CHAPTER 24
Matthew 16:21–17:13
LISTEN to the Story
21From that time on Jesus began to explain to his disciples that he must go to Jerusalem and suffer many things at the hands of the elders, the chief priests and the teachers of the law, and that he must be killed and on the third day be raised to life.
22Peter took him aside and began to rebuke him. “Never, Lord!” he said. “This shall never happen to you!”
23Jesus turned and said to Peter, “Get behind me, Satan! You are a stumbling block to me; you do not have in mind the concerns of God, but merely human concerns.”
24Then Jesus said to his disciples, “Whoever wants to be my disciple must deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me. 25For whoever wants to save their life will lose it, but whoever loses their life for me will find it. 26What good will it be for someone to gain the whole world, yet forfeit their soul? Or what can anyone give in exchange for their soul? 27For the Son of Man is going to come in his Father’s glory with his angels, and then he will reward each person according to what they have done.
28“Truly I tell you, some who are standing here will not taste death before they see the Son of Man coming in his kingdom.”
17:1After six days Jesus took with him Peter, James and John the brother of James, and led them up a high mountain by themselves. 2There he was transfigured before them. His face shone like the sun, and his clothes became as white as the light. 3Just then there appeared before them Moses and Elijah, talking with Jesus.
4Peter said to Jesus, “Lord, it is good for us to be here. If you wish, I will put up three shelters—one for you, one for Moses and one for Elijah.”
5While he was still speaking, a bright cloud covered them, and a voice from the cloud said, “This is my Son, whom I love; with him I am well pleased. Listen to him!”
6When the disciples heard this, they fell facedown to the ground, terrified. 7But Jesus came and touched them. “Get up,” he said. “Don’t be afraid.” 8When they looked up, they saw no one except Jesus.
9As they were coming down the mountain, Jesus instructed them, “Don’t tell anyone what you have seen, until the Son of Man has been raised from the dead.”
10The disciples asked him, “Why then do the teachers of the law say that Elijah must come first?”
11Jesus replied, “To be sure, Elijah comes and will restore all things. 12But I tell you, Elijah has already come, and they did not recognize him, but have done to him everything they wished. In the same way the Son of Man is going to suffer at their hands.” 13Then the disciples understood that he was talking to them about John the Baptist.
Listening to the Text in the Story: Exodus 24:1–18; 34:29–35; Deuteronomy 18:18–19; 2 Samuel 7:11–16; Job 1:6–12; 2:1–13; Psalms 2:6–7; 49:7–9; 62:11–12; 89:35–51; 104:2–4; Isaiah 42:1–4; 52:13–53:12; 55:8–9; Daniel 7:9–14; Hosea 6:2; Zechariah 3:1–8; 13:7–9; Malachi 4:5–6.
We’ve finally come to the point of the story. The details of how it all works out are yet to be seen, but here we get a sneak preview of what will be. Like a movie trailer that nearly gives away everything, Matthew teases the reader with excerpts from a script that will be played out in dramatic fashion. All the main characters make a brief appearance: the protagonist, the villains, the confused best friend, the unseen forces of good and evil, and minor characters who help move the plot along by asking questions that are on everyone’s mind. Crucial quotes and important taglines help frame the unfolding drama, with all of the expected twists and turns of a roller-coaster ride of exhilarating peaks and precipitous falls: “It is necessary,” “Lord, have mercy,” “Get behind me, Satan,” “This is more like it,” “Don’t be afraid,” “Keep this a secret,” and “Is this the end?” The universal conflict, the ultimate challenge of life—overcoming evil and suffering—is the driving force of this compelling story. The only thing missing is the sound of a narrator’s booming voice opening with the words, “In a world [pause] where injustice reigns and hope is deferred. . . .” Matthew has quite a story to tell, one that should take everyone by surprise.
