The Trouble with Jesus
by Constance Hastings
The Trouble with Jesus: He's not known by what people call him,
but how the people he calls live out their lives

Names Matter.
Names aren’t just labels. They’re status badges. What people call you shows where you stand, who you roll with, how much respect you get. Jesus knew this game. By asking his disciples the question, it was more than checking his street reputation. Public response was consequential to power and impact.
“Who do people say the Son of Man is?”
First Century Polling
The Twelve were Jesus’ hype team, the ones who would hear the drumbeats spell out announcements that Jesus was coming or in town. So many times, crowds mobbed him: people swarming around to hear him spit truth, see what he might do, who might get healed or fed or called to follow him. His name was common in the day, but the weight attached to him was what mattered. So he asked, checking the pulse of his ministry.
Son of Man? This was the name by which he frequently referred to himself in the third person, sometimes sounding like a substitute for the pronoun “I”. Awkward maybe, or a little weird. Why not just call himself the Messiah as he wanted to be known?
That may be so, but it deflected the impression that his intentions were to gain the kind of powers political or religious leaders crave. On the surface, it afforded him a name that grounded with the people, that he spoke on their behalf so they could understand God and know they were loved by God. But those schooled in the ancient writings might also catch the deeper reference: Daniel’s vision of someone who looked like a man, coming out of clouds, given authority, honor, and royal power. (Daniel 7:13-14) Big cosmic energy.
No Real Consensus
Fine. But somehow to call yourself Son of Man may have thrown them off. The disciples had heard various theories:
“He’s John the Baptist back from the dead.”
“Nah, he’s Elijah.”
“Maybe Jeremiah?”
Basically: Some old prophet rebooted.
You had to give the people a break. It was hard to wrap their minds around who this Jesus was and what he was going to do. True, the Jews were looking for a Messiah, but Jesus wasn’t organizing an overthrow of the Roman regime or plotting a coup. People had enough of superheroes and gods using mortals as pawns. Why become a part of that? In short, there wasn’t a lot of consensus to answer his question.
Anyone who has ever preached, blogged, spoken to a small group or a big crowd, and/or created a podcast knows the potential to be misunderstood or not fully heard is pretty significant. The flaw can be in the communicator or in the audience or both; either way sometimes the message just doesn’t get through. Jesus knew that.
But he needed to know something deeper. The Twelve were out there among the people. They were being asked what they believed. Known as his inner circle, their opinions would matter and be solicited. So Jesus asked,
“Who do you say I am?”
It wasn’t a test. Not a trap. Their answers would not determine if they could stay on as a disciple. He genuinely wanted to know. At this point in their relationship, how did they see him? What name did they put on him, how did they understand him? The answer would indicate if not what he would do next, then how they could be trusted to answer for him going forward.
“You are the Messiah, the Son of the Living God.”
Simon Peter dropped the mic. The first one called, he’d seen it all: the healings, the parables, watched him tangle with the religious authorities and defend the losers, calm storms, feed hungry crowds, and encourage the brokenhearted. His witness confirmed that Jesus was the hoped-for one who would rescue people from oppressions both systemic and individual, that is, save people from the worst of themselves to be the best of themselves. Jesus proclaimed in himself was what no one could do unless from God, who lived as God, and was God.
Simon Peter’s answer, simple and straightforward, contained more than what creeds or theological tomes spill out thousands of times over. Its brevity rose from revelation, an inspiration that came not from logical deduction but born of insight from the spirit. Jesus commends Simon Peter and his response.
Power in a Name
Jesus flips Simon’s name.
Peter. Jesus affirms how Simon is solid and will be a major leader in the movement which will follow Jesus’ time on earth.
Rock. Names matter, and this new, additional name means rock. That movement will endure because of Peter’s rock-hard confession, this foundational premise of who Jesus is, the rock on which the church will stand.
Church. The word is only used twice by Jesus in this gospel, but never does it mean a place, a building. Jesus’ church is a movement. People who stand on that rock‑solid confession. This rock-solid confession stands against the tension and destructive assaults on heaven by anything hell throws.
Heaven. Hell. Names with weight. One carries the connotations of light and love, the other implications of regret, hate, and separation from hope. Heaven’s keys granted to Peter and his confession show that recognizing Jesus as the Son of the Living God is the hinge point, accepted or rejected, that name defines everything.
What’s in a Name?
Huge moment, for Jesus as well as the disciples. But it’s one thing to proclaim who God is and another to live by it. Two different things. The Twelve weren’t fully there yet. Jesus knew it. The Son of God told them, next time you are asked who I am, don’t say Messiah. Until their lives matched their words, rock would be no more stable than loose gravel. Their lives would say what his life meant.
A name carries meaning, a foundation you stand on. Something you stake your life on.
Names matter.
Named 2024 Notable Book Award by Southern Christian Writers Conference
and
Kingdom Book Awards 2026 Finalist!
The Trouble with Jesus: Considerations Before You Walk Away by Constance Hastings
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