The Redemption of Greatness
Preached by Benjamin Vrbicek
November 10, 2013
Often when I begin a sermon, I say something like, My name is Benjamin and I’m one of the pastors here. This morning, that statement is only half-true. This morning, I am a guest. And I want to thank you for hosting my wife and me so graciously this week. We have been treated very well. Thank you.
This morning we are going to be continuing your study in the Gospel of Mark, picking up where Jason left off last week. So if you have a Bible, please turn to Mark chapter 9.
As you are turning there, I’ll say this: the Bible recounts to us story after story of women and men that sought their own greatness. And still today, we live in a world filled with people that seek their own greatness. Huge amounts exertion and passion and skill are employed in the quest of greatness.
I live in Arizona and every year in the late spring and early summer, there are forest fires that consume everything in their path. Often, our desire for greatness is like that—an all-consuming fire.
And the question that comes up in this passage of scripture is this: what is God to do with us? What’s he to do with people that want to be great? Shall he call the fire department to put us out? Tell us to stop, because fires are dangerous?
Well, the desire for greatness is dangerous, but what strikes me as odd and unexpected, is that it seems that Jesus doesn’t want to put the fire out, but rather to douse it with gasoline.
O, he may have to—in fact, will likely have to—redirect the fire and passion and exertion in other directions, and Jesus will have to show us a better way, and he will have to redeem our corrupted definition of greatness, but this much is true: God wants you to be great.
That’s a provocative statement and one libel to misunderstanding, so it will take the rest of our time to explain what I mean by that and what I don’t mean, but I do think this is where the passage leads.
But I’m getting ahead of myself. Let’s read the passage and then pray.
Mark 9:33-37
33 And they came to Capernaum. And when he was in the house he asked them, “What were you discussing on the way?” 34 But they kept silent, for on the way they had argued with one another about who was the greatest. 35 And he sat down and called the twelve. And he said to them, “If anyone would be first, he must be last of all and servant of all.” 36 And he took a child and put him in the midst of them, and taking him in his arms, he said to them, 37 “Whoever receives one such child in my name receives me, and whoever receives me, receives not me but him who sent me.”
Introduction
Listening to the last six months or so of sermons from Community, I have noticed that good, sturdy outlines are appreciated. So, in the heritage of all biblical, God-honoring sermons, I shall make three points, all about greatness. First: The Corruptions of Greatness, Second: The Invitation to Greatness, and finally, Third: The Redemption of Greatness.
Several summers ago, there was a church that decided to give their fine, upstanding Associate Pastor a sabbatical for the summer. And so they hired a young, eager intern. That church just happened to be Grace Evangelical Free in Jefferson City, Missouri, and that fine, upstanding Associate Pastor just happened to be your very own Jason Abbott and that young intern, just happened to be me.
My first week there the youth and I had pizza for dinner. And after we were done eating, since my hands were greasy from the pizza, I made my way to the restroom to wash them. As I entered I noticed that there was a problem with the plumbing. Water was on the floor. Lots of it.
I thought to myself, “Hummmm. I wonder whose job it is to clean that.”
For the time being, I was unable to resolve this difficult question, so I thought, I know; I’ll put a sign on the door that says, “DO NOT USE. OUT OF ORDER.”
At the time, I was writing a lot of papers in graduate school, so I was pretty good at writing. So I made my sign, put it on the door, felt good about myself, and we went on with the youth meeting.
As the night went on, I realized, perhaps, just perhaps, I should make it my job to clean up the mess. So when the kids had left I figured out where the mop was and got started.
It was a hot and humid Missouri summer night, and I was in a narrow, dimly lit room, now pungent with bleach and other smells. Wringing out the mop, I caught a picture of myself in the mirror, and this thought entered my head—I’m not proud of it, but it was there nonetheless—namely, “Is this what I went to graduate school for? Is this what I went to grad school for?”
And the question betrayed, or exposed, my corrupted misconceptions about what it means to be great.
In our passage this morning, the disciples had an argument among themselves. To be sure, their argument was not about why or why not one should attend graduate school. But, like my question, their argument exposes their corrupted view of greatness, and the need for redemption.
