Jesus went on with his disciples to the villages of Caesarea Philippi;
and on the way he asked his disciples, “Who do people say that I am?” [Mark’s Gospel 8.27]

In a world immersed in words, it becomes more and more difficult to discern and offer the words which are hopeful, creative, life-giving. Advertising, podcasts and the misnamed “reality TV”, media of all forms, shout at us incessantly or sit on our shoulders and chatter in our ears like monkeys.

Opinions are everywhere, and quantity seems in inverse proportion to quality. Undaunted by this, offering – and amplifying – a bizarre opinion is the most likely way to garner attention and, following hot on attention’s heels are those who accept, believe and adhere.

Who do people say me to be?

Amidst all the noise, can we attend to what people are saying? One of the interesting tests of many modern church movements is how little they mention the person and work of Jesus Christ, and how much more is spoken about you, and me. The next line is either our abject failure, or the five alliterative steps to self-actualisation.

A number of faith traditions enlist Paul to their particular frame of thinking, neglecting the reality that Paul’s central point of reference is never himself, or us, but “Jesus Christ, and him crucified.”

Who do people say me to be?

The temptation is to believe ourselves sufficiently nourished by miracles, or wisdom, or seeing a person healed. The wonder of a crowd being satisfied by a handful of bread is something we would tell our children and grandchildren, but is it enough when we can’t pay the bills tomorrow, or our home is unsafe tonight?

When Peter names Jesus as Messiah, he imagines a story far away from suffering and struggle. His rebuke of Jesus’ words of rejection and death arises from fear and discomfort, and the consequence for him of following such a one.

Who do you say me to be?

The only way that tangible words of hope can be offered to broken lives is when the one who speak knows what suffering is, the lash of injustice and the hammer blows of rejection. When Jesus names who he is, we are immediately aware of our identities, as those who follow him.

We are named as those who know that suffering and injustice are real, but they are not the final words spoken. We know that violence happens, but death is not the end of the story.

We name Jesus as Immanuel, God with us. This is not a nickname for a manger-born infant, but the identity of one with us in every stanza of our lives.

Crucified, and risen. This is who we say Jesus to be. Jesus, the purpose and fulfilment of God in creation and history. Life is the complete word spoken, heard in silence and wonder at the first and final moments.

Who do you say me to be?