I just spoke to one of them.  One of those people who have, in a very real sense, just “discovered Jesus.”  I think that’s one of the most exciting aspects of my role as a pastor—being able to sit and listen to the story of their journeys.  For many, this Jesus, who has now invaded their lives, had previously either remained a repulsive figure, or been kept at arms distance by recasting him as merely a “good man.”  But upon his invasion, their distain or dismissal transforms into devotion.  A common theme that I hear from these people is a surprise to discover that as they look back over their lives—now with new eyes—they see him ever-present.  Even though in a sense it looks as if he’s just come on the scene, in reality he’s preceded them each step in their own lives.  And he’s cornered them in hopes of hearing them formulate the most important question they’ll ever ask. 

This reminds me of a parallel realization which C. S. Lewis’ character, Shasta, has in The Horse and His Boy (book 3 in The Chronicles of Narnia).  While traveling a long, difficult, and depressing journey, the boy Shasta discovers that he’s not alone in the pitch dark of his forest trek one night.  He’s terror stricken to discover that a “Thing” has been walking beside him for some time in the darkness.  Shasta became aware of its initial eerie presence by its deep breathing.  Lewis writes that Shasta “[came] to notice this breathing so gradually that he had really no idea how long it had been there.”  And when Shasta finally addressed the Thing (who he later discovered was the lion Aslan), asking, “Who are you?” the Thing replied, “One who has waited long for you to speak.”  And the boy discovered that the Thing who had been only experienced by him in echoes and shadows, had actually been present and directing his trek all along.  It was not until the lion told the boy how exactly he had interfered with his journey that the boy realized that he had never really been alone on his difficult journey.  In fact, the lion was committed to spare no pains—to the boy or to himself—until he had brought Shasta to the end of his journey.

Lewis’ obvious analogy rings true in our own experience of how God guides and guards us.  He hounds after us, relentlessly pursuing us as if we were prey, until we ask those frightening and freeing words, “Who are you?”  I would suggest that this question seems to be the most important question God ever wants us to ask of Him.  Jesus drove this point home to his apprentices when he asked them, “Who do people say I am?”  And then more pointedly, “Who do you say I am?” (Mt 16:15).  Likewise, think about the singular common response to so many of Jesus’ carefully planned actions and pronouncements (e.g, actions demonstrating his control over weather patterns or pronouncements of absolution for people’s moral grievances).  Most responses went something like this, “Who is this man who can do such a thing?” (e.g., Lk 7:49).

Conversely, the most dangerous position to be in is one of indifference.  Indifference comes when our minds are so swept away by the business of life that we are never quiet enough to ask this most important of questions.  This is why we must be careful not to allow our culture of amusement (“amuse” means without thinking) to keep our lives so noisy that we can never be in quietness enough to hear the deep breath of the untamed Lion of God walking beside us.

REFLECTION QUESTIONS:
1. Read  Mt 16:13-18.  Based upon the context, how important is the question which Jesus asks?  Why do think Jesus believes this question is so important?

2. Ought those who call Jesus “Lord,” stop asking the question in Mt 16:15?  Why?

3. Think back over your experiences.  In what way can you see how God has been pursuing you?

4. In what ways does our culture encourage or discourage musing, reflecting, or thinking deeply?