1. The Corruption of Greatness
When we look at just the immediate context of our passage, that is, when we look at just the events in Mark 9, we realize that it’s likely that the disciples are engaged in quite possibly the dumbest conversation in the entire world. And it’s a conversation—actually the text calls it an argument—that repeated itself on several occasions.
Look at what has just happened in so far just in Mark 9. Jesus has just revealed his glory—he is not weak and feeble, he is strong and glorious; Jesus has received the stamp of approval from God the Father and is highlighted as far more important than Moses and Elijah; Jesus promised to rise from the dead; Jesus victoriously battled a demon, a demon that defeated the disciples; and some think that Jesus quoted the book of Daniel, at least in a loose allusion, and then applied it to himself. This is big stuff.
And it’s just the immediate context; forget the calming of the storm on the sea of Galilee, the feeding of the five thousand, and lots of other stuff, which has all come before. And it’s into this context that a disciple, who witnessed all of this and more, says, I’m pretty good at stuff. And then another one says, Oh yeah, I’m pretty good at stuff too. And another says—probably Peter—Oh yeah, I’m better at stuff than you. In fact, I’m the greatest at stuff.
In fact, the Catholic Church is going to call me the first Pope;
I have the book of Habakkuk memorized;
I’m the pastor of a bigger church than you;
and I can speak in tongues;
and I can drive out demons;
and I have a Lamborghini that I drive on the Autobahn;
and I have a hot wife with great legs and looks good in a miniskirt;
and I can bench press 350 lbs.;
and I have a Swiss bank account;
and I am the CFO;
and I have my own reality TV show;
and I am an alum from an ivy league college where I was president of my fraternity and homecoming king and
quarterback of the football team, and I was drafted to the NFL first in the first round;
and I’ve climbed Mt. Everest;
and I have more square footage than you;
and I won a Pulitzer Prize;
and I was friends with Steve Job and I had the latest iPhone before it came out;
and I’m really good at Call of Duty on xBox;
and I have a car with tinted windows a bigger spoiler and subwoofers than you;
and I can swing a hammer;
and I have kids on the honor roll;
and I tithe a bunch;
and my mom asked Jesus if I could sit at his right hand when he comes in glory;
and I… ; and I ….; and I ….; and I ….; and I ….
Again, vv. 33-34 read,
“And they came to Capernaum. And when he was in the house he asked them, ‘What were you discussing on the way?’ But they kept silent, for on the way they had argued with one another about who was the greatest.”
The disciples won’t answer Jesus because they are embarrassed. The Greek implies that Jesus wouldn’t let it go; he keeps asking them. “So guys, what were you talking about back there?”
“Ahhhhh… nothing, nothing.”
“No really, what were you arguing about? I saw Peter pounding on his chest like a gorilla.”
The text says that they “kept silent.” But as it goes on, it’s clear Jesus didn’t need them to tell him what they were talking about. He knew what they were arguing about. And it was insulting. It was shallow and petty and myopic. They exposed their corrupt view of greatness. And it was this beast, this all-consuming fire to have more greatness than someone else and to have that greatness known, and it blinded their eyes from understanding the cross and the true mission of the Messiah and what is true greatness. Consuming nearly every opportunity before us, our desire for greatness burns. And often, like the disciples, it is sinful and petty and insulting and full of pride.
So the question becomes, what is Jesus to do? What is he to do with people that care deeply about their own greatness—disciples that have the dumbest of arguments?
2. Invitation to true Greatness
This brings us to our next point, namely the invitation to true greatness.
You might expect Jesus to issue a harsh rebuke. I mean, he is a prophet and prophets do that sort of thing from time to time. But while we expect a harsh rebuke, instead what they get—and what we get—is extreme patience; he teaches; he instructs; he redefines; he redirects; he, in all this, he makes an invitation to greatness, true greatness. You and I, we would be done with these men. But Jesus loves them.
Read with me v. 35 to see what Jesus does.
And he sat down and called the twelve. And he said to them, “If anyone would be first, he must be last of all and servant of all.”
I want to point out two things about what I believe is an invitation to greatness. The first thing to point out is that he actually makes the invitation, he wants to encourage greatness. And the second thing to point out is what definition of greatness that we are invited to, because what Jesus means by greatness and what the disciples meant are two different things.
