Jesus, the Exodus, and the Path to Freedom

I remember when I was 27 years old, wow, sitting at my desk in my bedroom in Chicago, Illinois,

in an apartment I shared with two other guys, and I remember having one of those moments

of realization, a moment of clarity so stark, I can still remember the angle of my chair

I was sitting in and the wall that I was looking at.

The realization in that moment was that life suddenly felt very hard, and things were not

going the way that I had expected them to, and I felt powerless to do anything about it.

And although this sort of realization had been building for some time, the moment came kind

of like a shock because it had come on the back of several years leading up to this point

in which I had experienced my life as one kind of blessing and gift after another.

So after graduating from college, I went to seminary in Chicago, and that began a season of life

that was incredibly rich.

Prayers that I had been praying for for years were suddenly answered.

I joined this incredible church and became part of this rich community.

My spiritual life was absolutely transformed, and there was this sense of God's presence

like nothing I had ever experienced before.

This continued after seminary.

After seminary, I had moved to England to become an assistant pastor for the next two years,

and the sense of community and God's blessing and nearness only seemed to expand during that time.

It was kind of like this four-year honeymoon of gifts and blessing and ministry and friendship.

After seminary, two years in England, I moved back to Chicago to take on a new role,

and at this point, I assumed that what I had been experiencing was the new normal.

But just as I moved back, many of the friends who had been so central to my life started moving away.

I had begun dating a girl after moving back, but while many of my friends' relationships

were beginning to lead towards marriage, mine was not.

The church, which had been so central to my own transformation, was now filled with all of these new faces,

and it just seemed to lack the community and energy that I had experienced before.

And in my own walk with God, God seemed distant, and my attempts at prayer felt dry and lifeless.

And it was this sudden realization, sitting in my chair that day in Chicago,

that the things I believed to be true about my spiritual journey,

that what I had experienced in one season was just going to continue into the next,

that this was not, in fact, the case.

And what especially hit me was not simply that things were not going the way I wanted them to,

but that I felt powerless to do anything about it.

There was no snapping of my fingers to bring my friends back,

or for my dating life to flourish,

or for my church community to meet my needs in the way that it once had,

or for God to provide on demand the experiential closeness that I had felt before.

In our gospel reading this morning from Matthew chapter 16,

Matthew 16 · chapter mention

I think that we observe perhaps a similar kind of moment of realization

among Jesus' disciples.

Up until this point, the passage that we just heard,

in the first 15 and a half chapters,

Matthew's gospel has been filled with story after story

of Jesus powerfully intervening in people's lives.

He's healing lepers.

He's casting out demons.

He's making the lame walk.

He is telling stories that upend people's expectations.

And he's preaching sermons,

like the Sermon on the Mount in Matthew 5 through 7,

in which he takes things that people thought they knew,

like the laws of Moses,

and he then interprets them in radical and revolutionary ways.

People's lives are being transformed.

In chapter after chapter,

people are having these staggering experiences of liberation

and freedom and blessing.

But then, in Matthew 16, beginning in verse 21,

something changes.

Moments earlier, Peter has just confessed that Jesus is the Messiah.

And it's a kind of high point and climax up until that point.

What had been wondered about and whispered about has now been confessed.

It's in the open.

But no sooner has Peter said this,

Jesus, you're the Messiah.

No sooner does he say this,

and Jesus pivots.

Matthew says this,

from that time on,

Jesus began to show his disciples that he must go to Jerusalem

and suffer many things from the elders and chief priests and scribes

and be killed,

and on the third day be raised.

And Peter reacts to this new information

in the way that most of us react

when we sense that change is coming.

Peter tries to argue with Jesus about it.

And in verse 22,

it says that Peter took Jesus aside

and began to rebuke him and say,

this is not going to happen to you.

Remember, Peter is a card-carrying freedom fighter.

He's a zealot.

And he assumes that at some point,

Jesus is going to lead all of them

in a violent uprising against Rome.

And so Peter has some deeply embedded assumptions

about what life with Jesus is going to look like.

But Jesus tells Peter,

not only are you wrong about what's going to happen to me,

because I am, in fact, going up to Jerusalem

not to kill but to be killed,

but if you are going to continue following me,

you also are going to need to be prepared

for this to be your reality too.

Jesus says to everyone standing there,

if anyone would come after me,

let him deny himself

and take up his cross and follow me.

For whoever would save his life

will lose it.

But whoever loses his life

for my sake

will find it.

And here, I think,

we just have to pause

for a moment

because we find ourselves

confronted by one of the

deepest mysteries and paradoxes

at the heart of the gospel

and I would say even at the heart

of the universe.

We really do not start to live

until we start to lay down our lives.

