Grace to you and peace from God and our Lord Jesus Christ. Our theme for this general council comes directly from the Bible. It is the well-known question of Jesus to his disciples: "Who do you say that I am?"

So most agree, this portion is definitely a highlight in the gospel of Mark. Here, after all, it is recognized, understood and proclaimed that Jesus of Nazareth is the messiah. As far as it goes this much, I think, is true. But here, it is also claimed, is a demarcation from the story in the gospel of Mark, a new beginning which raises a new and totally different set of themes. Some argue that our text focuses for the first time on what is called the "real nature" of Jesus, revealing his "true identity" to his disciples. Of this I am not so sure. Speaking of a "new beginning" too often means that the "first part" of the gospel is now over and done with, and with the "second part" the real story begins. This is a notion we should dispense with right here and now! Jesus' question does not begin something new, it merely takes us to a new understanding of the same story. It raises our consciousness, asking us to dare to take yet another step into the discovery of who this man is and the good news he brings. I believe we cannot even begin to understand what is happening here without keeping firmly in mind what has happened before.

Come with me then! Let us walk with Mark through his gospel story; look through his eyes; hear with his ears; and, hopefully, understand why at that point Mark lets Jesus ask this crucial and critical question - the question that will keep our minds and hearts occupied right through this general council. Mark so begins his gospel, and it strikes us that he is a candid author. There are no secrets here, no attempts at intrigue: "The beginning of the gospel of Jesus the messiah, the son of God". The statement is almost shocking in its openness, its pureness of conviction. Clearly the point at issue is not who this Jesus is, but who discovers and understands what it means. Mark then goes on to reveal just what that statement does mean. He quotes from the prophet Isaiah to show that Jesus is the chosen one sent by God, and that John the Baptist is the messenger who takes on the role Isaiah has described: "After me comes he who is mightier than I," John says of Jesus.

The baptism of Jesus brings together the two crucial elements in Mark's understanding: Jesus' baptism reveals his total identification with sinners, and more such signs will follow. Verse 11 (chapter 1) is the ringing confirmation of verse 1. "Thou art my beloved Son: with thee I am well pleased." The story now unfolds quickly. There is the encounter with Satan in the wilderness, which provides the crucible that symbolizes the battle of Jesus' whole ministry and out of which he emerges victorious; a victory forged out of his steadfast obedience and resistance to evil (Mk 2.12-13).

From there Jesus moves into the world. He gathers his disciples who are astonished with his teaching and his authority. Then came one after the other the mighty works they saw him do And, for the first time, an unclean spirit discovers what the disciples do not yet see. "I know who you are, the Holy One of God." (Mk 1.24-26).

Jesus goes around preaching in the synagogues, casting out demons, healing the afflicted. The dejected find in him a friend, the afflicted discover that he is afflicted in their affliction. And so the leper who rushes to him is not rebuked by a Jesus quoting the law at him, but finds one whose insides are wrenched with pity; one who, defying the law, touches him and says: "Be clean." (Mk 1.40-41). The outcasts are no longer looked down upon; the sinners are not simply judged and condemned; the downhearted find new courage. Friends let a paralytic down through a roof, so sure they are that this man will respond. And here Mark introduces something new: Jesus does not only heal. He has the power to forgive sins, which also brings him into the first conflict with scribes and Pharisees.

Jesus is a rabbi, but a rabbi like no other. He teaches with authority; he dines with sinners; he helps the helpless; he defends the poor and the meek. To the despised he gives dignity, to the hopeless hope and joy, to the wavering he gives faith. With him the law is not an instrument of manipulation or control, not a rock to crush the masses but a liberating power to experience the joy of the love of God. "Humanity is not made for the sabbath," he tells people, "but the sabbath is made for humankind." (Mk 2. 27). What that means is seen in healing and providing food. Then the disciples understood that for him - this Jesus - the sabbath and hunger, the sabbath and illness, the sabbath and indignity are irreconcilable. Then they understood that the law does not exist to protect the holiness of the sabbath, but to enshrine the human-beingness of all God's children.

