Gloria Dei Lutheran Church

Not long ago my husband and I were on a short road trip, and I explained to him that we’d need to stop at a Target so I could buy a new Fitbit. I had forgotten to pack the charger for this step counter I wear here on my wrist, all day and all night, to keep track of how many steps I take each day. It’s very important to me. I plug it in each day for a few minutes so it’s always fully charged, since I can’t bear to ever lose track. But on that trip, I had left the charger at home, implying that in a day or two, the device might run out of power, and stop recording my steps. Thus, a trip to Target was required.

My husband was less sure of the necessity. “You’ll walk plenty,” he assured me. “Who cares how many steps it actually records?”

Well, what kind of question is that? I do. I care. It’s very disconcerting when my steps don’t count. It’s like I haven’t even moved all day. I’m getting no credit for exerting all that energy. There’s no record, no proof, no exciting little vibration on my wrist when I cross that happy 10,000^th step.

What if no one gives me credit for all my effort?

This is what James and John are worried about, too. They’ve been on the inside track with Jesus. Among the first to be called to follow him, invited into the private conversations, seen as part of Jesus’s “inner circle,” they wanted to be sure they were getting special credit.

“Hey, Jesus,” they ask while walking along the way. “Yeah, just wondering. Could you please see to it that we get to have a place of glory with you? Maybe seats on either side of your throne? Something to show for all we’ve done?”

Their buddy Peter had made a similar comment just a few verses before. After Jesus explained again that those with riches would not be able to enter the reign of God, Peter checks in. “Hey, Jesus, we’ve left everything to follow you. So we’re not the ones you’re talking about, right? We get credit for already giving everything away, right? I mean, just asking….”

We so long to be recognized for our efforts. We get that little adrenaline rush when the teacher puts a smiley face on our homework, or when the coach calls out our name for a great play. We want our coworkers to show some appreciation for our efforts, and our supervisor to acknowledge our contributions. We’d love it if the people who live with us would notice the extra time we put into completing the household tasks, or just to be thanked for doing something routine.

We want to know that it counts, that someone is paying attention to what we’ve tried to do. Better yet, we want to get rewarded for it.

What’s troublesome is when we let this reward mentality cross into a life of faith. Will we get better treatment if we pray more often? Is God noticing that I’m trying pretty hard to be a good person? Is my faith strong enough to get me into the “in group” in heaven? What’s my step count on my Celestial Fitbit?

Jesus, of course, is not signing on to the game. Throughout this last stretch of readings (in Mark 10), he’s been emphasizing not reward for good behavior, but a whole different mentality. Whoever wants to be first must be last. Lose your life to find it. Give up all you own. Let the little children come to me. No one is good but God.

There’s no reward for good behavior or extra credit in the grade book. To sit on my right or left side is not mine to grant. No one is counting your steps and congratulating you. You are in this race for something else altogether.

Today’s gospel text (Mark 10:35-45) is often read alongside that long poem of Isaiah (Isaiah 53:4-12), which can be confusing for us. The Suffering Servant Songs of Isaiah were often read because they seem to describe what would happen to Jesus. In fact, the church still sometimes reads Jesus’ suffering in relationship to Isaiah’s servant, but that wasn’t the reason the songs were first written.

The Suffering One may have been understood to be the people of God as a community. Their suffering was not meant to be reproduced in Jesus’s life, or in any of our lives. Nor do we believe that God intentionally causes suffering for a community, or for an individual, not even Jesus. Rather, we can be assured that God suffers alongside us, and doesn’t abandon us in that suffering.

Jesus doesn’t invite James and John to suffer as a painful sacrifice for others, but as a gift to them.

We have plenty of examples of tyrants of the world who “lord it over” the rest of us (Mark 10:42). Across the last two decades, the rise of a “Strong Man” mentality among world leaders is well-documented[i] and gives us all reasons to be alarmed. The image is in stark contrast to the idea of servants who suffer for their people, or on their behalf.

Jesus invites us into a beloved community in which we do not lord our authority over others, but look for ways to serve the most in need. Rather than finding seats of honor and prestige, Jesus invites us to offer our place to another, and to sit with the lonely or the friendless. Rather than look for praise and affirmation from those we admire, Jesus encourages us to join those who are hurting, to include those who are estranged, to care for those who are struggling.

This is life in the glory of God: Not to worry about who sits near the throne and lord it over others, but to serve at the table and find community in the lives of God’s people, in the midst of daily life, to see how the world is filled with love divine.

We experience God’s glory when we make room for those who seek shelter here this month. We delight in it as we feed those who face food insecurity. We rejoice in its goodness as we advocate for affordable housing, and for black and brown lives, and protection for those at the border. We smile in its sweetness as children join us at the table. We vibrate with its beauty as we join the choir. We are filled with the tenderness of that reign as we realize it echoes with our loved ones’ voices who now sing from another shore.

The reward for James and John and all of us is not God’s favor or recognition. God’s favor arrives way before any of our decisions or efforts, before we drop our nets or follow Jesus to the cross. It comes the moment God ushers us into life, and never ends.

The seats of honor are offered today for Watson and Piper, as they are welcomed in the springs of grace. Their baptism initiates them into new life, not without suffering, and not as a reward for their good efforts or intentions. Yet they are knit into a communion with all creation, a solidarity with the least, and the never-failing presence of love. And it is all so very good.

We ended up not buying a new Fitbit on that vacation. Mercifully, its charge lasted until I got home, and all of my steps were beautifully recorded. But the only reward for that was my own satisfaction. No one gave me a gold star or patted me on the back for my accomplishments.

Fitness is its own reward, I guess. Like the goodness of love. Like a life of faith. Like the peace that passes understanding. Thanks be to God.

[i] https://www.latrobe.edu.au/news/articles/2018/opinion/the-rise-of-strongman-politics, https://www.amazon.com/Age-Strongman-Leader-Threatens-Democracy/dp/1635422809,