We find our life

by losing it.

This is hard to grasp

and not only because it goes against

our deep instincts for self-preservation

and self-advancement.

It's also difficult to grasp

because just as it was

with Peter and the disciples,

in the earliest stages

of our journey with Jesus,

at the earliest stages,

we are usually not able to hear

this more difficult teaching.

Notice that in the gospels,

Jesus calls people to follow him

and then they observe

or experience for themselves

one moment after another

of freedom and blessing

and deliverance.

The blind receive their sight,

the lame walk,

the deaf hear,

outsiders become insiders,

the last become first.

People begin to taste

and experience the reality

of God's kingdom

breaking into their lives

and into the world.

And that's how their journey

with Jesus begins.

And just as it was

for the disciples

in the crowds

in Jesus' day,

it is easy to assume

that the way that

God works

in the earliest stages

of our life with him

is the way that he's going

to work

in the later stages

of our life with him.

And therefore,

along with Peter,

we are sometimes surprised

and sometimes put off

when we are confronted

by a deeper work

that God wants to do in us,

which requires embarking

on a more difficult stage

of the journey.

we heard the Old Testament

reading this morning

from Exodus 14

in which

the people of Israel

miraculously escape Egypt.

The Exodus is an important story

to keep in mind

when we're reading the Gospels

because in many ways

the Gospels narrate

the way in which

Jesus' life and ministry

is inaugurating

a new Exodus story.

Think about it.

After Jesus is born,

he's at risk

of being killed by Herod

and so to escape Herod,

Mary and Joseph

flee to where?

Egypt.

It's only later

after it is safe

that Joseph and Mary

leave Egypt

with Jesus

to return

to Galilee.

And the fact

that this happens

is not just some sort

of incidental detail

the Gospel writers

decide to include.

Rather,

it is to show

that Jesus himself

will leave Egypt

and from there

will enter

into the promised land

of Israel

just like Moses

and the Israelites did.

Jesus embodies Israel

and his life

is a reenactment

of Israel's journey

from Egypt

to the promised land.

And just as Moses

led Israel

out of bondage

and slavery

to Pharaoh,

so Jesus will lead

people out of bondage

to sickness

or demonic oppression

or ultimately

out of bondage

to sin.

But as we remember

from our psalm

this morning,

Psalm 78,

Israel's exodus

was not completed

simply by crossing

the Red Sea.

They didn't go straight

into the promised land.

There was a deeper freedom

that could only happen

by spending 40 years

in the desert.

one writer

put it,

it may have taken

40 days

to get Israel

out of Egypt,

but it took

40 years

to get Egypt

out of Israel.

But of course,

Israel didn't understand this.

They were shocked

by this prospect

of wandering

in the desert,

having observed

the powerful way

that God had worked

on their behalf

at the start

of their journey,

the 10 plagues

visiting the Egyptians

and then miraculously

walking on dry ground

across the Red Sea.

They thought this

was the new normal.

They didn't understand

that leaving Egypt

was just the beginning.

in today's gospel reading,

it's clear that Peter

and the disciples

did not realize

that they were just

beginning their journey

with Jesus.

They have observed

the works of deliverance

by Jesus thus far,

and they assumed

this is the new normal.

And so when Jesus

begins talking

about suffering

and carrying a cross,

they are perhaps

understandably confused.

They don't understand

that deeper journey

that Jesus wants

to take his disciples on.

Many of us here

will be able

to look back

on our lives

and be able

to identify

an exodus moment

or an exodus season.

There was a point

at which

we experienced

God's goodness,

God's mercy,

where he reached

into our lives

and rescued us.

Sometimes maybe

just rescuing us

from ourselves.

In some cases

it may have been

sudden and dramatic.

In other cases

it may have been

outwardly undramatic

and took place

over a longer

stretch of time.

But those moments

become part

of our story.

And just as Israel

would from that day

forward always

recount the exodus story,

the way that God

had dramatically

rescued them,

we too tell

of those moments

in our story

in which God

rescued us

and graciously

intervened

in our lives.

But the long

road

to ultimate

freedom

and deeper

transformation

is not

for the most

part

marked by

a series

of endless

dramatic

interventions

by God

on our behalf.

God does do that.

Thank God.

God does not

want us

to remain

children.

The path

to Christian

maturity

means that

just as Jesus

begins to

speak to

his disciples

in a different

way,

and I would say

even a more

collaborative way,

as he does

here in Matthew 16,

at some point

Jesus will

also begin

to speak

to us

more seriously

and collaboratively

about what

following him

looks like.

He will begin

to reveal

to us

more specifically

in the unique

circumstances

of our own

lives

what it means

to carry

our cross

and follow him.