Of course, we’ve heard this story so often that the shock and awe of what happened has worn off. Matthew’s sneak preview doesn’t hold our attention anymore. Jesus’s warning to his disciples about his upcoming death, Peter’s devilish rebuttal and Jesus’s startling rebuke, his “upping the ante” by expecting his disciples to carry a cross to Jerusalem, and even the mountaintop experience of Jesus talking to Moses and Elijah—all of this is so familiar to us that we aren’t arrested by these strange developments. But when you step back and think about it, this is a rather bizarre sequence of events. Not the part about Jesus predicting that he will suffer at the hands of his enemies once he gets to Jerusalem—we’ve seen that coming for some time. It’s what follows—the head-spinning, “what-was-that?” turn of events—that leaves the first-time reader with emotional whiplash. One minute Peter is holding the keys of the kingdom; the next minute he’s Satan incarnate. One moment Jesus strikes a melancholy tone, with talk of suffering and death, cross and loss. Then, all of the sudden, the scene shifts to glory on the mountain. We see Jesus morph into an angelic figure—shining face and white-as-light robes—talking to Moses and Elijah, with a heavenly voice chiming in to offer another ringing endorsement. By the time it’s all over, we are as disoriented as Peter and as confused as the disciples. It’s enough to make even the casual observer question the whole episode: Why did this happen? Was that really necessary? Indeed, the rapid-fire sequence of these episodes ending with the bizarre transfiguration of Jesus is a mystery.
Scholars have puzzled over this unique episode in Matthew’s Gospel. Years ago some questioned whether anything actually happened to Jesus1—what we have here is a vision experienced by three disciples.2 The entire vision was for the benefit of the disciples, not Jesus (Luke’s version, on the other hand, appears as an encouragement to Jesus; Luke 9:28–36).3 Still other scholars find a symmetrical arrangement in the details of the transfiguration and the crucifixion—twin stories of God’s revelation: a mountain scene, three named onlookers (disciples and women), “Son-of-God” confession, Elijah is mentioned, fear, Jesus’s garments are mentioned, the number six appears (“after six days,” “from the sixth hour”).4 Some think the transfiguration is a proleptic version of when the resurrected Jesus will appear on the mountain with kingdom authority to send his disciples as missionaries (Matt 28:16–20).5 Rather than looking ahead to see how the transfiguration functions as a sneak preview of future events in Matthew’s narrative world, many scholars look back and find stories in the Old Testament that share several features: mountaintop meeting, theophanic cloud, shining face, beloved son, Moses and Elijah, erecting booths, numinous awe. Abraham’s near sacrifice of his son, Moses’s shining face on Mt. Sinai, the feast of Tabernacles, pronouncements in the enthronement scene of Psalm 2, prophecies about the return of Moses and Elijah—these passages bounce around in the echo chamber of the transfiguration of Jesus, inviting all kinds of comparisons.6
Here’s the bottom line: since this is such a peculiar story, we’re all looking for a context to help us make sense of it. Which just goes to show you, perhaps, how much we should identify with the disciples in their confusion. There’s so much going on in this story that we’re still trying to figure it out. It’s a mystery—a marvelous tale that makes us want to lean in, learn more, and wonder.
EXPLAIN the Story
Jesus had taken his disciples to the northern edge of Israel when he asked them, “Who do you say I am?” (Matt 16:15). After Peter gave the right answer, “You are the Messiah, the Son of the living God” (v. 16), Jesus headed south for Jerusalem (v. 21). Jesus expected things to “go south” in a hurry as he anticipated his trip to Jerusalem to claim David’s throne. He knew that his arrival in the holy city would incite the “elders, the chief priests and the teachers of the law” to have him killed (v. 21). That explains why, according to Matthew’s Gospel, from this point forward Jesus will devote his attention to his disciples, trying to prepare them for the catastrophe of his suffering and death (but also his resurrection).7 There are no more scenes of large crowds looking for miracles, and only one “public discourse” remains to give to the masses (and it’s a humdinger, when Jesus excoriates the Pharisees as hypocrites; see 23:1–39). From now on Jesus will spend much time teaching his disciples about the kind of Messiah he came to be.8 Indeed, the way Jesus saw it, “it was necessary” (dei) for him to go to Jerusalem and die (16:21), a divine destiny not only befitting a prophet (23:37)9 but also establishing once and for all the radically different way the kingdom of heaven comes to earth—a way that his disciples would be required to follow too.