First, that Jesus makes the invitation.
The text says that the disciples were arguing about who was the greatest. I take that phrase to be in parallel with, or a synonym with the phrase Jesus uses, namely, first of all.” Which is to say, the disciples and Jesus are taking about the same desire. Sort of.
Now, Jesus will have to point the desire in the right direction, and we’ll come to that in a moment, but for now just sit with the idea that Jesus invites these disciples to greatness. And I would say, he invites you as well to be great—not in the corrupted sense, of course.
Let me reference a few other passages lead me to believe God made us to be enticed by greatness. Consider…
In Acts 20:35, the Apostle Paul said to church leaders, Now remember what Jesus taught us: “It is more blessed to give than receive.” Why would Jesus have said it like that—it is more blessed—if we were not supposed to want to be more blessed, to be blessed greater?
Or consider the very familiar phrase from Matthew 25 when Jesus says, “Well done, good and faithful servant” (Matthew 25:21-23). Why would he hold this possibility out for us to hear someday, if he didn’t want something to stir inside us to say, Yes, yes, I do want to be great and I do want to be faithful and a I do want to be a servant and I do want to hear from my master “well done.” This is held out to us, to entice us.
Or consider Luke 14 when Jesus says to people at a banquet, “For everyone who exalts himself will be humbled, and he who humbles himself will be exalted” (10-11). Why would he talk about being exalted, if he wasn’t okay with our desire to be exalted?
Or Matthew 5:11-12, “Blessed are you when others revile you and persecute you and utter all kinds of evil against you falsely on my account. Rejoice and be glad, for your reward is great in heaven...” Why talk about a “great reward,” if we were supposed to go, “Yikes, a great reward, I’m not supposed to want that?”
On top of all these verses, and there are others too, note that Jesus never, nor any other biblical author in all the scriptures, ever rebukes someone for wanting to be great (by itself).
I think, knowing that your fire burns for greatness, rather than rebuking that it, Jesus points in the right direction, to the definition of true greatness. Verse 35 reads,
And he sat down and called the twelve. And he said to them, “If anyone would be first, he must be last of all and servant of all.”
True greatness is becoming last and the servant of all, not just servant of the great—like, Oh, yeah, I’m the servant of a movie star or football player or a president—Jesus says, “servant of all.”
And in case the concept wasn’t clear enough, Jesus goes on to illustrate his point. Read with me vv. 36-37,
And he took a child and put him in the midst of them, and taking him in his arms, he said to them, “Whoever receives one such child in my name receives me, and whoever receives me, receives not me but him who sent me.”
This object lesson is in your face. Jesus, Mr. Busy-Important Rabbi, called over a 1st grader, gave him a huge hug. Asked him if he had any questions. Told him that God loved him. Asked he if he could pray for him. Then he did, and he blessed him. (I’m filling some things in based on another passage.) And then he looked slowly at the twelve men standing around. It was an incredibly tense moment. You could not have heard a sound. Every disciple was fidgeting with something. No one wanted to make eye contact with Jesus or with the child.
Jesus implies greatness is receiving children. Why? Why does he imply this?
I think Jesus chooses children because they are a specific example of the larger principle, namely that receiving, welcoming, loving, caring for, and meeting the needs of children is an example of true greatness because true greatness is serving and loving and caring for and meeting the needs of people who cannot repay you back. To care for children, is just one example of caring for those that can’t repay you.
This principle—greatness is loving those that cannot repay you, greatness is becoming last when others clamor for first—comes up over and over again in the scriptures. Consider just a few examples…
First, when Jesus washed the disciples’ feet. The fifth value of your church (Foot Washing) is named after this. And while I’m not saying an occasional and actual Christian-foot-washing ceremony is wrong, what seems to be going on in this passage is that Jesus is saying whatever job is most humiliating and most undesirable, that is the very job that Jesus-followers should embrace. The more dirty and undesirable the job—like mopping a restroom floor—this is the job that those who have been washed and cleansed by Jesus should delight to do for others.
Or, Jesus says, when you throw a dinner party, invite the “invite the poor, the crippled, the lame, the blind, and you will be blessed, because they cannot repay you.” (Luke 14:12-14).