It's worth

pausing briefly

to ask what

Jesus means

by this,

to carry

our cross.

Some commentators

suggest that

burying one's cross

simply means

to patiently

endure the

various trials

of everyday

life.

On the other

hand,

some scholars

argue that

taking up

one's cross

means nonviolent

resistance to

the political

order or to

different forms

of social

oppression,

and I think

it's possible

for both of

these ways

to be part

of what it

means to

take up

our cross.

But along

with most

commentators,

I think that

taking up

one's cross

is a way

of speaking

about simply

the call

to deny

ourselves

when we

are tempted

to hold

on to

something that

competes

with deeper

devotion to

Christ.

And to

help us

do that,

to help

us learn

to get

over ourselves

and to

wean us

off those

temporal things

that keep

us from

a more

radical

freedom,

the Lord

may lead

us into

some

deserts.

The Lord

may have

rescued us

dramatically

in the

past,

he may

have

taken us

out of

Egypt,

but he's

going to

spend the

rest of

our lives

getting

Egypt

out of

us.

And that's

harder

and takes

longer.

And therefore

one of the

questions that

we might

occasionally ask

in our own

lives with

God is,

in what

areas of

my life

am I

still bound

to

Egypt?

In what

areas of

my life

am I

not truly

free?

Where

might I

be bound

by anger

or resentment?

Where

might I

still be

trapped

by my

desires?

Where

does a

longing

for

admiration

still

drive my

choices?

Where

does the

allure of

safety and

predictability

keep me

from responding

to that

inner nudge

to live

more radically?

Here's

something we

need to

remember.

The call

to take

up our

cross is

not

masochism.

It is

not pain

and suffering

for its

own sake.

What

does Jesus

say?

Whoever

loses his

life for

my sake

will

find it.

Taking

up one's

cross

is the

way to

joy.

When

Jesus

inaugurates a

new Exodus

story in

his life and

ministry,

he brings to

the blind

and the

deaf and

the oppressed

liberation

and freedom

and blessing.

But that is

not the end

of the story.

what Jesus

has liberated

in their

bodies is

simply a

sign of

what he

wants to

liberate in

their hearts.

And so

with us,

when Jesus

calls us to

take up our

cross and to

follow him,

it's not a

detour.

It's not

something just

to endure

and get

through.

It is a

continuation of

the Exodus

that Jesus

started in our

lives years

earlier.

it is that

deeper call

which will

include some

years in the

desert to

bring us into

even deeper

liberation and

freedom and

blessing.

A number of

years ago,

the New York

Times ran a

story about a

woman named

Osceola McCarty

who gave a

large sum of

money to

endow

scholarships at

a local

college in

her hometown

Mississippi.

What is

remarkable is

that she did

this at the

age of 87

and she did

not come from

wealth.

In fact,

she washed

and mended

clothes for

her entire

life.

She had

quit school

in the sixth

grade to go

to work,

never married,

never had

children.

But over the

decades, she

had felt led

by the Lord

to live as

simply as

possible and

to sock

away her

pay, which

primarily came

in the form of

dollar bills and

change.

And this

savings eventually

grew to nearly

$150,000.

The New York

Times article

reported that

Osceola decided

to give away the

money she had

saved over her

life to finance

scholarships for

black students at

the University of

Southern Mississippi.

University.

I wanted to

share my wealth

with children,

she said, and

perhaps make it so

that they wouldn't

have to work like

I did.

Once this was

announced, people

around the

university were

shocked and began

referring to it as

the gift.

And eventually,

over 600 other

people heard about

her gift, came

along and matched

it and more.

And today, that

scholarship is so

large that

significant numbers

of first-generation

black students go

to college on an

Osceola McCarty

scholarship.

And while Osceola

refused to have a

building named after

her or a statue in

her honor, the one

thing she asked

before she died was

to attend the

graduation of a

student who made

it through college

because of her

gift.

Osceola McCarty

was a faithful

member of Friendship

Baptist Church for

over 70 years, and

she had heard many

sermons during that

time.

What is clear is

that at some point

along the way, she

had truly internalized

Jesus' paradoxical

words from Matthew

16 that laying

things down is the

path to joy.

family.

Because when a

journalist from

People magazine asked

her why she didn't

spend at least some

of this money she'd

saved on herself, she

answered with a

smile, I am spending

it on myself.

Amen.

Amen.

Amen.

Amen.

Amen.

Amen.

Amen.

Amen.

Amen.

Amen.

Amen.

Amen.

Amen.

Amen.

Amen.

Amen.

Amen.

Amen.

Amen.

Amen.

Amen.

Amen.

Amen.

Amen.

Amen.

Amen.

Amen.

Amen.