But Jesus had already warned his disciples that they might have to die for the cause (10:21–23, 34–39). What alarmed Peter (and probably the rest of the Twelve) was the part about Jesus having to suffer and die in Jerusalem (16:21). Jesus also predicted that he would be raised from the dead—but one wonders if Peter even heard the tail end of Jesus’s dire prediction. In fact, that would have been the part most of us would have seized upon, looking for an explanation. “How exactly are you going to be raised from the dead when you are the one so far who’s been able to raise people from the dead (9:23–26)? Are you counting on us to do it (10:8)? How about it, Peter? Are you up for this?” Of course, Jesus had already hinted at his upcoming, violent death; one day, the bridegroom would be taken by force (9:15). Yet Peter acted as if that were a brand new idea, something he couldn’t wrap his mind around (16:22). That was the troubling part of Jesus’s prophecy—his death, not his resurrection. One wonders if that’s why Jesus led Peter, James, and John up the mountain, so that they could see his postdeath glory before he died. Perhaps that would help them “see” what he was talking about, enabling them to look past the difficult way of “loss by cross” to the glory of his resurrection. Perhaps Jesus knew that the only way to embrace the cross is to look forward to the resurrection: “Truly I tell you, some who are standing here will not taste death before they see the Son of Man coming in his kingdom. After six days. . .” (16:28–17:1). That must have been a very long week, giving the disciples plenty of time to work through the puzzling prophecy that messianic suffering must precede messianic glory.10
Satan Says, “This Shall Never Happen to You”
When the serpent tempted the first couple to disobey God, having misquoted God’s command (Gen 3:1), the creature said to Eve, “You will not certainly die” (v. 4). When the devil tempted Jesus in the desert, he quoted Scripture to convince Jesus to “throw yourself down. For it is written: ‘He will command his angels concerning you, and they will lift you up in their hands, so that you will not strike your foot against a stone’ ” (Matt 4:6). So when Peter tries to convince Jesus that “this shall never happen to you” (16:22), Jesus recognized Satan’s voice because he was using the same old ploy. In essence he was saying, “God won’t let bad things happen to his children.”11 Of course, Satan knew that wasn’t true; the story of Job is an insider’s look into the heavenly drama played out on earth (Job 1:6–12; 2:1–13). Jesus was wise to the accuser’s methods: “It is also written: ‘Do not put the Lord your God to the test’ ” (Matt 4:7). Jesus wasn’t going to Jerusalem to throw himself down before the wheels of history to put God to the test to save him.12 Rather, Jesus knew he was going to die when he came to claim David’s throne because the only way his kingdom would last forever is if death itself were defeated—something that Peter would eventually figure out as well (Acts 2:23–36). But when Peter heard Jesus predict his imminent suffering and death (and resurrection!) in Jerusalem, it must have sounded like this newly “crowned” Messiah was giving up before he even got there. So, the “Rock” tried to get in Jesus’s way to prevent him from pursuing such a doomsday scenario. But Jesus would have none of it; as Satan’s mouthpiece, Peter was proving to be the wrong kind of rock—not a foundational stone of the church but a stumbling stone of offense.13 Therefore, if Peter still wanted to follow Jesus, he’d better get out of the way and get back in line (Matt 16:23).14 How quickly things can change.
Let’s try looking at it from Peter’s perspective. Jesus had just showered him with accolades because he answered the question of Jesus’s identity correctly (vv. 16–19). What was whispered in the corners was now on the table. Jesus is the Messiah, and it’s time for him to reign on earth—at least that’s what Jesus seemed to imply, what with all of his talk about defeating Hades and kingdom keys. Indeed, Peter must have wondered what Jesus meant by handing over to him “the keys of the kingdom of heaven.” Being told that you can “bind on earth what is bound in heaven” probably encouraged Peter (and the rest of the disciples) to think that they would have an important role in setting up the powerful kingdom of God on earth. After all, they were following a Messiah who had already demonstrated miraculous feats of strength, overcoming even sickness and death. When Jesus told them to keep it a secret (v. 20), thoughts of a clandestine mission to Jerusalem would have made a lot of sense. A surprise attack would leave the rulers of Jerusalem in dismay as they watched the Messiah of God take the holy city by storm. So, when Jesus immediately says, “It’s time to go to Jerusalem,” visions of victory must have danced in their heads, especially Peter’s. After all, he’s the one holding the keys to the kingdom.
