22 Aug 2026, Exodus 1:8–2:10 and Matthew 16:13–20

Do you know what coffee I usually order when I go to a cafe? An iced long black, or maybe an iced latte. No sugar. But when they take my order and ask for my name, I never give them my real name, ‘Do Young.’ The cafes are usually loud, and since my name isn’t a typical English name, I always end up having to repeat it two or three times. So, at some point, I just started saying, “Kim.” It’s easy, and it completely avoids any problems.

It was April 5th, 2013. Quite a while ago now. That day, just like any other, I ordered my coffee at a very well-known cafe and sat down. It was a perfectly normal, everyday morning. Back then, there were usually newspapers on cafe tables. But the moment I saw the front page, I just froze.

The headline was about the North Korean leader, Kim Jong Un. He had inherited power for the third generation, and at the time, he was only twenty-nine years old. He had paid a massive price to solidify his power. Countless people were purged, and even his family and relatives had to flee overseas. The main point of the article was that he was firing missiles day after day, threatening the whole world with nuclear weapons. The international community, including us here in Australia, was sending strong warnings about his dangerous show of his power.  But the funny thing was, at the exact same time, the news kept making fun of him. The Australian media was no different. Let’s take a look at the screen.

Luckily, I actually kept this photo. It’s the front page of The Daily Telegraph from that day. “Kim Jong Boom!” They took his name, Kim Jong Un, and threw in the word ‘Boom’ as a parody. Genius right? Along with that ridiculous photo. Can you imagine how I felt at that moment?  

A moment later, the barista started calling out that my coffee was ready. “KIM!” Because of all the background noise, I didn’t quite hear it at first. So the barista yelled even louder, echoing through the whole cafe. “KIM!!!” “Yes, that’s me!” and walked up to grab my coffee… But in that split second, I could feel the eyes of everyone in the cafe following me. I didn’t know why.

I went back to my seat, thinking, ‘Ah, this is the spot,’ and looked down at the newspaper again. But I could still feel those strange stares. ‘Why?’ ... And a few seconds later, I realised exactly why. I quietly put the newspaper down and slowly walked out of that cafe. You’ll understand why when you see this next picture.

So, ‘Kim Jong Boom! ‘Why did he have to show off his power and threaten the world, even while getting a mocking nickname like that? In the end, it was because he had to protect the power he was holding onto, no matter what.

If you think about it, all those threatening actions, firing missiles every day, were really just him screaming at the world: “Do you know who I am? I am a somebody!  It was a desperate cry directed at the world, and maybe even at himself. This aggressive question, “Do you know who I am?”, was a deep sense of fear that he might lose everything.

Bu this fear-filled cry, question of “Do you know who I am?” isn’t just a story about the North Korean dictator. Thousands of years ago, the exact same thing happened in Egypt. In Exodus chapter 1, which we are looking at today, we see a man completely gripped by deep insecurity showing off his power. It was the king of Egypt, Pharaoh.

Exodus 1 introduces a new Pharaoh. Terrified by the growing Israelites and fearing a rebellion, he uses extreme power to keep his position.  So what does he do?  He forces them into brutal slavery. But it doesn't work. The more they suffer, the more they multiply. Desperate, Pharaoh gives a horrifying order: throw every Hebrew newborn baby boy into the River.

Just like Kim Jong Boom, Pharaoh was screaming the exact same thing to the world through brutal violence and oppression. He spoke through power. He spoke through fear. He proved himself through cruelty. “Do you know who I am? I am the ruler of this Egypt! No one survives without my permission!

If he had been on the front page of the newspaper back then, maybe we would have seen his photo with a headline like this, right? “Pharaoh Boom!”

So, when he puffs himself up and asks, “Do you know who I am?”, how should we answer? The answer is in verse 8. He is “a king who did not know Joseph.” That’s right. We can look at him and say, “You are someone who does not know God.”

This is really fascinating. Because right in the middle of this terrifying scene, completely different kinds of people appear. Who are they? The midwives. They were people who feared God. Pharaoh calls these midwives and gives them an order. If a Hebrew woman gives birth to a son, kill him right there on the spot. The most terrifyingly powerful man in the world was throwing that command, “Do you know who I am?”, at two of the most powerless women. They could have cost them their lives if they don’t follow his rule.

But the Bible records this: “The midwives, however, feared God and did not do what the king of Egypt had told them to do; they let the boys live.”  We see, these midwives didn’t make some grand theological declaration.  They didn’t preach a sermon in front of Pharaoh. They didn’t stand there and recite a confession of faith. They simply... quietly... answered his violent question, “Do you know who I am?”, with their very lives, based on the God they knew. “We are people who know the God you do not know. I do not fear you. I fear God.” Amazingly, they gave a great answer by the way they lived.

Let’s turn our eyes to the world we live in today. Look closely at the places where tension grows and peace is broken. Beyond the bleak landscapes where people build massive walls, draw lines with harsh words, and coldly push others away... can we hear a sound?

If we listen just a little more closely, the faces and the eras may be different, but all those loud and chaotic noises eventually gather into one single phrase: “Do you know who I am?” Or, “Do you know who we are?”

But does this chilling cry only exist somewhere in the distance? Without us even realising it, that question quietly seeps into our ordinary, everyday lives too. In a world that is desperately trying to prove itself by shouting, “Do you know who I am?” and crushing others with whatever power it has managed to grab.......in Matthew chapter 16, a completely different question is waiting for us.

A question that stands in total contrast to the order of this world. Let’s step into Matthew 16 together. Jesus asks His disciples two questions. First, He asks, “Who do people say the Son of Man is?” But then, looking deeply into His disciples’ eyes, He asks the question He really wants to ask: “But what about you? Who do you say I am?”

