I was looking forward to voting. It was the first presidential election in which I was at least 18 years old. I knew where my polling place was. I knew how late they were open. So I took my time finishing all of my homework, and with minutes to spare I sauntered from my dorm room to the polling place a few buildings over, that served all the college students in “north campus.” I handed over my driver’s license. The person ran their finger down the list of registered names to vote. Mine wasn’t there. “You’re not registered to vote here,” they said. Well where am I registered? She looked in another book, “Central campus. But you’ll have to hurry. There's only minutes left until the polling stations close.” My eyes widened and eyebrows raised. I hitched up my pants and jogged in the crisp autumn air down to central campus. The public university I attended sat at almost 7,000 feet above sea level so running was a challenge. I wasn’t dressed in athletic clothes, but in comfortable study clothes. 

I reached the central campus polling place. Just as I did a man stepped outside with a megaphone and began to shout, “Hear ye, hear ye, the polling place for the 2000 presidential election will be closing in 15 minutes!” I had arrived just in the nick of time. They found my name on the list. The poll worker asked me to confirm my address. It was wrong. It was my address from my freshman year dorm. I don’t live there anymore, I moved to the north campus this academic year. Well then I couldn’t vote here. I had to vote in the precinct where I lived. I explained that I was just there, and they made me run down here. No, you need to go back and explain to them that you live there now. I thought they were joking, but they were not. I turned on my heel and set off into the night running once again, this time up hill. 

We live in a challenging political environment. The next few months are going to get more political, with more attack ads, more misinformation, and more shenanigans. There could be more arguments with family, friends, and neighbors. There will probably be more propaganda, bumper stickers, lawn signs, flags, buttons, conventions, and speeches. It is exhausting. Wouldn’t it be nice if there were an alternative? There is!

Jesus is a viable alternative to political earthly power. How do we know this? It all has to do with the Bible reading from Matthew 16. There are two very important and interrelated terms: “Son of Man” and “Son of God.” What do these terms mean? Why is their meaning counterintuitive? Well I’m glad you asked. 

“Son of Man” comes from the book of Daniel and refers to an apocalyptic vision of when God comes to rescue the earth with an eternal kingdom of salvation. There is a vision of a divine and Godly ruler who comes from God and yet appears like a “Son of Man.” So the title “Son of Man” refers to a divine figure who happens to look like a human. 

“Son of God,” however, is a title used for an earthly king. It was used for Jewish kings before the time of Jesus. Even though the people knew that the king was a mere mortal, they had a special calling from God to rule the people. “Son of God” was a title for an earthly king. Even the Roman Emperor was called “Son of God” and this inscription can be found in the archeological record. 

How fascinating, then, that when Jesus asks the disciples who do people say that the “son of man” is, they speculate either John the Baptist or Elijah. These were godly prophetic men, but not with great political power. They were not kings. Then Jesus asks, “Who do you say that I am”? Peter identifies Jesus, not with the spiritual title “Son of Man,” but with the political title of “messiah,” anointed