“No Competition”
Twenty-Second Sunday after Pentecost
October 20, 2024
Isaiah 53:4-12
Mark 10:35-45
Children’s Message:
Today, I’m going to crown one of you ruler for the day. Would you like that—to be a king or queen for the day? So, let’s dream about what that would be like. What would it be like to be a king or queen?
· Lots of money
· Lots of power
· Make rules
· Be celebrated & honored
· Famous
So, what would you do if you were a ruler? What kinds of laws would you make, do you think? What kinds of benefits would you enjoy? And who would serve you?
Now, who would YOU serve? What would that look like? When James and John came to Jesus wanting to be his top people in the kingdom, Jesus told them that in his kingdom, the top people are always at the bottom. The most powerful will be the ones who serve and give of themselves.
Does that sound backwards from what we expect? Yeah. Because that’s what Jesus is about—turning our ways upside down so that we know that even the most powerful are no better than anyone else.
Let’s pray. Dear God, thank you for being a servant for your people. Help us grow into servants, too. Amen.
Message:
This is the third time—the third time that Jesus has talked about what will happen to him in Jerusalem; the third time the disciples have been confused and even appalled by his teaching; the third time they have mistakenly approached Jesus with their own ideas of power and success; and the third time that Jesus has countered with a paradox—a saying that turns the world’s values upside down.
The first time Jesus tells them about his death, Peter rebukes him. “No, Lord, you’ve got it wrong. We will win! The Messiah is supposed to be victorious!” And Jesus calls him an accuser and tells him to get behind him—to follow him, not presume to lead. Because those who seek to save their lives will lose them; but those who lose their lives for the sake of the gospel will save them.
The second time Jesus tries, the disciples respond by quietly arguing about who is greater. And Jesus turns them back around by saying that the first will be last and the last will be first. And finally, today, in response to telling about his death and resurrection, James and John want places of honor beside him in his glory. They still don’t get it. Jesus’ glory isn’t in the resurrection. It isn’t in some victorious battle. It’s on the cross.
Mark will tell us only a few short chapters later that Jesus is crucified with two criminals, one on his right and one on his left. Criminals, flanking Jesus in his glory. Truth be told, Jesus’ world just doesn’t make any sense to us. Glory in a death penalty. And not a matter of revenge but a matter of love. Of grace. Of self-giving service to something more powerful than Rome.
A ransom offered—not to buy us back from God or from Satan but to buy us back from our own twisted sense of victory and success. A ransom meant to turn our views of the world upside down—to help us see how the first are last and the last are first; how trying to save our own lives is counter-productive; how being great means lowering ourselves in order to serve others.
I love hearing about people in various sports who defy expectations as they help an opponent do their best. The runner who saw his competitor misjudge the finish line, and instead of passing him by to claim first place, he urged him on, allowing his opponent to win as he should have.
A sophomore cross country runner from Omaha who collapsed on the course with only 75 meters to go. A senior from Bellevue, “running his last high school cross country race, gave up 3 spots in the final results to stop,” help him up, and get him to the finish line.
A senior football player who helped a player from the other team stretch out a muscle cramp and stayed with him throughout the rest of the game because he knew how painful the experience could be.
These aren’t astronomical events. They aren’t life-changing, necessarily. But they are moments of service—moments in which the goal before someone shifts. It is no longer about a win. It is no longer about glory. It is about helping, serving, compassion. When a whole team on the court or on the ice makes way for a player with a disability to make a basket or shoot a goal.
These little glimpses into the Kin-dom of Heaven are great reminders that the world isn’t all doom and gloom and people aren’t always out for themselves. That we have the capacity for such great good. That we can and do shift our goals in order to serve others, often without even thinking about it. It’s a measure of our freedom that we are not bound to look at the world through a lens of winners and losers but through the lens of the cross. The lens of abundant life for all.
I’m reminded of the Indigo Girls song, The Power of Two. In it, they sing,
“The steel bars between me and a promise
Suddenly bend with ease
The closer I'm bound in love to you
The closer I am to free”
The closer I’m bound in love to you, the closer I am to free. I can think of no better way to express what Jesus is saying to the disciples here and in the previous passages. He’s trying to get them to see that being free means being bound to another; that being great means bending down; that being first means coming in last for the sake of someone else. This is so counter to the way our world works that when we see examples of this, we are astounded. Those sports stories go viral within days and last for decades—because we need to hear the stories, because we are surprised by them, because they are the exception and not the rule.
We long for these stories. We long to hear about people shifting their goals in order to lift others up. We long to be those famed individuals who, without a thought, turn around. Make room. Stand beside. Walk alongside. Wait for.
And sometimes, we long for someone else to stop their own frantic running and look at us, broken along the road, needing a hand, praying for a look or a shoulder to lean on or an ear to listen. Friends, this is why we are a community. Being a Christian is never about getting ourselves into a place of glory. It, instead, is about glorifying another. Lifting up another. There are no winners until all cross the finish line. And this isn’t some ‘everyone gets a participation ribbon’ kind of theology. Because Christianity isn’t a competition. It isn’t a race.
Life isn’t a competition. Faith isn’t a competition. We have already won, thanks to the God who went down in order to lift us up.
Pastor Tobi White
Our Saviour’s Lutheran Church
Lincoln, NE