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Following Can Be Difficult                        Mark 8:34-38                   March 8, 2009

When I worked in an office in New York, Bob, a colleague of mine, had a little Lucite paperweight on his desk that had a picture of a dogsled etched on it. Below the sled was a quote: "If You're Not the Lead Dog, the Scenery Never Changes."

That quote, I discovered, is actually a portion of one of the more famous sayings of the late Lewis Grizzard, a folksy humorist and newspaper columnist who was known for his quotations - both wise and funny.

For example, while thinking, I'm sure, about politics and politicians, Grizzard wrote," The public, more often than not, will forgive mistakes, but it will not forgive trying to wriggle and weasel out of one." I can think of lots of folks who should have learned that piece of advice.

And, just for laughs, he also wrote, "I grew up in a very large family in a very small house. I never slept alone until after I was married."

But his dogsled quote is his best, I think, and it also serves as the title of one of his books. The full quote is "Life is like a dogsled team. If you're not the lead dog, the scenery never changes."

This quote has resonated with corporate managers and motivational speakers all across the landscape. Those that embrace it as a philosophy suggest that in a dog-eat-dog world, leaders fight their way to the front of the pack and leave the rest with. . . well, a less-than-appealing view of the world.

My colleague Bob was a perfect example of the kind of person who would have that Grizzard quote displayed prominently on his desk. He was then - and I'm sure still is today - the prototypical type-A personality. He works hard and plays hard, owns a sports car, a Harley motorcycle and a cigarette boat. He was usually the first person in the office in the morning - and often the last one to leave at night.

Anyone who knew Bob would describe him as buttoned down, wound tight, and driven to succeed. And all of those clichés would truly apply. Being a follower would be the farthest thing from his mind. Even if the scenery was better at the back of the pack.

Actually, there are times when the traits I ascribed to my colleague could apply to me - and I'm guessing, to many of you - as well.

Following, after all, can be difficult to do. It's like being trapped behind a line of slow drivers on a two-lane road. We want to get out front and decide for ourselves how fast we should go and when and where to turn.

There was a point in my life when I enjoyed playing "follow the leader," particularly in the summertime when my friends and I would play the game at the lakeside where we'd line up at the diving board and do front dives and backward dives and cannonballs and such. One after the other after the other.

I have fond memories of those games of "follow the leader," but in my adult life, I'd much rather be the one who sets the direction than trust someone else's hand on the tiller.

So when I read, in our Gospel Lesson for this morning, that Jesus told his disciples that he expects them to be followers and let him lead, I admit it gives me concern. At first blush, I'm not sure I'm cut out to be a follower.

Yet the lesson could not be clearer: "He called the crowd with his disciples," Mark writes, "and said to them, 'If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me. For those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake, and for the sake of the gospel, will save it.'"

When we encounter them in this passage, Jesus' disciples were filled with hope and expectation. They've just had an exciting couple of days. Jesus had just fed a huge crowd with only a few loaves of bread and some fish. He then put the powerful Pharisees in their place when they tried to confront and stop him. And finally, he restored sight to a blind man.

They were expecting even greater things to come.

As they walked along, though, Jesus posed a simple question. "Who do the people say I am?" he asked them.

"Some say 'John the Baptizer,'" they said. "Others say 'Elijah.' Still others say 'one of the prophets.'"

"And you - you who know me best, what are you saying about me?" he asked. 'Who do you say that I am?"

"You are the Christ, the Messiah," Peter answered.

Now, you would think that such a positive affirmation would make Jesus happy. But his stern response let's the air out of Peter's balloon.

First, Jesus tells them to tell no one. And then he goes on to tell them that the he must undergo great suffering, be rejected by the elders, the chief priests, and the scribes, and be killed, and after three days rise again.

Peter clearly doesn't want to hear what Jesus is saying. He doesn't want to hear about suffering and dying. So he protests, to the point where Jesus tells him, "Get lost, Satan! You have no idea how God works. Anyone who intends to come with me has to let me lead," Jesus says. "You're not in the driver's seat; I am."

