That time when

http://www.usccb.org/bible/readings/080416.cfm

Jeremiah 31:31-34
Matthew 16:13-23

Remember that time when Jesus gathered a bunch of your friends together and got you to point out that he was the Christ, the actual factual living Son of God who became a man? You know, when Jesus was sitting around, having a beer, loosening you all up with some important news. And, whammy, you felt the Holy Spirit take over your body and the words just came out of your mouth like thunder. “You are the Christ, the living son of God!”

Uh … No? 

Didn’t happen?

OK, then. How about the time when your grandchild, or a good friend, or your brother, or a quizzical fellow sitting next to you on a bus asked you, “Who the dickens is this Jesus guy, anyway?”

And you said, without thinking, just letting God do his thing with your face, “He’s the Christ, the living Son of God!” Bold as can be. Confident as a 100 mile per hour fastball.

Maybe you said that. 

Or, more likely, you said, “I think this is my stop. Yeah, this is it. Right here at whatever street and something avenue.”

If you haven’t ridden on a city bus in 25 years, it was probably your grandchild, and he was washing his hands and you were helping to get the water temperature just right. “Hey, grandpa. Who’s Jesus?”

Your eyeballs did a tick tock back and forth, and you asked, “Well, what did your mom tell you?” 

“He cured people who didn’t have insurance,” your grandson dutifully explained. “And they killed him for it. He’s supposed to come back, though, and Mom said we don’t want to be here for that part.”

And you said, “Hmmm. You should run that by her again.”

Or, maybe it was your brother, the half wit and full cynic. He asked you out of the blue when he saw your bible sitting on a table in the living room, “What did Jesus do for you, anyway? He didn’t seem to be around during my bankruptcy.” 

And you said, “Honestly? That’s your position on Jesus?”

Your brother may not be like that. Probably a sister? Could be you don’t have any relatives that outspoken.

It might have been a friend of yours, then. The one who asked you, “Do you think Jesus was really God? Is that even possible?”

And you said, “I’m pretty darn sure it’s impossible, unless you’re really God, of course.” And you kept talking for a few more minutes, throwing in the words theology, doctrine, scripture and opined for a while about your take on the mystery of the Trinity. Then your friend changed the subject.

One of those things, or something similar probably happened. Not your finest moment. 

And then there was the next experience.

How about that time that Jesus finally laid out his plan for the future. You and Jesus’ other buddies sat under a tree and Jesus said, “Here’s what’s going to happen.” He explained that the lawyers, professors, and bishops were going to conspire to have him silenced. But, they weren’t going to be able to do it, so they were going to be forced to concoct a frame up, which Jesus was going to allow. “And then they’ll have me killed.” He then continued, saying something about three days going by and …..

That’s when your brain kicked your butt out of your seat and you shot straight up in the air and took Jesus off to the side. “Hang on a second,” you said, taking Jesus by the elbow, walking him to the other side of the tree. You waved at the other fellas to stay put while you had a little chat with the miracle man. 

“What in holy applesauce is all this about you getting killed?”

Jesus looked at you, giving you the “Really?” look. But you go on.

“You know that me and my friends on the other side of this tree are simply not going to let that happen.”

And then Jesus called you Satan.

You’ve been called a fool, a boastful idiot, a manipulative son of a gun, a pain in the patute, a gol-darned liar, and the worst friend on God’s green earth. But you’ve never been called Satan before. 

No? Didn’t happen?

Well, maybe you were sitting in the doctor’s office and the emotionally challenged and numbed up medical professional told you that the tests aren’t good and you have a disease you can’t spell, and since 70% of folks who get this disease are pushing up daisies in a year, you should get your freaking “house in order.”

After you go more ballistic than is appropriately warranted, a nurse tells you to listen to what God has to tell you. And you tell her that the doctor is the son of Satan, and she must have a phone number for the clinic who fixes this, doesn’t she?

That’s not you? You can do 50 pushups and jog a mile while smiling? 

Maybe you’re the one who invested your hard earned cash into a fund, or a property, or a business that has shown decades of upside. You go to Mass five days a week. The signs are clear. No worries here, you are assured. Then, the fund manager quits, a rare mouse that looks like a 3 inch dolphin gets on the endangered list, or optical disk storage goes the way of the hula hoop. Your investment spirals into dust.

“This is your plan, God?” you yell at 7:00 a.m. from your pew, and your fervent friends begin whispering about one of them going to get a net, but they don’t move. Then they fall to their knees and murmur encouraging prayers that the red-faced priest will weave your outburst into a profound message of God’s graces. They hope you will listen. 

You point to the cross and exclaim that Henry your fund manager is Satan.

Or, you live fine on a safe pension. Your husband, though, shocks you into next week and confesses that he’s been having an affair for two months, three days, and six hours. He has found the true love he always wanted, and he can’t cause you any more pain, so he’s taking the pickup and camper and moving to Costa Rica with Esmeralda. 

Your friends cry with you, hold your hand, help you burn his album collection, which took way more charcoal lighter than you all expected. They tell you that God is in everything, even this disaster. He has a plan for you. Your husband has been taken over by Satan, and God, along with your friends, will get you through this.

For several weeks, maybe months, you don’t listen to what God has to tell you, because you don’t like this plan of going through disease, dust, and betrayal at all. 

You read Matthew 13, and hear about Peter telling Jesus that he didn’t like the plan that Jesus had. And you see that Peter had cut Jesus off. Jesus was beginning to tell the disciples about being “raised up” after three days. That everything was happening in order for Jesus to be raised up.

Maybe you’re like me, and didn’t see that part about being raised up as the point of Jesus' prophecy of his death. To be raised up meant that everything else had to be part of the plan.

“You are being an obstacle, Peter.”

In fact, all of life’s interruptions end up with Jesus adjusting his planned explanation about all of us being raised up. He was about to tell the disciples that they would all be raised up too, and be with him for eternity, but that message would have to come later, because Peter interrupted.

“You are thinking like a human being.”

Of course we think like human beings. How does that put us closer to Satan? 

“Think like God.”

How can we think like God? 

“They will conspire for you to suffer, too. They may kill you, too. But then, I will raise you up.” 

The diseases, and dried up investments, and betrayals will not destroy us. God loves us, and we must tell people to listen to what God is doing. 

Listen to the loving nurse, those praying for you, and your friends who God has sent you. We will be raised up. Tell others. That’s how we think like God.

And then we go to the clinic to fix our disease, start up a new business, and become prayer warriors. 

Maybe we take a bus ride, but what we deeply want to do is let the Holy Spirit speak for Jesus when the question comes up.

I'm hoping I don't interrupt.