So when Jesus surprises them with his prophecy (v. 21), Peter can’t accept it because it makes no sense. A more literal translation of Peter’s “rebuke” is telling: “Be merciful to you [hileōs soi], Lord. This shall never happen to you” (v. 22, my translation). Even though our translation reads, “Never, Lord!” what Peter was actually doing is calling upon God (binding on earth what is bound in heaven!) to have mercy on Jesus.15 In other words Peter was saying, “Our merciful God won’t let this happen to you and neither will I!” We’ll find out later that this won’t be the only time Peter defies Jesus’s prophecy, promising what he can’t deliver (26:33–35). To be sure, Peter will play a significant part in Jesus’s kingdom. But he and the rest of the disciples will need to learn what that means. To follow Jesus to Jerusalem, they will have to deny themselves, even to the point of death, because that’s what he’s going to do. They need to have God’s thoughts on the matter; to think any other way about Jesus’s mission is to have “merely human concerns” (16:23). Saving your own skin will eventually fail; everyone dies. Why spend your life for things that don’t last (v. 26)? But if you lose your life for the kingdom, you will get it back in the end (vv. 25, 27).
When Jesus warned his disciples that they would need to bring their own cross to Jerusalem (v. 24), it was an ominous sign. The kingdom of heaven coming to earth would threaten all the rulers of Jerusalem—Jewish and Roman. At this time, Judea was an imperial province of the Romans, governed by the Roman procurator, Pontus Pilate. It was his job to protect Roman interests in this volatile region, keeping the peace at all costs. Long before Jesus brought his disciples to Jerusalem, messiah-wannabes would often come to the holy city, trying to incite the masses to rebel against their Roman overlords—typically during one of the Jewish festivals.16 The larger the crowd, the better the revolution. Of course, the swift, unmerciful sword of Roman “justice” cut any rebellion off at the knees. After a while, Roman procurators like Pilate expected trouble (especially during Passover), having to leave their headquarters at Caesarea and travel to Jerusalem to stop things before they got out of hand. Pilate was notorious for taking a mallet to a fly, slaughtering hundreds of Jewish subjects for any sign of insubordination.17 And so, “Messiah” Jesus knew he would run into trouble once he came to Jerusalem, not only with Jewish leaders but also the Roman procurator. If his disciples were going to follow him all the way to the end, then they would need to be prepared to die on a cross—the most shameful and excruciating (literally) death of all.
This was a dangerous mission. But to face such a daunting task, Jesus gave them a word of encouragement: “Truly I tell you, some who are standing here will not taste death before they see the Son of Man coming in his kingdom” (v. 28). I imagine some of the disciples looking around at each other, wondering which ones wouldn’t make it. Sure, some of them would live to see the day the kingdom comes. But several of his disciples would lose their lives during the conquest—Jesus said so. Yet they had no idea what Jesus meant when he said some of them wouldn’t die until they saw “the Son of Man coming in his kingdom” (v. 28). As a matter of fact, we don’t know what Jesus meant either. Some scholars think he’s referring to the transfiguration that will occur in six days. Others believe Jesus was talking about his crucifixion,18 resurrection, the Great Commission, his second coming, or perhaps even the destruction of the Jewish temple in AD 70.19 When did Jesus “come into his kingdom,” and what is the proof of his reign on earth? That’s a question theologians have been debating for centuries. The problem is sometimes Jesus talked like the kingdom was present. Other times he acted like the kingdom was yet to come. So, which is it? If Jesus was referring in v. 28 to the imminent, in-breaking kingdom of God, then we could point to several “proofs” of his rule: over sin (on a cross), over death (via the resurrection), over the world (gospel preached to the ends of the earth), and even over Israel (temple veil ripped in half, the eventual destruction of the temple). Some of his apostles witnessed all these things. But if Jesus didn’t “come into his kingdom” until the “second coming”—he was referring to a kingdom come—then we have another problem. For Jesus predicted that some of his disciples would live long enough to see the day of his return. But we know that didn’t happen, so does that mean Jesus was wrong?
