That's Not Who I Am

When my neighbor Ed met a new neighbor, he asked her name. “Debbie,” she responded. Remembering her name would be easy because he knew another friend, Debbie. Later, recalling her name was the same as a friend, he called out, “Hi Phyliss.” Wouldn’t you know, Phyllis was the name of another friend? Debbie was not Phyllis. Oops.

Guess I’ve done worse. Like coming behind my wife at church one Sunday, and whispering in her ear, “Where are we going to sit, honey?” When “my wife” turned around . . . oops, she was not my wife, but a woman the same height as my wife and wearing a matching coat. For some reason she didn’t respond favorably to my blundering “honey” advances. Not Honey.

For 3½ years Jesus had to repeatedly counter, “That’s not who I am.”

From Herod’s prison John the Baptist asked, “Are you the one who is to come, or should we expect someone else?” Predicting that Jesus would inflict wrath and judgment, John was stunned with the news that Jesus was healing sick and forgiving sinners.

When Jesus returned to Nazareth, his homies asked, “Isn’t this the carpenter’s son?”

Amazed neighbors could not fathom that the carpenter’s kid who had helped repair their roof was now a renowned miracle worker.

Jesus asked his disciples about public perception, “Who do people say the Son of Man is?” Their responses resembled a Gallup Poll: John the Baptist, Elijah, Jeremiah, or a revered prophet of Israel. Sorry, wrong answers.

Even a few hours before his death, the identity mystery resurfaced – this time with Pilate, the Roman governor, asking, “Are you the king of the Jews?” I detect Jesus’ slight annoyance as Pilate reveals his shaky political status, “Yes, it is as you say.” Sounds a little like a teen-ager’s passive, “Whatever.”

After Jesus’ resurrection, Philip, the disciple, added a final blow when he requested,

“Lord, show us the Father.” BAM. “Don’t you know me, Philip, even after I have been among you such a long time?”

The Corinthian Christians had fallen into grim habits. Their Lord’s Supper time was vulgarized by insensitivity, inebriation and division – with little thought of remembering

Christ’s death. Paul warned, “For anyone who eats and drinks without recognizing the body of the Lord eats and drinks judgment on himself.” [1 Corinthians 11:29] 

The communion meal must constantly “recognize the body of the Lord,” – the body that was crucified, the blood that was shed. This meal is not an all-you-can-eat pig out. Not just bread and juice. Not a cute Sunday church ritual. Jesus counters: That’s not who I am.