I don't mind telling you, my friends, that I struggle with this passage of scripture.

I know that I'm supposed to be happy to follow Jesus. I've heard all the Sunday School lessons and sung all the "I am delighted to follow Jesus" songs. Yet still, I struggle. Because saying we follow Jesus and singing songs that affirm that we follow Jesus is not the same thing as actually following him.

And following, for me, remains a difficult task to accomplish. Even when the leader is Jesus. Because being a follower implies all sorts of things that seem to contradict so many of the truths that, over the years, I have learned and internalized.

Aphorisms such as "There's nothing you can't accomplish if you put your mind to it," and "Life is what you make it" are simply part of who I am. And the notion that I need to set all of that aside is hard to swallow - really hard to swallow.

So what are those of us who prefer leading to following - who would rather be out front than trailing behind - what are we to do?

The answer, I believe, can be found, oddly enough, in the two questions which Jesus raises in our Lesson: "What good would it do to get everything you want and lose the real you?" Jesus asks. And then he follows that pointed question with yet another: "What could you ever trade your soul for?"

William Barclay puts it well. "The real question of this saying of Jesus," he writes, "is 'where do you put your values in life?'"

In other words, following Jesus means getting your priorities straight. It means setting your goals to align with God's goals. It means recognizing that the "real you" is the eternal soul that God created and that longs to be in relationship to God.

Being a follower of Jesus does not mean that we must cease to be leaders of people.

Indeed, there is much for us to do, both as leaders of people and as followers of Jesus.

Mark, the author of our Gospel Lesson, believed that the rule of God had already begun, and he saw Jesus' power over sickness and nature as evidence of that reality. He also knew that the powers of the old age were not yet fully defeated, and warned that there will be constant struggle between those who hold onto the old and those who participate in the new age.

The good news, Mark tells us, is that Jesus sent out the disciples to preach, heal, and exorcise demons, and they did so successfully. Because the marvelous new reality of God's rule has already begun, and we who align our priorities with Jesus' priorities can, and do share in this new reality.

The good news, though, does not imply that the way of Jesus is an easy way. On the contrary, our Text makes it clear. It is not possible to align our priorities with the priorities of Jesus unless we take seriously the implications of the Cross.

"If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me," Jesus says. Or, as Eugene Peterson paraphrases these words of Jesus in The Message, "Don't run from suffering; embrace it. Follow me and I'll show you how."

It is true that life with Christ is filled with unspeakable blessing and the deepest kinds of happiness and peace. But this is no joy ride. It is, rather, the way of the Cross.

For Mark, nothing is closer to the heart of the Gospel than the Cross. Jesus' true identity is revealed publicly only after Jesus loses his own life on the Cross and the Roman Centurion shouts, "Truly this man was God's Son!"

And Mark suggests that like Christ, our true identities will be disclosed only after we too carry the cross.

The harsh reality is that if we don't suffer, from time to time, because of our commitment to the way of Jesus, we are probably not truly living out that commitment.

Peter objected to this harsh reality. And Jesus soundly chastised him for his objection. Because, in the end, there is no other way.

In the dogsled race we call the Christian life, the only view is the view of the Cross.

And speaking of dogsled racing, I did a little research, this week, on that interesting subject. The notion that there's one lead dog and all the others are followers is just not correct. One expert puts it this way:

"Lead dogs alone don't get a sled anywhere. Directly behind lead dogs are point dogs and swing dogs - which often get a chance to lead during a race. The team dogs follow next - and far from being a bunch of poochie losers, they actually provide the bulk of the team's pulling power. Finally, the wheel dogs run directly in front of the sled and guide it around turns."

"There are actually plenty of leaders, she concludes, "and all the dogs have plenty to see."

So, as it turns out, Lewis Grizzard is incorrect. All of the dogs in a race have leadership roles to play, and all are followers as well. Sounds a lot like the Church, doesn't it?

                                                                             AMEN

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