We can’t solve the matter until we consider all Jesus had to say on the subject. Suffice it to say that when it comes to answering the question, “Has the kingdom of heaven come to earth, yes or no?” it’s not that simple. It’s partly because Jewish expectations about the messianic kingdom were not clear-cut. (The fact that Peter had a hard time accepting the notion that the Messiah was supposed to die in Jerusalem proves the point.) Confusion surrounding the timing of Jesus “coming into his kingdom” has much to do with the vague and puzzling prophecies he offered about the matter (not only here but especially during the so-called “Olivet Discourse”; 24:1–25:46). In other words, determining what Jesus meant by his prediction that some of his disciples wouldn’t die until they witnessed the kingdom is more complicated than landing on a simple either/or answer; that is, whether the transfiguration or the resurrection fulfills the prophecy. Perhaps it’s both because the kingdom of heaven coming to earth takes time—it’s always coming—not fully arriving, but still present.
Therefore, maybe it’s better to ask, “Where does the Son of Man come into his kingdom?” In response to that question Peter, James, and John might say, “We saw it once. On a mountain. The resplendent glory of past, present, and future all rolled up into one moment. Jesus shining like the sun; a bright cloud enveloped all of us. Heaven on earth—something we wouldn’t understand until we saw the Son of Man raised from the dead. At least, that’s what Jesus told us [17:9], and God said we’d better listen to him [v. 5].” Indeed, perhaps none of this makes sense until we all see Jesus raised from the dead. To quote the apostle Paul, “For now we see only a reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face” (1 Cor 13:12).
God Says, “This Is My Son, Whom I Love”
When the messianic age dawned on Israel, there was supposed to be a war.20 It would take heavenly forces—the good guys—to overcome evil on earth. The bad guys wouldn’t go without a fight, and so Jewish expectations about the end of the world were dark and gloomy because God would show up to vanquish Israel’s foes, bringing judgment to the wicked and relief to the righteous. God promised Israel that he would forewarn them by sending Moses and Elijah—two heavenly witnesses—to prepare them for the day of his visitation.21 Then the Messiah would appear and lead the righteous to victory, defeating all enemies of God (human and angelic) and thus establishing on earth the everlasting rule of God’s will. When that happened, there would be peace on earth because justice would reign. The postapocalyptic world would be bright, wonderful, glorious, plentiful, serene, refreshing, and magnificent because God would be present among his people. There would be an everlasting covenant of joyful saints (past and present), reunited to bask in the glow of the Messiah’s eternal victory. It would be heaven on earth, forever.
When Peter, James, and John witnessed the transfigured Messiah conversing with Moses and Elijah, it looked like the glory of God had descended upon the mountaintop. Heaven and earth overlapped; the resplendent glory of the messianic age had dawned on them. It must have been a marvelous site to behold, so much so that Peter did what any first-century Jew would want to do: offer the proper acts of hospitality for these three divine visitors. Good news would often come to God’s people when angelic visitors came calling (think of the time when three divine messengers visited Abraham and Sarah; the patriarch was quick to compel his visitors to stay in hopes of receiving their blessing; see Gen 18:1–15). There was no fear among the group; overhearing this conversation between these ancient heroes of Israel and their Messiah compelled Peter to conclude (to put it in our vernacular): “Now that’s what I’m talking about!” (Matt 17:4). I hear a bit of relief in Peter’s voice. For six days, they must have pondered Jesus’s dire prediction of his execution in Jerusalem. Now, having the “mountaintop experience” of his entire life, Peter was glad to be there, completely uninhibited, reveling in the glory of the moment. Since Jesus is the Messiah, this is the way it’s supposed to be: bright lights and celebrities. Peter couldn’t have staged a better messianic display. They were having a great time—until God spoke up: “This is my Son, whom I love; with him I am well pleased. Listen to him!” (v. 5).
