Theme: Give up your life, for Christ’s sake; it’s the only way to save it.
Theme: Give up your life, for Christ’s sake; it’s the only way to save it.
Give up your life, for Christ’s sake; it’s the only way to save it.
This morning we’re looking at Mark’s Gospel, chapter 8, beginning in verse 27, and we’ll read all the way through chapter 9, verse 1. I actually think chapter 9, verse 1 belongs with chapter 8—it puts a finer point on what Jesus is telling us at the conclusion of this passage—so we’ll include it as well.
This is the infallible, inerrant, inspired Word of God. This is not the word of men. This is not pious advice. This is the living, true God speaking to you and to me this morning. Give your attention now to the reading of God’s holy Word.
[Scripture reading: Mark 8:27–9:1]
As a boy, I remember going with some friends to Hershey Park in Pennsylvania. Like any amusement park, the biggest draw was the roller coasters. There were many of them—the Comet, the Trailblazer, the Great Bear—but the one I remember most vividly was Storm Runner.
Storm Runner launches you from zero to seventy-two miles per hour in two seconds, shooting you straight up 150 feet and then plunging you down 180 feet. In a matter of seconds, you experience soaring heights and terrifying depths. And then, just as quickly, it’s over.
If you were going to describe Mark’s Gospel in amusement park terms, it would be a roller coaster like that. It begins with a bang—no birth narrative, no warm-up—just John the Baptist in the wilderness, and suddenly Jesus appears. Almost immediately, there are incredible highs: healings, miracles, crowds, authority. And yet there are also deep lows: opposition, rejection, isolation, suffering.
By chapter 8, we reach what many commentators rightly call the turning point of Mark’s Gospel. Everything before this has been asking one great question: Who is this man? Now Jesus begins to answer a second question: Why did He come?And finally, What does that mean for you?
As Jesus and His disciples travel toward Caesarea Philippi, He asks them, “Who do people say that I am?” The answers are revealing.
Some say John the Baptist—resurrected from the dead. Others say Elijah. Still others say one of the prophets. Each of these answers is flattering. Each acknowledges that Jesus is extraordinary. But all of them miss the mark.
In every case, Jesus is placed into a category—one among many. Perhaps the greatest prophet, but still only a prophet.
That’s what the crowds thought, despite all they had seen.
Then Jesus turns the question directly to His disciples: “But who do you say that I am?”
Peter answers plainly and boldly: “You are the Christ.”
That is the only right answer.
Jesus is not merely a prophet. He is not Elijah. He is not John the Baptist. He is the Christ—the anointed one, the Messiah, the fulfillment of God’s promises stretching back to Genesis 3:15.
This Christ is the promised King of 2 Samuel 7, whose throne will last forever. He is the Son of Man from Daniel 7, given dominion and glory and a kingdom that will never pass away.
Peter gets Jesus’ identity exactly right.
And yet, immediately after this great confession, Jesus gives a strange command: He strictly charges them to tell no one.
Why? Because although they know who He is, they do not yet understand why He has come. Their vision is partial. Like the blind man healed in stages earlier in the chapter, they can see—but not clearly.
So Jesus silences them, not because the truth is unimportant, but because it is incomplete without the cross.
Jesus begins to teach them plainly: “The Son of Man must suffer many things, be rejected, be killed, and after three days rise again.”
This is an emotional and theological freefall for the disciples. The Christ—the King—must suffer?
The word must is crucial. This is not a possibility. This is divine necessity. There is no other way for sinners to be saved.
Jesus must suffer because sin must be atoned for. A substitute must die. And that substitute must be infinitely worthy, because our sin is infinitely offensive to a holy God.
Peter cannot accept this. He rebukes Jesus. And Jesus, in turn, rebukes Peter with the strongest words He ever speaks to a disciple: “Get behind me, Satan.”
Why such severity? Because a Christ without a cross is no Christ at all.
Any gospel that promises glory without suffering, victory without atonement, a kingdom without repentance, is not good news—it is satanic deception. As Sinclair Ferguson notes, for a moment Peter spoke with the accents of Satan, offering a shortcut around the cross.
But Jesus will not bypass suffering. The throne comes through the cross, not around it.
Having redefined the Messiah’s mission, Jesus now redefines discipleship. He calls the crowd and says:
“If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself, take up his cross, and follow me.”
To deny yourself is not to erase your personality or suppress your humanity. It is to surrender your old identity.
Jesus is calling for the death of the self-made self—the identity built on achievement, relationships, success, power, or control. All of these eventually fail.
True identity is found only in union with Christ. As Paul says in Galatians 2:20, “I have been crucified with Christ. It is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me.”
As C. S. Lewis observed, the more we get what we now call “ourselves” out of the way and let Christ take us over, the more truly ourselves we become.
This is the first mention of the cross in Mark’s Gospel, and it would have shocked the original hearers. The cross was not jewelry. It was a torture device.
Jesus is not saying that His atoning work can be replicated—only He can bear that cross. But He is saying that His followers must live cruciform lives, marked by obedience, sacrifice, and allegiance to God’s will above all else.
Discipleship is not about comfort. It is about conformity to Christ.
Following Jesus does not lead ultimately to death, but to life. Yes, there is suffering. Yes, there is loss. But there is also resurrection.
Jesus does not only promise the cross; He promises glory. When the Son of Man comes in the glory of His Father with the holy angels, those who have lost their lives for His sake will find them forever.
As Peter would later write, reflecting on this very moment, the prophets spoke of “the sufferings of Christ and the subsequent glories.” The suffering is real—but it is not the end.
I’ll close with words from Mere Christianity, which beautifully summarize Jesus’ call:
“Give up yourself, and you will find your real self.
Lose your life and you will save it.
Submit to death—daily—and you will find eternal life.
Keep back nothing.”
Nothing you have not given away will ever truly be yours.
Nothing in you that has not died will ever be raised.
But if you look for Christ, you will find Him—and with Him, everything else thrown in.
Amen.
