A sermon for the Fourteenth Sunday after Pentecost: Proper 17
August 30, 2026, at St. Luke’s Episcopal Church
Readings: Jeremiah 15:15-21; Psalm 26:1-8; Romans 12:9-21; Matthew 16:21-28
There have been times I did not know fully what I was getting into. I must have been around 7 years old. I was a cub scout, and I was going on my first, ever, camping trip. Most of the other kids had been with their dads before. Not me. But I was excited. Cub scouts were supposed to be excited about that sort of thing, after all. “There’s nothing to be worried about,” I was told. “It’s nothing but fun,” I was told. We arrived at a camp that had old fashioned tents with cots. Us boys went off into the woods. We picked blackberries galore and took them back to our tents, I suppose for late night snacks. That’s when the bugs came–ants and spiders everywhere. There were coyotes yipping in the distance–I had never heard one of those. Earlier that day, while we waited to leave for camp, the other campers and I had watched the movie “Twister,” the 1996 movie about storm chasers and tornadoes. As I laid on my cot that night, surrounded by bugs and spiders, coyotes yipping in the distance, I heard thunder. And that was the last straw. I ran to the fire where the camp leaders were still up. Through tears, I told my troop leader I wanted to go home. I was done with the bugs and coyotes and thunder. I remember him asking me, “We’re camping outside! What did you expect?”
We could ask St. Peter the same question today. Today we hear Jesus rebuke Peter. But just before this passage (we heard this last week), Peter confesses that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of God. Peter is declared the rock–and that same rock, that same confession constitutes the Church today. For the Church is wherever Jesus Christ is declared Savior and Lord–these are the keys. But Peter does not get to revel long. Right after Peter seems to get everything right, Jesus tells them that the Messiah must suffer and die. “God forbid it, Lord!” Peter tells Jesus that such an ending must never happen. And Jesus rebukes him: “Get behind me, Satan.” Ouch. Jesus says Peter is thinking on earthly things instead of heavenly ones. Peter’s calculus is an earthly one, not a heavenly one. What’s the cause? Peter doesn’t understand what being the Messiah means. He has one idea of what it means–vanquishing Rome, political power, enemies underfoot. But like me at cub scout camp, his ideas are mistaken.
The Messiah comes and does not conform to Peter’s ideas. The Messiah still does not conform to some of our world’s ideas. We want the strong man, the person who flips a switch and makes everything right. We want power and privilege and a place at the top, and we never want to be called to sacrifice, to discipline, to devotion. The Messiah picks up his cross, and he gives us one to carry right beside him. “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 will find it. For what will it profit them if they gain the whole world but forfeit their life? Or what will they give in return for their life?” That’s what Jesus says to us and to all who want to follow him. I hear those words and I’m tempted to run to my scout leader: I’m ready to go back home. This is not what I expected.
Peter will come to understand. And he will run. Peter will come to understand. And he will deny three times. Peter will come to understand. And he will find over and over again that he cannot save himself, that the cross is too heavy for him to bear by himself, that he needs Jesus Christ and his grace to help him through.
The Christian is called to carry a cross,and our crosses can be heavy. St. Paul talks some about what our cross looks like today. He talks about our calling to live as Christians in the world no matter what. He told us to love. Hold fast to the good. Bless even your enemies. Some will say: These are good ways to be run over in the world today. So be it. St. Paul says to live peaceably with all. I would rather not–isn’t that a good way to be taken advantage of? Yes. Persevere in prayer? Even for those who hate me? Everyday. Be patient in suffering and bless those who persecute you? And we’re tempted to think, doesn’t might make right? Tell that to the man nailed to a tree.
Our crosses don’t always look like two pieces of wood. Most often they look like the ordinary, daily decisions to live like Christ, even when it costs us, even when it defies our earthly calculus. Our crosses usually aren’t on a hill far away. Most often, they are set up in our living rooms, in our workplaces, in our schools; they are found in difficult conversations across a dinner table; they are found anywhere we make the decision to pray instead of despair, to love instead of turn away, to forgive and show grace instead of holding on to pride.
The Christian is called to carry a cross, an ordinary cross in the everyday world, but we do not carry it alone. Jesus is beside us. And we are meant to be beside each other. Because we need Jesus, and we need each other. I was recently reminded of a prayer. It goes like this: “Lord, today I’ve done alright. I haven’t gossiped, haven’t lost my temper, haven’t been greedy, grumpy, nasty, selfish, nor over-indulgent. I have only spoken well of my neighbors. I have loved those people you put in my life near perfectly today. But in a few minutes, Lord, I’m going to have to get out of bed…”
Take up your cross, the Savior tells us today. For some Christians, that has meant a literal cross. In my life, it has been smaller things. It has been forgiveness when it’s not deserved nor been asked for. It has been choosing to love instead of holding on to resentment. It has been trusting in goodness when despair tries to take over. It has been refusing to see myself or any other person as anything less than a child of God, even when I am tempted to hate. And when I am able to do those things, it is only because of God’s help. And it is only because of the community of the Church that holds me up.
“What did you expect?” My camp leader asked me that question, and I’ll ask us today. We come to Jesus and he hands us a cross. He says, follow me. Follow Christ when we would rather not forgive, or not have mercy, or not love. Follow Christ when we would rather go the way of the world and leave the beatitudes behind. Follow Christ when we know we’re headed to a hill. It’s not what we expected. But follow him anyway. For in following him, you will find life, and life everlasting. You will find joy, and joy overflowing. You will find love, and love never-ceasing. You will find nothing less than the salvation of your souls. And on the other side of the cross, there is always Resurrection. And you will see the Son of Man coming in his kingdom.
Storied Grace 