Beautiful ten-year-old Rachel Hurst came to visit with me this past week about her baptism.  She had some very good questions, the kind of questions only genuine child-like faith can ask.  In particular, we spent a great deal of time discussing the fact that, no matter when or where you get baptized, your baptism goes with you the rest of your life.  Because it is about our risen Lord Jesus and what he is still doing in us, our baptism is not limited by time or space.  So, as we go along in life, even though fewer and fewer people will have actually witnessed our baptism, everyone we encounter the rest of our lives ought to see evidence of our baptism by the way we live.

To illustrate this, I pointed out to Rachel that, even though she had not seen me be baptized when I was about her age, hopefully, see could see the evidence of my baptism in the way I live now.  I was baptized, I told her, over forty years ago in my hometown of Brownfield, over 350 miles west of here.  And, Rachel said, “Long, long ago and far, far away.”

It was impossible not to draw a straight line from Rachel’s words to what we are celebrating this time of year.  Long, long ago and far, far away, Jesus died for our sins and God raised him from the dead.  He was baptized in death and raised in glory.  We weren’t there to witness his baptism or his resurrection.  But, because conquering death through Jesus is something God is still up to, what happened long, long ago and far, far away is not limited by time or space; it’s still happening now.  We see the evidence of Jesus’ baptism all around us and that evidence has special meaning to us as we come to the conclusion of this sermon series, “Taking a Walk with Jesus.”

Did I say “sermon”?  You’d think by now I’d have learned to be careful with that word.  It can have a strange effect on people.  The other morning, I got this great sermon idea and just couldn’t wait to share it with Nancy.  I’ll admit it was only 2:30 in the morning, but I couldn’t wait.  So, I slipped back into the bedroom and asked her if she were sleeping.  I think she said “no,” and I started telling her all about my new sermon idea.  I wasn’t even half way through it when I heard the quiet, deep breathing that usually accompanies someone having just fallen asleep.  There is just something about that word, “sermon.”

What I really meant to say this morning was, “journey.”  Isn’t that what this is?  This isn’t just a worship service; it’s one more step on the journey.  It’s about us coming to this place every week and asking, “What’s our next step on the journey with Christ?”

All we’ve done is take a closer look at some of Jesus’ steps, asking ourselves how that ought to affect the way we take our next step, if we truly are committed to walking with him.  That’s what we’ve done this past three months.  Mostly, we’ve taken out this beautiful photo album, preserved for us through twenty centuries of time.  One particular chapter is entitled, “The Gospel of Luke.” 

This is what we have seen.  Long, long ago and far, far away, Jesus was baptized himself, demonstrating that the first public step of obedience is taken in the waters of baptism.  Long ago and far away Jesus kept the party going when he turned water into wine at a wedding, demonstrating not only his miraculous powers but also his commitment to transform from the inside out.  Long ago and far away, Jesus had the courage to go back home where, in the presence of the people who seen him grow up, the most difficult crowd we ever try to convince, he gave public confession to what the call of God on his life was like.  Long ago and far away, Jesus was pushed to the edge of a cliff because of his confession and chose to walk away, demonstrating what it means not to let the anger of others set our personal agenda and choosing the hill we’ll die on or we may be crucified anyway on a hill that doesn’t mean anything.

Long ago and far away, Jesus climbed into a boat and encouraged some fishermen to let their nets down one more time even though they’d had no luck all day.  When they drew their nets back in, they loaded two boats to the point of sinking.  Jesus used the occasion to illustrate that being a follower of his includes networking others into God’s kingdom, not just following him to heaven ourselves.  Long ago and far away, Jesus stood on the same level as some very broken and hurting people to demonstrate that helping others means standing on their level with them.  Long ago and far away, Jesus took time out to pray and proved what a transforming experience that can be.  Long ago and far away Jesus took on Satan’s personal challenge and proved to us that being serious about faith doesn’t give anyone a pass on facing down evil, even evil that engages us at the level of our most basic appetites. 

Long ago and far away, Jesus chose not to run away when Herod was threatening to kill him, proving that staying around long enough to make the holy difference means learning to bless those who curse you, even if it costs you your life.  Long ago and far away, Jesus told the story about a fig tree that its owner wanted to cut down, perhaps the most sobering reminder to the modern church that our only way of making a difference is if our lives count for others.  Otherwise, we’re taking up real estate that God would prefer to use for something else, and eventually will.

Long ago and far away, Jesus let Mary pour a bottle of very expensive perfume on his feet as preparation of his body before instead of after his death because he wanted us to know that there is no way to life except through death.  Those are the eleven steps we’ve taken over the past three months, all of which bring us to this morning’s step in our walk with Jesus. 

A walk that began the evening before his crucifixion at a final meal with his disciples, a meal that Christians memorialize every day around the world and was followed by his arrest and a trial that would have turned justice as we know it on its ear.  Finally, his steps included the longest and loneliest walk any human ever took, through the streets of Jerusalem up on to the hill he’d chosen, to suffer the most brutal execution ever devised by a supposedly civilized government. 

If we were just looking at a photo album, that’s all we’d see, just pictures of what Jesus did.  The Bible gives us more than that.  It not only tells us what happened, it tells us what it means.  Paul would later write about that meaning with in these words.  “All this is from God, who reconciled us to himself through Christ . . . in Christ God was reconciling the world to himself, not counting their trespasses against them . . . he made him to be sin who knew no sin, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God (2 Corinthians 5:18-21).”  So, we celebrate the meaning of all that Jesus did on this special Sunday.  That, in Christ on the cross, God stopped keeping score forever. 

Nancy was telling me about a conversation some of her coworkers were having one day about Mel Gibson’s The Passion of the Christ.  One of her colleagues remarked that she didn’t understand what all the fuss was about.  Nancy tried as best she could to explain that it was about what Christ did in suffering for our sins.  Her friend said, “I guess so, if you believe all that.”