No wonder, then, that the people were amazed. Such joy, such freedom, they had never known. And glorifying God people said: "We never saw anything like this." (Mk 2.12). No wonder also, that it is at this point that Mark introduces the second crucial element: "The Pharisees went out, and immediately held council with the Herodians against him, how to destroy him." (3.6). Throughout chapter four he teaches parables about the kingdom of God and, in chapter five, for the third time, demons recognize him: "What have you to do with me, Jesus, son of the most high," cries the demon whose name is Legion. Chapters five, six and seven continue to show the breakthrough of the kingdom of God in the works of Jesus. Tensions rise visibly and conflicts sharpen. They come to know him - this man of Nazareth - who spends his time with the "am ha'aretz" (Is 42.1-4, the people of the earth); who so easily defies the law in his identification with those he deemed brothers and sisters; and who reaches beyond boundaries of race, nationality and religion to find a faith such as he has not even seen in Israel. A man to whom the people flocked. Recognizing, if only dimly, the servant of Yahweh who would not rest until justice was done in all the earth.

Then, and only then, comes chapter eight, which begins significantly with yet another feeding of the multitude. Questions on this second feeding abound: Why, ask commentators, does Mark repeat the same kind of "miracle story" only two chapters away from the first? Why repeat it at all when the first one was "more impressive"? What sense does it make to bring in completely foreign elements like the "sign" sought by "this generation" and the leaven of the Pharisees and Herod? There is a last question for the disciples from Jesus that "remains a riddle for the reader" in verse 21. "Do you not yet understand?" But maybe this question is precisely the reason why Mark tells the story of the second feeding of the multitude: No, they do not yet understand what he said in the beginning of his gospel or what the demons have seen - the incident to underline this sad truth - and to prepare the reader for the surprising revelation which is to come. Jesus heals a blind man, a man as blind as those whom Jesus has called, those who walked with him; saw him do mighty works that could only come from God; saw him fulfil what the prophet said only one could do upon whom the Spirit of the Lord rested: proclaiming release to the captives; recovery of sight to the blind; setting at liberty those who are oppressed; preaching God's good news to the poor and proclaiming the acceptable year of the Lord. The disciples saw Jesus do all this, and yet they still did not understand. And it is this not-seeing, not-knowing, not-understanding that Mark, with painful clarity, brings together in the question that is our theme, our challenge, our confession of sin rather than of faith: "Who do you say that I am?" For let me say once again: this question does not reveal so much the "true nature" of Jesus, or even the "identity" of Jesus. It reveals rather our identity or lack of it. It does not reveal where Jesus stands, but where we stand,

This general council will wrestle with important issues through the sections: a "Common Testimony of Faith", "Mission and Unity", " Justice, Peace and the Integrity of Creation." It will be confronted with burning questions that will demand a response: the situation here in Korea, in the struggle for democracy and the longing for unification; the struggle for justice and liberation in South Africa which is still not over, and the woefully inadequate response of the international political community to that struggle.

We will have to face the truth that precious few churches even pretended to respond to the challenges of Ottawa and the call to witness to the gospel today. So many of our churches - especially those who think they are sufficient unto themselves, whose positions of power and financial security make them believe that their need for the Alliance is not as great as the Alliance's need of them - have yet to take this organization seriously as a genuine expression of common testimony within the Reformed tradition. How will we achieve unity in mission when we have neither the unity in our family nor the common sense of mission?

Ottawa brought the Alliance to new heights. We have seen and lifted up issues that after seven years still dominate the ecumenical debate. In this God has blessed us abundantly. But we have missed too many opportunities. For the churches of the third world and for many churches in eastern Europe, their identity has found new meaning in the common identity of our churches through the Alliance. For too many churches in the rich world, however, their identity has been lost in struggles for survival against secularism, weakened political influence and financial power, self-consuming battles for status and a slow but steady loss of understanding of the true meaning of spirituality But then again, churches in the third world also have not always been faithful. Too used to being the focus of the understanding of others, we have understood precious little of ourselves. Our very existence in the eye of the storm has made us complacent, thinking that prophetic faithfulness and evangelical vigilance could be safely replaced by slogans about "the struggle" and what we consider to be a "holy" impatience for our rewards after long years of oppression.