We don’t have to imagine God’s tone of voice when he responded to Peter’s plan to build the tabernacles—especially when he said, “Listen to him!” The three disciples fell to the ground, terrified when they heard it (v. 6). It appears as though they wouldn’t budge from their submissive pose until Jesus came and reassured them everything was all right (v. 7). Of course, this wasn’t the first time God said this about Jesus (3:17)—a mash-up of lines from Psalm 2:7 and Isaiah 42:1.22 But the tagline “listen to him!” was new. I hear a thundering voice of divine displeasure—like a father correcting his child—when God spoke to Peter. Given the infrequency of hearing his voice, one wonders why God decided to speak up at that moment. I can certainly think of other times God should have spoken up to defend his Son. How about during the triumphal entry to Jerusalem? Imagine the scene: Jesus enters the holy city as the Messiah riding on a donkey, and just when the citizens of Jerusalem question the whole affair by asking, “Who is this?” (Matt 21:10), God says, “This is my beloved Son. He pleases me. Listen to him!” Or, consider the moment when the chief priests and elders questioned Jesus’s behavior in the temple. They challenged him by asking, “By what authority are you doing these things? . . . And who gave you this authority?” (21:23). Imagine how perfect the timing would have been if God had said in his heavenly, booming voice, “I did! This is my beloved Son. You better listen to him!” Or, what if God had spoken up during the trial of Jesus? What if the living God had answered the high priest, who tried to get Jesus to swear “under oath by the living God: Tell us if you are the Messiah, the Son of God” (26:63)? “Yes, he is!” I would love that part of the story if it had happened that way. But, it didn’t. In fact, don’t we all wish God had said something when Jesus was crucified? I couldn’t think of a better time. Just as the heavens grow dark and the ground shakes, God booms: “This is my Son! I am well pleased with him!” But heaven was silent. God didn’t say a thing. In fact, compared to what they did to his Son, I think Peter’s suggestion to set up three tabernacles is rather innocuous.
But, then again, Jesus wasn’t out to prove to his enemies that he was legitimate. His enemies would play a part in his messianic mission. But the future of the kingdom would rest in the hands of his disciples. They had to see what God was doing through their Messiah. They needed to understand what was going on; if building the tabernacles was a bad idea, what else were they confused about? So they asked questions as they headed down the mountain and returned to the “real world.” They wanted to know why Elijah appeared on the mountain with Jesus. In the eschatological scheme of things, Elijah was supposed to come before the Messiah to prepare the way of the Lord—at least that’s what the scribes taught (17:10). Yet, in light of what just happened it seemed as though his timing was off: Jesus “the Messiah” had appeared before Elijah came to earth.23 So Jesus had to interpret for his disciples this strange sequence of events.
First of all, the scribes were right: Elijah was supposed to come first to “restore all things,” that is, to prepare Israel for the day of divine visitation (v. 11). However, Israel didn’t recognize him when he came. John the Baptizer was this “Elijah” forerunner. But rather than submit to his prophetic ministry, they rejected him. Instead of doing what he required, they did to him what they wanted. Therefore, John proved to be a prophetic witness to the Messiah. Ironically, by his suffering “Elijah” prepared the way of the Lord. This is because Jesus will suffer the same destiny (v. 12). If the disciples understood that John was Elijah (v. 13), then they would know the kind of Messiah Jesus came to be: one that would suffer and die at the hands of the leaders of Israel, which is something they had a hard time hearing. This is why God had to speak from heaven: “This is my Son, whom I love; with him I am well pleased. Listen to him!” Messianic suffering isn’t evidence of divine displeasure. In fact, it’s just the opposite; the cross would prove the love of God. The disciples had to get that right. Building a shelter on the mountain wouldn’t bring messianic glory to earth. Rather, it would take a cross.