The point Jesus is making—and we could have multiplied passage after passage to show this—is that the kingdom values of love and sacrifice and selflessness are true greatness.
How backwards and corrupted do we have it in our world? How corrupted do we have it in our own heart?
If your best friends and neighbors were to describe you, how long would it be until someone got to the word “servant.” If I went to the houses and families around his church, and I said, Describe Community, how long until they used the word “servant”?
If we really understood this, how many marriages would go the distance? How many hurting and broken single moms in this neighborhood could be made whole by the gospel of Christ? If we really grasped this view of greatness, how would Harrisburg begin to see the love of Christ?
But you know, while we need simple reminders of the definition of true greatness and we need invitations over and over again, a mere invitation isn’t enough. The disciple needed more. And so do I. I need my corrupted view of greatness to be redeemed.
3. The Redemption of Greatness
This may come as a shock to you, but the disciples simply don’t get it. They need more than to hear an invitation; they need redemption.
Back in chapter 8, Jesus asked them, Who do people say that I am? Then, he says, Okay, but who do you say that I am? Peter says, The Christ, the Messiah of God. Jesus then says, Okay, then I’m going to the cross to suffer and die for people that can’t repay me. And Peter—he’s so smart—pulls Jesus aside and says, Ahh, let me tell you how to be a great Messiah, Jesus. Don’t go to the cross. And Jesus says, No. With respect to greatness you don’t have in mind the things of God, but of men.
Then at the start of Mark 9, Jesus reveals a glimpse of his greatness. And says, don’t tell anyone about this until after I rise from the dead. Why say that, Jesus? Until the cross and sacrifice and death for the unworthy, the disciples can’t possibly know what true greatness is.
Then just after our passage, and Jason will be in these verses next week, the disciples say, Hey, Jesus, there are these people driving out demons and they are not one of us? And that makes them look greater than us. What do you think, Jesus? And Jesus asks, What’s better, guys, demon or no demon?
One of the signs that our view of greatness is messed up is, like the disciples here, they are unable to celebrate the kingdom of God expanding if it doesn’t go through them and their ministry. Are you able to smile in thanksgiving to God when you another church, another ministry, another denomination flourish?
And then—this is classic—there are crowds of families brining their children to Jesus to be blessed and the disciples rebuke “them.” Jesus has just invited them to view greatness as greatness receiving children, and just a page later children are ripe for receiving and they say, Scram. Beat it. Get out of here, little kid. Jesus doesn’t have time for you.
And then, as though they couldn’t get any worse and Jesus could be any more patient, two disciples ask Jesus—in Matthew gospel, he actually records that their mom even asks for them (Matthew 20:20)—Hey, Jesus. When you come into your kingdom and everyone regards you as the greatest, can we sit right next to you so that everyone will know that we are great to?
Behold the patience of God. Indeed he is slow to anger.
The disciple simply don’t get it. They can’t get it. Their definition is too corrupt. So more than invitation is needed. Redemption of greatness is needed. The disciples needed it. And so do I.
Conclusion
Recently I had one of those weeks that happens to all of us from time to time. As a pastor, it looked like an unusually busy week, saddled with an additional hospital visit and two memorial services. And there were many details for the services that were not insignificant: making and printing the programs accurately; securing tech support for the sound and lights; finding singers and accompaniment for the hymns; editing obituaries; sifting through PowerPoint slideshows; recruiting speakers; making sure the kitchen team was in place. And as for the hospital visit, it was an hour away—one way—and it was for someone I didn’t know all that well.
I don’t know that I would’ve had the presence and the clarity to see it and articulated this way at the time, but I think what was happening was that the needs and ministry and work that was before me, I began to view it not as the pathway to greatness, but rather as a distraction from it.
I would suspect that many of us here in this room can feel some of that. If you were to think of the tasks, the jobs, the needs, the ministry directly before, you how many of you look at them not as the pathway to greatness but as a distraction from your pursuit of greatness. And what we need is an invitation yes, but like the disciples, we need more than that. We need redemption. And thanks be to God that we have it in the sacrificial death, and the glorious resurrection of Christ for sinners like you and I.
