In Jesus' day, people had different ideas about who he was. They knew his name. Many people knew of him by reputation. But lots of people had different opinions about just who he was. Some people thought that he was John the Baptist. John the Baptist had been executed by Herod just a few years before. Jesus was related to John the Baptist, and they preached some of the same fiery, revolutionary messages. So some people figured that maybe John wasn't dead, as they'd heard, but that this man Jesus was really just John carrying on under a different name. Others figured that Jesus must be the prophet Elijah. You may remember that Elijah was a prophet of God many centuries before Jesus' time. And the Hebrew Scriptures tell that Elijah never died, but he was taken up into heaven to be with God while still very much alive. So some people heard about Jesus and his teachings, and they figured that maybe he was Elijah, returned from heaven to begin his prophetic ministry once again. Others figured Jesus was just one of the many prophets sent by God to test and tease and hold the Jews accountable to their relationship with God. Jesus' disciples told him all this popular speculation about who he really was. Then Jesus asked them, his closest friends and companions, "But who do you say that I am?" And Peter, speaking on behalf of the disciples as he usually did, answered, "You are the Messiah." The disciples who shared their lives with Jesus knew him best. These friends who traveled with him, ate with him, studied with him and prayed with him came closest to understanding just who Jesus really was. Popular opinions about Jesus from strangers missed the mark. But those who knew the struggles of Jesus' life and ministry held the clearest understanding of his identity. Those who shared his struggles had the greatest insight. Those who followed in his footsteps, who devoted their lives to share his path, they were the ones who came closest to understanding who Jesus really was.

We're all susceptible to being victims of mistaken identity. It happens in big ways and small ways all the time. People near to us and strangers alike don't fully understand us. They think of us in one way, but we know in our hearts we're different than they think. One of the fastest growing crimes is identity theft. People are stealing our addresses and identification numbers, and then using that information to steal our identities. Thieves are gaining access to our personal information and finances. They're taking out lines of credit under other people's names, illegally racking up huge debts that cripple the financial future of their victims. Victims of identity theft have reported that even though they've never met those who perpetrated these crimes, still they've been made to feel deeply violated and personally assaulted. It's not just identity thieves that can make us victims of mistaken identity. Strangers walking down the street size us up all the time. Acquaintances may think that they know who we are by our clothing or the color of our skin or other circumstantial and superficial evidence. I remember a report of an attempted purse snatching a couple years ago. The thief picked out an older, grandmother-looking woman from the crowd. He snuck up behind her, grabbed her purse, and attempted to yank it off of her shoulder. This woman, coincidentally a self-defense instructor, tripped her would-be robber, incapacitated him with a knee to the groin, and quickly attracted the help of others to restrain the thief while police were called. The would-be thief thought that he knew enough about her by her appearance to determine that she'd be helpless to defend herself. What he didn't know about her made all the difference. And that's often the case. What people don't know about us makes all the difference. Last week's epistle reading reminded us not to treat people differently based upon superficial differences like clothing or wealth. Jesus went further, when he explained that the most important parts of us are those things that take time to learn. The most important things about us are the things that aren't easily seen or summed up. To know who we are requires the sharing of our lives, the understanding of our experiences, the time-consuming work of listening to each other in order to glimpse the child of God wrapped up inside the circumstances and choices of our lives.

Of course God knows us that well. It's God who knit us together in our mothers' wombs, so the prophets have told us. God knows us like a potter knows the clay, having shaped and formed it with her own hands. And God calls us to know and be known by others as well. It's in community that we come closest to truly recognizing each other, appreciating each other, and understanding each other as deeply as Christ called his followers to understand him. I know that there are deeply faithful people who believe that it's equally possible to live a life of complete Christian solitude as it is to be an active participant in a church. I don't doubt the sincerity of faith of people like the poet Emily Dickinson who lived a life of solitude and wrote of her deep faith in God. But I also don't believe that there's any good gift of faith that God grants us that we're meant to keep to ourselves. I don't believe that there's any blessing that comes from a vital faith in God that we're not meant to share with others. To know each other and be known is our calling from Christ. Knowing others and allowing them to know us is hard, vulnerable work. This is at the heart of the identity of the church. We gather together to share a part of our journeys, in order that we may be known for who we truly are. The community of faith was established to provide a place of safety where we can let our shortcomings show. The church should be a place where we can risk asking what feels like a stupid question. The church should be the place where we may "sin boldly" as Martin Luther put it, knowing that forgiveness and reconciliation are always in infinite supply. I just returned from helping to staff the Strength for the Journey retreat for people living with AIDS. The miracle of this retreat, I believe, is that there are absolutely no demands placed on those who attend. We offer all sorts of activities and diversions and group building games, but these are all offerings, not requirements. We welcome people to share openly, to express themselves honestly, to be no one other than they know themselves to be. They are held accountable only to their health and self-care. Other than that, the only commitments that matter are the commitments that they choose to enter into while at the retreat. Such freedom and responsibility has a remarkable way of creating intimacy. Strength for the Journey is remarkably effective at building community and forging relationships of trust and acceptance. The formula is simple: allow people to make themselves known as they choose. Allow people to develop relationships of trust at their own pace. Share space and meals and time together, with no demands of faith or forced participation, and a community of loving acceptance will grow. Christian faith calls us all to a shared journey. God calls us to be known and know others as part of web of love, forgiveness, and accountability.

Who knows who you are? Not your name, or your job, but who is it who knows what's inside of you? Who knows who you long to be, and how you see yourself? Of course, God knows who you are deep inside. But Christian faith also calls us to enter into relationships of mutual love and accountability with others along the journey. The call of Christ is to follow in Jesus' footsteps, including being part of a group of people who know you well enough to hold you accountable to your aspirations and dreams. Perhaps it's as part of a Bible study or fellowship group. Perhaps you can invest your time and take the first steps to being known as part of the choir or a prayer group. Wherever it is, to follow the path of Christ calls us to invest ourselves in others. Our faith compels us to open ourselves, and to take the vulnerable step of sharing not just our names, not just what's at the surface, but sharing what's inside of us with people we trust to hold us in faithful love. Find that community. Here or somewhere else, just find it. Rely on it. Allow other people to rely on you. Your soul will be nurtured and your faith will grow by leaps and bounds when you choose to be part of a community of faith bound together by love. May God who gives us the will to do these things also grant us the grace and the strength to do them. Amen.