LIVE the Story
Have you noticed what’s missing from this sneak preview of what will happen in the rest of the gospel story? It’s the part where Jesus interprets the significance of his death—that he will die for the sins of the people. To be sure, that will come later; Jesus will set up a memorial meal to help his disciples understand that his death will establish a new covenant “for the forgiveness of sins” (Matt 26:28).24 Jesus will die for the people. Yet here, he makes no mention of his vicarious sacrifice. We might expect it, especially since he’s trying to get Peter and the rest of the disciples to understand his messianic mission. I wonder if that would have been easier to take, if Jesus had given a more elaborate theological explanation of his upcoming death. Instead, he simply said, “It is necessary” (16:21). Not only that, he said it was necessary for his disciples to share the same fate, to die with him. That’s why he warned them that if they were going to continue to follow him to Jerusalem, they’d better bring their own cross. This wasn’t just a matter of dying for them. Jesus expected his disciples to die with him, for that would be the only way they would “save their life”—by losing it (vv. 24–26). Jesus would have no cheerleaders, disciples who would try to encourage him from the sidelines as they watched him die for their sins. “We’re praying for you, Jesus. Lord God, please help Jesus carry his cross. God, give him strength to die for our sins. Come on, Jesus. You can do it. Don’t give up. We’re right here. If you make it to the end, we’ll love you forever.” No. Jesus will have no spectator disciples. “Whenever Christ calls us, his call leads us to death.”25
But that’s not the gospel we like to sing about. We prefer to sing songs about how Jesus died for us. Now, let me say plainly, that is a very good song. We should praise God for the cross of Jesus Christ: how he died for us, how he saved us, how he paid the price for our sins. But I’ve noticed we don’t sing about the rest of the gospel, the part about how we are supposed to die with him and for him. We’ll sing about the cross as the gift of God, as something that he has done for us. But we rarely sing about the cross as a gift of God done to us and through us. In fact, the next time you gather with other disciples to worship God, notice how often we praise God for the cross of Jesus as if we were spectators of the divine drama, played out for our benefit. We’ll even rehearse the Passion play as a spectacle during Easter, watching the rejection, torture, and execution of Jesus from the comfort of our seats. Yet there’s usually something missing from the script of these theatrical performances. As spectators, we never hear Jesus say: “Whoever wants to be my disciples must deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me” (16:24). It’s something we don’t like to sing about either.
I have these fond memories of growing up in church and attending weeklong revival meetings. Typically, we’d have a guest preacher (whom we would call the “evangelist”) and a song leader take charge of nightly worship services. There always seemed to be an excitement in the room, a holy anticipation of God’s presence. More members would show up for choir; more visitors would attend church. People who hadn’t attended worship services in a while would come back. Warm embraces and smiling faces filled the sanctuary—this wasn’t “church as usual.” The song leader would direct the choir in a rousing number to kick off the service. Revivalist hymns were sung at a faster tempo, a pace that seemed to encourage everyone to sing loud. The song leader would coax even the most reluctant congregants to “make a joyful noise,” no matter what it sounded like. We’d sing about heaven, about salvation, about the blood of Christ, about our shared faith. Then, after a solo performance worthy of an audition for The Voice, the evangelist would bring down the house with powerful sermons about the atoning death of Jesus. Invitational hymns were the climax of the service; we’d sing “Softly and Tenderly, Jesus is Calling,” all the while praying for our friends to go forward and get saved. When that happened, there would be rejoicing like I’d never seen before. Great shouts of joyful celebration, a communion of souls, a nearly palpable sense that God was among us. It would feel like heaven had come to earth, just for a little while. The glory of the Lord would refresh our hearts and resurrect our spirits—so much so that, invariably, a brother or sister would testify to our agreement, “Wouldn’t it be great if we could somehow capture this moment, hang on to this feeling? Sometimes, I wish we’d never have to leave.” Then, the entire congregation would offer a hearty, “Amen!” We’d all linger for a time before heading home, back to reality.
