Jesus is walking with his disciples, they come to a town, and then suddenly he turns to ask them who people say he is. “Some say you are John the Baptist. Some say you are Elijah. Still, others say you are Jeremiah.” The way I see it? Very exceptional titles indeed.

He’s not done: “but who do you say I am?” Very impressed by Peter’s answer, Jesus in fact confirms it to be a revelation God has himself given Peter. “Flesh and blood has not revealed this to you.” Jesus was obviously interested to hear what men thought of him, but he seemed keener to know what his disciples thought. Is it that he was even okay with the speculations, because he charges them to tell no one of his being Christ? Interestingly, about to be crucified, Jesus still answers Pilate evasively, and in a manner that feels a little too impertinent for his own good.

Pilate: Are you king of the Jews? Jesus: You say that I am.

It’s mostly a pleasure to be well thought of by outsiders; to be honoured, respected, and celebrated. Jesus was, in his own right. But just like Jesus did, would we not also rather ask those closest to us: “who do you say I am?” Our neighbors and friends might think us angels, but our siblings and roommates know we are devils. What do those closest to you say about you? It might be the most fair and accurate assessment of your character. Why fret so much about lighting up a whole city when you are unable to light the room you reside in.

So, who do you say I am? You see, if you haven’t yet shared a life with me, I don’t care so much for your answer, or at least I want to not care so much for it. Some of you judge me too harshly; still, some of you praise me too profusely, I fear that the latter are likely more wrong about me.