No, the question, "Who do you say that I am?" is not about the identity of Jesus. It is about the identity of the church. We know him to be the messiah, the chosen one of God. We know him to be the one whose call for justice, mercy, compassion and freedom is at the heart of his gospel. We know that to confess him is to call him Lord - of our life, of the church, of the world. We know, too, that there is not one inch of life that does not fall under his kingly rule. We know too that life without him is not worth living, that he is our rock and our salvation. We understand that believing in Jesus Christ as saviour is at the heart of our struggles for justice and peace, liberation and the integrity of God's creation.

This is what Mark is trying to tell us for seven long chapters, before he lets Jesus ask us the question. But we cannot answer meaningfully unless we have understood Mark's journey and made it our own. And unless we can answer not in our own words but in the words Mark is trying to teach us, we will not have answered at all, for we will not know what we are saying.

Peter's answer: "You are the messiah" is followed by a curious sentence: "And he charged them to tell no one about it." (v.30). The wording is strong, the command given in a way that brooks no argument. Why?

Caesarea Phillippi was built by Phillip and named to honour the Caesar. It was a decidedly heathen city. What should it matter here if Jesus is recognized and proclaimed as messiah? What difference does it make to discover that Jesus of Nazareth is indeed the son of man? The test of this truth cannot occur in a neutral place. The revelation can and must only be made in Jerusalem. Jerusalem: city where heaven and earth meet; city of the dreams of God where the vision is seen and believed, or rejected. It is in Jerusalem where this truth must be heard - it is in Jerusalem where it must be accepted or rejected. The world will not know what all this means, Jerusalem will. Over Chorazin and Bethsaida Jesus expresses his "Woe unto you!" with divine anger. But over Jerusalem he weeps.

It is not really so hard to understand. It is only those to whom the name is known who can blaspheme the name. It is in the church - not so much in the world - where Jesus is effectively denied. It is in the church - not so much in the world - where the dream of God for this world is distorted and discarded. It is the temple - not the market-place - where in holy wrath Jesus takes up the whip and seeks to re-create the "house of prayer" out of the "den of robbers". The question: "Who do you say that I am?" is a question about us, not about Jesus. "And he began to teach them that the son of man must suffer..." Entirely and inescapably linked to this question and its answer is the suffering of Jesus and, simultaneously, the cost of discipleship. For those who understand the question and dare to give the answer, there is no escape. The answer can never be a kind of triumphalistic messianism, never the clarion call to join God's armies to march against the world, so sure that victory is certain. It is not the answer that ensures that all questions can be answered and that removes all traces of doubt. It is never the core of our unwavering conviction about the rightness of the "Christian" cause.

It is, rather, the realization that the victory of the messiah comes through the pain and suffering of the cross. This messiah teaches that sharing of the victory only comes after sharing of the pain. The joy does not lie in avoiding Gethsemane, but in knowing that Jesus was there first. It lies not in escaping the fiery furnace, not even in escaping from the fiery furnace, but in knowing that inside the furnace there is a fourth person whose presence brings a coolness not even the flames can penetrate.

Peter's refusal to understand is still echoed today in the inability of the church to understand this: that to cling to your life at all costs is to lose it. But to lose it for the sake of Jesus and the gospel is to save it.

"Who do you say that I am?" This is, indeed, the question. How we confess him will reveal to Korea and all the world who and what we are. We now know there cannot be any bravado here, nor arrogance, nor too much certainty about ourselves. But this we know, for we have learnt it from the gospel. We confess him messiah and Lord - this Jesus of Nazareth, friend of sinners and defender of the poor, help of the helpless, rock of the weak and dejected, liberator of the oppressed, life of the church, light of the world, saviour and the King.

To him who loves us and has freed us from our sins by his blood and made us a kingdom, priests to his God and Father, to him be glory and dominion for ever and ever .

Amen.