The glory of those mountaintop experiences never lasted. They were never supposed to—although I didn’t realize it at the time. We knew the euphoria wouldn’t last; it never does. But we often wondered why the glory of the Lord’s presence—lives changed, hearts renewed—always seemed to fade over time. Now I think I see why. We were singing about heaven, preaching about the atoning work of Jesus, celebrating what God has done and will do for us—all very good gifts. But we rarely sang about the necessity of carrying the cross of Jesus, the glory of sharing in his messianic suffering, the importance of losing our lives for the kingdom. We all wanted a glimpse of heaven on earth, trying to capture the glory. Perhaps that’s why ministers identify with Peter, wanting to tarry on the mountain and revel in the glory. It’s because we prefer the bright lights and celebrity. (“Let’s sing one more verse!”) Eventually, though, all disciples must follow Jesus down to the valley. Therefore, rather than bask in the glory of his fame, we should learn to sing all the verses about the “old, rugged cross”—not only to cling to it but to carry it, all the way to Jerusalem.
1. David Friedrich Strauss, The Life of Jesus, Critically Examined, trans. from the 4th ed. by George Eliot (New York: Macmillan, 1898), 538–40.
2. Talbert, Matthew, 207–9. See the discussion in Davies and Allison, Matthew, 2:689–93.
3. Luz explores the significance of the transfiguration for disciples via the Feast of Metamorphosis celebrated in the Eastern Church (Matthew, 2:400–404).
4. Davies and Allison, Matthew, 2:706–7.
5. France, Matthew, 640–41; Garland, Reading Matthew, 183.
6. See the helpful summary in Luz, Matthew, 2:395–97. Luz comes to the conclusion that “the transfiguration . . . is a ‘polyvalent’ story that permits several possibilities of association” (ibid., 397).
7. France, Matthew, 628.
8. Luz, Matthew, 2:378.
9. Talbert, Matthew, 202.
10. See Bruner, Matthew, 2:150–54.
11. “Promises of the kingdom without the cross come from the devil” (Keener, Matthew, 433).
12. Contra Albert Schweitzer, The Quest of the Historical Jesus, ed. John Bowden (Minneapolis: Fortress, 2001), 332–54. For the famous quote that was omitted from later editions, see Dunn, Jesus Remembered, 47.
13. Davies and Allison, Matthew, 2:664.
14. Ibid., 2:663.
15. Nolland, Matthew, 688.
16. For a brief and vivid description of the political scene, see Paula Fredriksen, Jesus of Nazareth, King of the Jews: A Jewish Life and the Emergence of Christianity (New York: Knopf, 1999), 12–17.
17. Josephus, Ant. 18.3.1–2.
18. Nolland, Matthew, 695–96.
19. Turner, Matthew, 412–14.
20. One of the Jewish groups who spent a lot of time anticipating the end of the age was the Qumran community, probably a group of Essenes who had withdrawn from the world to prepare themselves for the last war. We even found among the documents they produced, known as the “Dead Sea Scrolls,” a book called “The War Scroll.” See Florentino García Martínez, ed., The Dead Sea Scrolls Translated, trans. Wilfred G. E. Watson (Leiden: Brill, 1994), 95–125.
21. For a good discussion regarding the eschatological roles of Moses and Elijah, see France, Matthew, 648; Talbert, Matthew, 208–9. Chrysostom (Homilies, 346) assumes Jesus summoned Moses and Elijah to appear to his disciples for their benefit, to show why the crowd was wrong about him (Matt 16:14).
22. Regarding the messianic implications of the heavenly proclamation, see above, 72–73.
23. Bruner, Matthew, 2:182.
24. Davies and Allison overstate the case: “For Matthew, Jesus is not a substitute but a leader” (Matthew, 2:681). See the rebuttal by Bruner, Matthew, 2:140.
25. Bonhoeffer, Discipleship, 87. (The well-known translation is rather dynamic. Literally, Bonhoeffer wrote, “Jeder Ruf Christi fährt in den Tod” [“Every call of Christ leads into death”]; ibid., 87n11.)