More Than a Savior
- Rev. Dr. Thomas Evans

- 1 day ago
- 6 min read
2 Samuel 7:12–16, Matthew 16:13–23
What does the Lord require of you but to do justice and to love kindness and to walk humbly with your God? Micah 6:8b
Ever since the reign of King David in 1000 B.C., Israel has yearned for a ruler like him because history has been cruel. David represented the pinnacle of Israelite sovereignty, and so a prophecy arose: there would be a king like David, who would rule an eternal throne, known as “the messiah” — no more cycle of violence, no more idolatry.
This might be akin to America looking back on the halcyon days of George Washington, when leadership was filled with honor and morality — before politics had lost its way to special interests, and the country had forgotten the privilege of freedom, and the responsibility to be a beacon of hope to the world.
In George Washington's time, it was an era of unprecedented, timeless wisdom. The war with England honed their understanding of what it not only meant to be a country, but what it meant to be a moral person.
The writings in America were both unique at the time, but had also drawn on some of the best minds from around the planet and across the years. There was a similar bursting forth in King David's time.
David's rule was a time not only of political stability but of expansion. He executed trade deals with King Hiram of Tyre that brought money and resources, and the arts also flourished. David was not only a warrior, but a poet and a musician. He played the lyre and composed many poems — timeless insights not only into people, but into the very heart of God. Truly, today, what we would call a Renaissance man.
Phrases like “The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want.” “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” “Create in me a clean heart, O God.” “The Lord is my light and my salvation — of whom shall I be afraid?” “This is the day the Lord has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it.” These quotes are all from the Psalms, a timeless collection of some of the world’s greatest poetry.
It is unlikely — extremely unlikely — that David wrote all or even the majority of these songs. But this fact underscores a key facet of his legacy. They have been attributed to David because the nation of Israel saw him and that era as their most treasured and coveted time.
So when Peter called Jesus the Messiah, we can understand his motivation for wanting the Messiah to be another king like David. It was a unique time in Israel's history, never again to be repeated — a time of peace, prosperity, flourishing arts, and pride in what it meant to be the nation of Israel. Any person in Peter's shoes would want the same thing. But alas, Jesus knew better than Peter that even those halcyon days of Israel had a fatal flaw.
As with America during the time of Washington, Israel had an infection of sin. For our country, it was the stain of slavery. And for Israel, David's lust.
David allowed his passion to lead him to become a murderer. And the fruit of his illicit liaison, Solomon, became the next anointed king of Israel — and it was through his leadership that Israel was set on a path that it still suffers from today.
Under Solomon's leadership, taxes became excessively burdensome, and forced labor became the pawns of Solomon's lust for grandeur. But he played favorites, exempting his own tribe from these burdens. He took over seven hundred daughters for wives, and conscripted sons for unwise wars. Eventually, Israel literally split into two kingdoms and two kings, never again to be reunited.
Yes, Jesus, more than anyone, knew how the flaws of even one person can lead a whole nation to embrace their lesser selves.
This is why he responded so harshly to Peter: “Get behind me, Satan.”
I don't think Jesus believed that Peter had been possessed by an evil being, but rather that Peter was offering a temptation. Satan means “tempter.” Peter was tempting Jesus to take an easier path — the path of least resistance. And Jesus knew that such temptation leads to tragic consequences.
After the revelation that Jesus was the Messiah, he brought the disciples closer to the truth. He was not going to be a leader like King David — a warrior who slayed Goliath and killed lions with his bare hands. He was not going to establish a political dynasty. In fact, he was going to be a victim. He was going to suffer not only physical pain and death, but social shame and rejection — and most of all, that he would be killed.
Peter's conception of the Messiah simply did not account for a messiah to suffer shame rather than adulation. David represented the opposite, and if the Messiah was a king and a ruler like David, Jesus must be mistaken. But the truth was there for Peter to know: the prophet Isaiah, who not only told so many profound prophecies concerning the Messiah, but also explained that he would suffer and that he would not be a violent person. “A bruised reed he would not break.”
We have a good idea what Peter and his fellow Israelites wanted from Jesus, and how terribly mistaken they were about the precise nature of his messiahship. But what is it that Messiah means to you and to me, and to Christians in general? What do we want from the Messiah?
Unfortunately, like Peter, our conception falls short of the true nature of the Messiah.
We see the Messiah's job as savior of our souls. And indeed, this is high on my list as well!
But in our modern times, we have turned the Messiah into the servant of our desires rather than the Lord of our lives and the world. Let me explain.
We love going out to eat, don't we? It's simply one of the favorite things that Wendy and I do together. And what I like so much about it is the wonderful menu — I can choose pizza with gorgonzola and pears, or a fantastic flounder with broccoli rabe and creamy lemon sauce. I can get a Diet Coke or a delicious frozen margarita with a sugar rim.
We love eating out because we can pick and choose what we want and don’t have to clean up the mess we make. The restaurant exists to serve our wants and desires, not to give us what we actually need.
We want health, wealth, forgiveness, and then for God to essentially leave us alone.
But Jesus loves us too much to simply be a Menu God that preserves our souls just as they are. He loves us too much to allow us to experience less — even one bit less — than the life God intended for us, both here and in the hereafter—Abundant, true life.
It is a most sublime destination, but it requires a long, hard road of discipline. Just as Jesus himself had to be disciplined for his mission and suffered much on the path, so too will we — when we struggle with temptation, to do that which we know we ought not to do; when we fail to stand up for others; when we hold on too much for ourselves and don't share enough for others; when we treat those we love the most the worst.
So truly receiving what the Messiah has to offer is not a momentary decision, but one we make each day. Every morning we wake up, we seek to be more faithful, more loving, more open. And that is how the Spirit that Jesus sent helps us to change — until eventually we are transformed, like that proverbial butterfly, into something beautiful, perfect, timeless. And it is not only for us. The messiah wants to change us so that we can change the world.
It won't all happen in this lifetime, but we can get closer.
Jesus, the Messiah: the savior, the sufferer, the servant, the beloved, the friend, the Lord. Peter is not the only one who got it wrong. But the good news is Jesus gives us forgiveness and a road map. Let's follow it, and find that true abundant life — not only for ourselves, but for all God's children.
Amen.


The article's analogy of our desire for a 'Menu God' who serves our wants rather than being the Lord of our lives is incredibly insightful. It powerfully illustrates how easily we can misinterpret the true purpose of faith, focusing on convenience and personal satisfaction over the challenging, transformative path Jesus outlines. We often seek an easy way out, perhaps even finding parallels with how some look for simple distractions like unblocked games 66, when the real journey requires profound discipline and self-reflection.