was the women who came to honor him – women from all levels of society, from homemakers to philanthropists. And people were better because of him. Madmen sire madmen: Saddam Hussein created murderers, Joseph Stalin created power addicts, and Charles Manson created wackos. But Jesus transformed simple, blue-collar workers into the authors of history's greatest book, and the founders of its greatest movement.

Christ stunned people with his authority and clarity. His was not the mind of some deranged wild man, or demented fool, or deceiving fraud. But some have said so. Some believe that Jesus masterminded the greatest scheme in the history of humanity; that he out-Ponzied even “Bernie” Madoff who swindled thousands out of billions of dollars. If that’s true, then billions of humans have been fleeced into following a first-century pied piper over the edge of an eternal cliff. So, should we crown Christ as the foremost fraud in the world? No, not too quickly; not before looking at his miracles.

The four gospels detail approximately thirty-six miracles and reference many more. Among others, he multiplied bread and fish; changed water into wine; calmed more than one storm; restored sight to more than one blind man; healed contagious skin diseases; gave steps to the disabled, purged demons, stopped a hemorrhage, reattached a severed ear and raised the dead. Yet, in doing so, Jesus never grand-standed his miraculous powers; he never went for fame or profit. Jesus performed miracles for two simple reasons: to prove his identity, and to help his people.

Had Jesus been a fraudster or trickster, the Jerusalem church would have died a stillborn death. People would have denounced the miracles of Christ. But they did just the opposite. Can you imagine the apostles inviting their testimonies? "If you were a part of a crowd that he fed, one of the dead that he raised, or one of the sick that he healed, would you please share your story?" And share they did. The church exploded like a grasslands wildfire in Ramona. Why? Because Jesus performed public, memorable miracles. He healed people. He loved people. He gave no preference to class or nationality, past sins or present accomplishments. The neediest and loneliest found a friend in Jesus.

Could a lying sham love that way? If his intent was trick people out their money or worship, he did a pretty poor job of it because he died broke and abandoned. So, what if Peter was correct? “You are the Messiah.” (Mark 8:29) What if Jesus really was, and is, the Son of God? If so, then we can relish this truth: we never fly alone. True, we can’t see the runway and we don’t know what the future holds but we’re not alone. We have what Jim O’Neil had, i.e., the commander’s voice to guide us home. So, heed it. Issue the necessary Mayday prayer and follow the guidance that only God can provide.

Grace,

Randy