This was the second time the disciples heard Jesus speak of His death and resurrection. Jesus said: “The Son of Man will be betrayed into the hands of men. They will kill him, and after three days he will rise.” Jesus didn’t mince words. He didn’t speak in mysteries, riddles, or parables. Jesus was about to die and rise.
Yet, the disciples didn’t get it; they didn’t grasp it. Even more, they were afraid to ask Jesus about it. The first time Jesus mentioned His death and resurrection, Peter strenuously objected. And Jesus quickly put Peter in his place when He said, “Get behind me, Satan!” I suppose once is enough for a dressing-down like that.
So, Jesus’ disciples quietly talked among themselves as they walked through Galilee on their way to their home base at Capernaum. They had many hours to talk, since they traveled on foot in those days. They had hours and days to think and discuss what Jesus had taught them. They had time to ponder and “inwardly digest.”
And when they finally got to Capernaum, Jesus asked them, “What were you discussing on the way?” And again, silence. No one wanted to say out loud what everyone was thinking. While Jesus was speaking of His own suffering, death, and resurrection, His disciples were quietly debating about which one of them was the greatest.
Does that surprise you? Jesus is teaching the cross, but His disciples focus on their own glory. Jesus is teaching them that the way of the Messiah is to be handed over like a criminal into the hands of people who should, instead, be praising Him. Yes, Jesus as the Messiah would have to suffer much. He would be killed at the hands of His own people, and, on the third day, rise from the dead.
And right on the heels of that unvarnished truth, the disciples were quietly bickering over which one of them was the top dog. Perhaps, they were theoretically planning for life after Jesus’ death and who would be in charge after He was gone. Who would be the best boss? Who was the greatest among them?
The disciples’ disgraceful behavior is nothing new. It’s been in the Church since the beginning. If you look at a cross section of Christ’s Church at any moment, you will always find power struggles taking place right under the cross of Christ. And you don’t even have to look at some denominational headquarters; you need to look no further than the local congregation.
How ironic: The Church proclaims Jesus Christ and Him crucified, but then wants to be great in the eyes of the world. We proclaim the cross, but don’t want to be nailed down. We’d prefer boasting of our successes instead of confessing our sins. We want to deal with life on our terms instead of life through death on a cross. Luther called this the “theology of glory.”
That’s what Jesus’ disciples were doing–they were reveling in the theology of glory. Each thought he should be the first, the greatest, and the best. No one wanted to settle for bronze; they all wanted gold. After all, they were the chosen few, the Twelve, the inner circle. Jesus had handpicked them.
And when all the crowds were gone, when they returned home to Capernaum, they were the ones who hung around with Jesus, the celebrity. They were like roadies on a band tour. It was Jesus on tour, and they had the crew passes. They had access and were part of the inner circle. Didn’t that entitle them to some greatness?
And what’s wrong with wanting to be great? After all, our culture teaches us to think that greatness is something to yearn for, and that higher is better. First place goes to the winners; last place to the losers. Stocks that advance are winners; stocks that decline are losers. Everyone wants to be a winner; no one wants to be a loser.
And so, it shouldn’t surprise us that Jesus’ disciples debated about which of them was greatest even while Jesus was trying to teach them about His death and resurrection. As a pastor, I see it all the time: who’s going to get what even before dad has died.
Death and resurrection aren’t favorite items on the menu. We’d prefer something safer and sweeter. But in God’s diner, they’re the only selection, for death and resurrection are the moving gears of God’s grace.
That’s how God saves the world. That’s how He saves me and you. He saves us by suffering, dying, and rising. And you also get to suffer, die, and rise with Him, because discipleship isn’t a spectator sport. It’s not something you can view safely from the bleachers. Following Jesus means following Him through suffering and rejection to death and resurrection.
In Christ’s kingdom, God measures greatness by the wood of the cross. Jesus turns our own ideas of greatness upside down. He asks, “Do you want to be great? Then go to the back of the line. If you want to be first, become last. If you want to be master in my kingdom, then become a servant of all.” That’s the way of Jesus.
That’s how it is in Christ’s Kingdom. He left His privileged position at the right hand of the Father to take the form of a servant. He left the boardroom of the Trinity to join us in our humanity. The One who was first became last, least, and lowly to serve us all with salvation. He is the Child of the Virgin, born in cave, laid in a manger. He is the Servant sent to suffer for the sin of the world. He is the king crowned with thorns, enthroned on a cross.
Do you want to be renowned in Christ’s kingdom? Then become the least of all and servant of all. In Christ’s kingdom, the greater you are, the less you will be, the more of a servant you will become.
But all this talk of being least and serving others can get a bit abstract and theoretical. So Jesus, ever the expert teacher, uses an object lesson. He takes a little child who just happens to be nearby and puts him right among them. And then Jesus takes the child into His arms and says, “You want to be great, do you? Then bend down to receive this little child. Because whoever receives one of these children in my name, receives me. And whoever receives me, receives the One who sent me.”
That’s greatness in the way of the cross. That’s the Jesus way. Greatness in the way of the cross is the greatness of humility.
What’s notable about a little child is that he’s little. To receive a child, you have to get off your pedestal of power, possession, and prestige. You have to get down on your hands and knees to meet the child at his eye level.
That’s what Jesus did for you–He reached down to us. For we are like little children. We couldn’t reach up to heaven no matter how hard we would try. And the smaller the child is, the more we must bend our knees, backs, and egos to meet him.
If you want a picture of greatness Jesus’ style, look at a parent changing a diaper at three in the morning. Watch parents with their children in church struggling to teach them how to pray and worship. Go to Sunday School and watch an adult bend down to help a little one learn the Scriptures. That’s the greatness of the cross.
The greatness of the cross is the greatness of self-sacrifice. It’s serving instead of being served. Jesus loved to use little children as examples–not because they were cute–but because they were giveable to, helpless, and the least among the great.
In Jesus’ day, most considered children to be the least worthy. Most couldn’t wait for them to grow up and become productive members of the family. For little children were a drain on resources. They were considered the least, the bottom rung.
That’s because children need us to give to them. For how else would they be fed, clothed, nurtured, taught, and sheltered. To receive a little child and serve him is to bend down and give to another. It’s to know the self-sacrificing love of the cross that saved you and made you God’s own child.
It’s a bit like that in life. If we live a long life, in our old age, we go back to our beginning. As we approach death, we again become like little children. Our earthly greatness fades away, and we become the least. No matter how powerful you once were, no matter how much money you made, at the end, you once again become helpless as a little child. Even the first take their turn at the back of the line. And in our death, we become least of all, which is just where Jesus wants us. For when we are least, then He is greatest.
So, don’t look for the greatness of Jesus in the high and the mighty, or the winners, movers, and shakers. Look to the least, the lowly, and the last. Look to the helpless Child of Bethlehem, the broken Man of the cross.
Don’t reach up for greatness; instead, reach down, way down. Reach down to those who are considered the least, and bend down to meet them. Look into their eyes through the lens of the cross of Christ. Then, you will know greatness Jesus-style.
Oh, and don’t bother arguing over who is greatest. That is a stupid question. For you already know the answer–it’s Jesus. Amen.