What we really need to pay attention to is the place where Jesus asked this questions. Where was it? Caesarea Philippi. A city named after the Roman Emperor. It had a massive temple dedicated to idols worship. It was a spectacular display of wealth and power. With marble temples towering like mountains, it was, quite literally, a centre of power. The entire city was practically screaming, “Do you know who I am?”

Right in the middle of that loud and chaotic centre, Jesus asks His disciples, and He asks us today: Quietly, “Who do you say I am?” Can you feel the weight of this question? Can you see what Jesus is really asking?

This is where Peter gives his famous answer: ‘You are the Christ, the Son of the living God.’” Jesus tells him that he is blessed and promises him the keys to the kingdom of heaven and the church. We absolutely love this answer from Peter.  And so, we often just stop right there. We tell ourselves, “I need to confess it perfectly, exactly like Peter.”

But let’s think about it this way. What do you think the other eleven disciples standing there would have answered? The Bible doesn’t tell us. Someone might still have been thinking, “Maybe He’s just one of the prophets.” “Maybe He’s like a superhero.” There were probably disciples who couldn’t confess it as clearly as Peter. Maybe they just hesitated, or quietly mumbled to themselves.

But as Jesus left that place, He didn’t condemn anyone. He didn’t say, “You got it wrong. You failed.” I believe He was delighted that they were all trying to answer. I think this is what true grace looks like. The fact that the people standing there tried to answer from their own place, from their own experience, with their own depth, and risked offering what was truly theirs... that itself mattered. Because there is no single formula for knowing Jesus. No, to be more precise, the correct answer is not something that can be reduced to one fixed sentence.

Simply put, in this dizzying world that keeps screaming, “Do you know who I am?” if we know who He is, and if we know that He is our Lord, then no matter how short or simple our confession may be, Jesus says that is enough to make us blessed.

When I was applying for theological college, I was actually asked this exact question during my interview:  “Who is Jesus to you?” What do you think I said? That’s right. I confidently answered, “He is the Christ, the Son of the living God.” But the professor looked at me with a disappointed expression and said, “I knew you’d say that. Every student so far has given exactly the same answer.”

And then he asked me again: “No, not that. Who is Jesus to you? Who is the Jesus you have personally thought about, experienced, and felt?” I remember just freezing up. I stumbled over my words in a panic. I thought I knew Jesus. But the truth was, I didn’t really know Him at all. I realised right then that it is entirely possible to spend our whole life saying that we know Jesus, while actually not knowing Him.

How often has that confession truly passed through the painful realities of our own lives and become “ours”? In the places where our lives fell apart... in those dark nights when we were trembling with fear... or in moments of overwhelming gratitude... have we ever taken that sentence, “You are ……”, wrapped it in our own circumstances, and confessed it with our own true voices?

So, simply memorising the correct answer isn’t the end. Our confessions take on different shapes depending on our life journeys and the situations we find ourselves in.

The Jesus we met at twenty, the Jesus we met at forty, sixty, and….. the Jesus we will meet in the future, or the Jesus we meet in a hospital bed or in the midst of deep pain... They cannot all be expressed in exactly the same way.

Some days, we might joyfully shout, “You are the Christ!” But on other days, we might be in tears, saying, “Lord, we have absolutely no idea what’s going on right now. But even so, we will not let go of You.” We believe that is also an amazing confession. Because what matters is not the eloquence of the sentence, but the hearts that hold on to this one truth: He is our Lord.

Just look at Peter, the one who made that seemingly perfect confession. Not long after that, he denied knowing Jesus three times. Knowing it in his head and living it out in his life were painfully different things.

Aren’t we exactly the same? We so often find ourselves crushed by the world’s loud voice: “Do you know who I am?” But my friends, let us not despair here. The risen Jesus went to find the failed Peter. He didn't condemn him. He didn't grade him and say, “Why didn’t you live up to your confession?” Instead, by the Sea of Galilee, Jesus gently touched Peter’s broken heart and asked him again: “Do you love me?”

Jesus doesn’t want our perfect sentences. He wants our love. The kind of love that, even after breaking down, turns back to Him. Even when our confessions sometimes shake and fail, the Christ absolutely never gives up on us.

Look at the midwives who knew God when Pharaoh gave his command. Nowhere in the Bible do we find a grand or eloquent confession of faith from them. But when Pharaoh threatened them, they quietly saved those babies. Through that simple act, they gave a powerful confession of faith: “We fear God.” And that was enough.

My dear brothers and sisters, today, the world is still shouting loudly at us: “Do you know who I am?” Whenever that noise steals our hearts and makes us afraid, let us listen closely to the quiet voice of the Lord asking us: “But who do you say I am?”

We hope that today, in the very place where we live our lives, we will stand before this question with our own true and sincere words. It’s okay if our answers are different from yesterday. It’s okay if our words aren’t perfect. It’s okay if our voices are shaking. Continuing to know the Lord, asking again, and answering as we take another step forward...that is enough.

The Lord rejoices today, listening to our small and sincere answers, even in the middle of all the shouting, all the noise, and all the voices around us. So, my dear brothers and sisters, let us leave this place today with this question in our hearts.

The world will keep asking us, “Do you know who I am?” And we have a choice.

Will we live our lives trying to answer the world’s question? Or will we live our lives answering the question Jesus asks us? “But who do you say I am?”

Not only with our words, but with our lives. So, how will we answer Him as we leave this place today and return to our daily lives? Amen.