In Greek mythology, after leading his fellow titans in a revolt against the Olympian gods, Atlas was condemned to hold up the heavens for all eternity. Over the centuries, the details of the story got kind of mixed up, so when we now think of Atlas holding something, we picture him holding the whole world. He’s, as we say, “carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.” 

We, however, carry the weight of the world, not on our shoulders, but in our pockets. Every injustice, every catastrophe, every outrage, piped directly to us, fast and loud. 

How then do we hear the still small voice of God beneath the noise of it all? To find assurance, comfort, direction, the next step, when it’s all too much?

The digital age promised a revolutionary new world marked by connection, life, and the sense that we’re all a part of something greater than ourselves. And it has somehow done the exact opposite. There’s something different about these online spaces.  It’s as if they’re trying to replicate something that we can only truly experience when we gather together in a room with other people. 

The book of Acts is Luke’s description of the effects of the Gospel.  It chronicles the spread of the good news of Jesus and the birth of the early church. In it, we see that when the body of Christ gathers to participate in something larger than themselves, what results is an outpouring of resources that gives life to the world. 

Jesus shares his sacredness, shares his holiness, shares his love, grace, forgiveness, mercy, the very Spirit of God with us so that we might share it with the whole world.  And to participate in the life of the church is to get to be a part of that.

For most of human history, relationships were entirely local. Studies of medieval church records find that most people lived their whole lives within a 10 to 30 mile radius from where they were born. Friendships were maintained through physical presence, shared meals, and working side-by-side.

The internet has changed everything. We can maintain meaningful, instant, on-going contact with one another regardless of distance.

Technology is training us to live this kind of disembodied life, separated from other people. Screens connect us while at the same time creating a physical barrier between us. But God did not save us with information. Instead, God became human and made his home among us. Jesus had a body.

Just by showing up, paying attention, and engaging one another, we are becoming like Jesus. God is shaping us into a body.

Most depictions of technology we see in popular culture arrive at the same conclusion. Technology is going to end us… Now the Bible doesn’t mention iPhones, the internet, or social media apps, but it does have a lot to say about why things keep going off the rails, and what God has done to put it right. It is not a list of self-help practices, but it does show us how to be healthy and whole human beings in a fallen, thorny world.

To be made in the image of God, as it says in Genesis, means that humans have the capacity and the potential to reflect, to reveal God, to reveal the attributes of the One who created us.  And it is not what we’ve done right or wrong but the image of God in us that is the deepest thing about us.

Based on recent estimates, Meta, owners of Facebook and Instagram, extracts roughly 89 cents of profit from each person’s daily attention. You’re worth much more than that to God. You are made in the image of God and redeemed by the blood of the lamb. You can’t put that into dollars and cents.

Today, we conclude our series on the gospel of Mark and instead of sermon, today is an opportunity to engage and come up with our own takeaways to a question central to the gospel. It’s the same question that Jesus asked his disciples: “Who do you say that I am?”

There isn’t one right answer to this question. Our relationship with Jesus is not static but dynamic. Our thoughts about Jesus change through the years. They’re influenced by our circumstances, the stage of life we’re in, things happening in the world around us, in our families, and with our friends.

But for a few minutes, we invite you to use the resources provided, consider how others have answered this question, and wrestle with it for yourself.

Can you think of times in your life when you were really surprised? Like, really stunned. How did it feel?

Three women arrive at Jesus’ tomb expecting one thing… only to find something they were not at all prepared to deal with. A moment that would change the trajectory of their whole lives. 

Sometimes the surprise is so shocking, so earth shattering, so eternally consequential… and so good, that it’s hard to believe it. Sometimes we’ve been through so much, been disappointed so many times, that it’s hard to believe “happily ever after.” 

Sometimes we look for Jesus and Jesus is not where we expect him to be. “He’s not here, he has risen.” And he’s inviting us to take him at his word, to trust, to believe, and to live the very good news.

Good Friday is the day we remember God's great love to us, expressed to us in the person of Jesus.  On this night we gather at the church to sit at the foot of the cross and consider Jesus' crucifixion and death.  

But who is Jesus? What does his life have to do with anyone else’s? What does his life have to do with ours? Does what Jesus said and did 2000 years ago speak to us today? 

Three of our own, Katie El, Katherine, and Zach, agreed to share their own answers to the question, “Who is Jesus to you?” Tonight, we bear witness to their words and stories, as we consider our own.

Jesus tells Peter that he will deny ever knowing Jesus, not once, but three times. To which Peter adamantly proclaims, “even if I have to die with you, I will never disown you.”

Then, after Jesus is arrested, Peter is recognized. The fear of possibly being arrested too takes over, and Peter says the first thing he can think of to distance himself from Jesus. Later, Peter is recognized again... and again and proceeds to deny ever knowing Jesus again… and again. Peter recognized his failure and is so ashamed that “he broke down and wept.”

Can you think of a time when you responded to something out of fear? Because you were afraid of failing or of not being enough? Maybe you were also afraid to upset someone. What happens when we promise boldly, only to break that promise? How would Jesus respond to us if we were Peter in this moment?

It’s often easier to just let someone else make the call.

Pilate did not think that Jesus was guilty of the crimes he was accused of. However, he tried to avoid making a call: he sought more information, he tried to buy time, he basically phoned a friend. He was in a position to protect an innocent man, to alleviate his suffering. He had an obligation to do what was right; to bring justice to an unjust situation.

Yet, he shrugged off responsibility, ignored his own convictions, and disengaged with the situation at hand. In doing so, sentenced Jesus to death.

What does it look like for us to engage with Jesus even when this get hard? To not absolve ourselves of responsibility but to participate more fully in the working out of our salvation. To do the thing Pilate wouldn’t.

“How does following Jesus inform the way we worry about the world?”

In Mark 13, Jesus says to his disciples that the temple will be destroyed, which would have meant the end of the world for the disciples and the rest of the Jewish people as they knew it.

Four of them took Jesus aside and pressed him, “Tell us, when will all this happen? What signs can we look for?” They wanted to know when and how this would happen. But instead of answering “When is the world going to end?” he answered, “How are we going to live in a world that is going to end?”

Because of what we believe about Jesus, we truly can be uniquely non-anxious about our messed up world. That belief can equip is to move in and through the crises of this world with a little less panic and carry on with the often tedious, under-appreciated, and unglamorous work of following Jesus and living for the sake of neighbor.