Of course, what Christ did in all the steps he took up to and including the cross are true whether we believe them or not.  But, her friend had a point.  They only mean something to us personally if we believe all that.  Otherwise, we’re on our own.  If we do believe in all the Christ did, we do benefit from it all.  But, we do more than that.  We become a part of it. 

So, Paul also wrote these words.  “Let the same mind be in you that was in Christ Jesus, who, though he was in the form of God, did not regard equality with God as something to be exploited, but emptied himself, taking the form of a slave, being born in human likeness. And being found in human form, he humbled himself and became obedient to the point of death- even death on a cross.  Therefore God also highly exalted him and gave him the name that is above every name, so that at the name of Jesus every knee should bend, in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and every tongue should confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father.”

Over and over again, Jesus gave up his power, power that was rightly his, and forever modeled for us what being a part of God’s eternal kingdom was about.  Think like that, Paul challenged.

He once said of himself that, when he was a child, he thought like one (1 Corinthians 13:11).  He lived with himself at the center of all his concerns.  But, he had learned that determining to live for Christ meant determining to think in more mature, adult like ways.  For those of us who choose to follow Christ now, that means determining to change our minds, too.  That’s not always easy to do.

I’ve had to learn that I’ve had to change my mind about being middle-aged.  I really don’t care to wear hats.  But, I’ve found that if I don’t change my mind about that and expose my balding head to the noon sun, then I’ll look like I do today, like I’ve been bobbing for French Fries.  How many of us have said, “When I was growing up, my dad taught me . . .” or “when I was growing up I was told . . .” and finished that statement with lessons learned in childhood to justify our behavior even though we’re now adults?  More people than not are children masquerading as adults because they’ve never been willing to change their minds from childlike to adult-like ways of thinking.  When I was growing up, my stay at home mom always had dinner on the table at 5:00 every afternoon.  I’ve learned that being happily married now means learning to think differently in terms of what I expect from my wife, who is not my mother.

When I was a child, I was allowed to think in ways that had more to do with how this world adapted itself to my needs.  Now, thinking like Christ means asking, as the primary question that dominates my thinking, with the model of Christ on the cross, how I can use whatever power I have to make a loving difference in the lives of those my life touches.  It means being made new from the inside out by the presence of Christ who lived long ago and far away and who lives within me now, so that I might be the presence of Christ in this world now. 

When we misunderstand God’s purposes and his transforming ways we can become very dangerous people, especially when we try to impose our ways on others.  This morning’s Dallas Morning News carries an article entitled, “5,000 at Dallas rally say God and politics to hand in hand, (DMN, Sunday, April 4, 2004).”  Keynote speakers included a former presidential candidate, prominent pastors and an Alabama judge who was fired for refusing to remove a stone monument of the Ten Commandments from his courthouse.  The intent of the rally was support the idea of abolishing separation of church and state laws.  One participant was quoted as saying, “I don’t believe in the separation of church and state.”

The whole premise of groups like this is that it is O.K. to impose our religious convictions on our culture and to do so by manipulating the political process until government standards are synonymous with our convictions.  It’s a frighteningly short-sighted way of thinking about cultural transformation.  Maybe it will not be a problem in our lifetime, but would we want our children, grandchildren or great-children to live in a nation where those elected to political office might not be trying to court the political influence of the Christian community but felt no restriction with regard to imposing whatever religious convictions they had on our government?

We ought to try and get our government to behave with concern for high moral standards.  Christians should vote and run for office and live out their convictions in that way.  But, nowhere in scripture is there any evidence that Jesus saw as his primary mission the transformation of culture through the moral straightjacket of political reform.  His mission (remember, water to wine?) was to transform people from the inside out, not the other way around.

Weston Ware and his colleagues with the Christian Life Commission have struggled for years with calling our state government to the highest moral standards, especially with regard to matters of social justice.  Currently, they are battling against the growing and very shortsighted trend to fund public schools through proceeds from gambling, an addictive behavior that victimizes the most vulnerable, namely, the children of those who gamble.  Walking the thin line of difference between influencing government for what is ultimately good and demanding the conformation of civil government to the values of one particular religious institution, Weston and those who work with him are trying to be the presence of Christ in the political process. 

Again, we are challenged to have the mind of Christ in us.  That means more than studying the thought patterns of a first century rabbi.  It is the moral imperative to the church and to individual Christians to be apprentices of Jesus in all that we do so that, by being transformed by his presence within us, we become the presence of Jesus who lived and died long ago and far away in this very moment and this very place.

In the way we use our power, we are to empower others who have no power.  It starts at home, in our marriages and our parenting, by asking how we can be the presence of Christ for our spouses and our children.  It continues in our primary relationships and friendships, asking again how we can be the presence of Christ.  It ultimately extends to every point of contact we have, no matter how casual, constantly asking Jesus to help us think about this world and our place in it like he would he would think about it, and conform our lives accordingly.  That’s what it means to have the mind of Christ in us and thereby be the presence of the living Christ who lived long ago in the place we live now.

We are only here this morning because, long, long ago and far, far away, Jesus traded equality with God for a cross.  What are we willing to trade to make life in God’s kingdom possible for others and to participate in bringing the will of his heaven to bear on this earth now?  What are we doing right now to make what happened long ago and far way a part of the world we live in every day?

We’ve been taking a walk with Jesus this last several weeks.  Perhaps the most difficult step is the one we take this morning.  The step that leads up the only hill worth dying on.  The step that leads to letting go of what is ours for the sake of others. 

It was the toughest step Jesus ever took.  It will be for us, too. 

Will we take it?