he goes before us

So many things happened on that Thursday. The day right before Jesus was killed was indeed a busy one.

 

There were feet to wash. There was bread and wine to be given new meaning. There were prayers to pray and anguish to feel. There were hymns to sing and betrayal to be acted on. There was talk of death and promises.

 

In all of it, Jesus goes before us. He leads the way, showing us how to love well—even those who would betray us. He gives high and holy attention to the act of serving one another by serving those who had argued for place and position. He enlightens the disciples about the coming of his death and his willingness to go to it out of obedience. He gives us new traditions to practice so we never forget his body and his blood. He offers hope in the face of apparent tragedy.

 

He goes before us.

 

Jesus even leads the way in exposing our sin and waywardness. Even as he is about to die for us he acknowledges that we really aren’t up to the task of standing by him, remaining faithful, and unashamedly call him our Lord. He knows us.

 

Then Jesus said to them, “You will all fall away because of me this night. For it is written, ‘I will strike the shepherd, and the sheep of the flock will be scattered.’ But after I am raised up, I will go before you to Galilee.”      Matthew 26:31-32

 

But he promises, yet again on this Thursday, to go before us.

 

“But after I am raised up, I will go before you to Galilee.”

 

Even though all the disciples are going to fail him, even though they are all going to run when things go wrong, Jesus wants them to know that he’ll go before them. He’ll be ready to meet them. When it comes time for the resurrection reunion, Jesus will be there first.

 

Is there anything that underscores the beauty of the grace of Jesus like his willingness to bring us back to him when we sin? His leads us in our redemption.

 

He goes before us even in this. He died to make us his own and then he rushes ahead of the betrayers, the fear mongers, the embarrassed followers, to claim them as his own with love and the gift of peace.

 

This is Jesus, our Savior.

 

He goes before us in death, before us to defeat sin, before us in resurrection, before us in eternal glory. He is Jesus.

 

Christ has been raised from the dead, the firstfruits of those who have fallen asleep. For as by a man came death, by a man has come also the resurrection of the dead.           1 Corinthians 15:20-21

 

the cross

Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us also lay aside every weight, and sin which clings so closely, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us, looking to Jesus, the founder and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy that was set before him endured the cross, despising the shame, and is seated at the right hand of the throne of God.            Hebrews 12:1-2

 

“Why would they hang Jesus on something as wonderful as a cross?” 

That’s the question my daughters posed to me the other day as we talked about the death and resurrection of Jesus. 

They were scandalized to discover that the cross was such an instrument of torture. Baffled to find out that it’s only wonderful because of what Jesus did by dying on it. They had a few moments of difficulty getting their minds around the idea that a cross was always—in all cases—a terrible thing meant for terrible purposes. They had only thought of it in the context of what Jesus did on it; how he saved us by it. 

 

They see the cross and know that it was an awful and painful thing Jesus went through to die for us, but they see the cross and are thankful. They are encouraged. It brings to their minds thoughts of heaven and hope for painless days to come. They imagine days of resting on the Father’s lap and times of wrestling with him. “Do you think we could pin him down if we all ganged up on him at once?! I mean all of us—all the people in heaven?! 

They know that these hopes and dreams, these realities of the future, are only possible because of the cross, because of Jesus’ death and resurrection. They think of the cross and they think of all the hope and joy that it brings to us. 

And we know that Jesus endured the cross with joy. He endured this instrument of depravity and destruction, this tool that kills in such a deplorable way, robbing the dying of humanity and dignity even as they lose life. He endured this torturous device with joy. He despised its shame, bringing glory and eternity to bear in the hearts of humankind. 

He changed not only our thoughts of the cross, but also our future, our hope and even our very hearts. He took our shame and gave us his righteousness.  

We should never forget the wickedness of such a device—meant not only to kill, but torture in the dying. It reveals the deep darkness of humanity’s heart. It proves the point the Father has made: we need a Savior. We need redeeming. But we should also see the cross and think of the joy of Jesus, dying to bring us life. The Father took the curse of the cross and made it a hope, a joy, a freeing from the shame. 

Christ redeemed us from the curse of the law by becoming a curse for us—for it is written, “Cursed is everyone who is hanged on a tree”  Galatians 3:13

 

tears of the King

This is holy week. These are the days that lead up to the death and resurrection of Jesus. There is no more significant time than this. Everything we believe, everything we try to devote our lives to finds purpose and meaning in the events that culminate at the end of this week.

 

Paul the apostle says that if Jesus is not resurrected from the dead then we Christians should be pitied above all others (1 Cor. 15:19). We have set our hope here. We have set our identity in the resurrected One. This week we stop the regular, monotonous rhythms in favor of a few moments; brief times to reflect and remember. This week holds the key to all the hope: Jesus making his way to the cross; Jesus knowing where he is going; Jesus in reverent submission, sacrificing his holy, prefect self for ragged sinners who neither understand nor care. God in perfect love and ultimate sacrifice, bringing life to the lifeless.

 

In this we hope.

 

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During the days of Jesus’ life on earth, he offered up prayers and petitions with fervent cries and tears to the one who could save him from death, and he was heard because of his reverent submission. Son though he was, he learned obedience from what he suffered and, once made perfect, he became the source of eternal salvation for all who obey him and was designated by God to be high priest in the order of Melchizedek.   Hebrews 5:7-10

 

I have tried to find words for the tears of Jesus. But how do you write about the grief of the Almighty?

I wrote in abstract, and then I wrote in the matter of fact. I wrote a poem, and then I wrote a story. I wrote and deleted, wrote and deleted.

 

The simple fact is, Jesus coming to earth—God in flesh, living among us, living to die—these realties mean Jesus weeps.

 

“…fervent cries and tears…”

 

There are no words for the Creator crying over his creation. Crying not just because it’s gone all wrong. Crying not just because it isn’t as it should be—us living in wicked rebellion and lost-ness. But crying because he loves greatly and fervently and even to the point of death. Crying for the Self-inflicted pain to bring Self-glory and our worship.

 

Putting that to words? They just all end up sounding childish or obscene in the face of such grace and love.

The Son of the Most High learning obedience in suffering. The Almighty Messiah in reverent submission. The grief of perfect love does wild and reckless things—reckless by the standards of earthly wisdom. There are not words because there is not the ability to wrap our minds fully around a love so pure and perfect and full of glory. That God would love us so much that he would not simply find a way for us to reach him, but would give himself to save us. Not a love that says, “I can’t watch you self-destruct so I’ll wipe the slate clean and start again.” But a love that says, “You have no hope in yourself. I will pay the price for you. I will die myself, so that you can live in me.”

 

As we focus on Jesus making his way to the cross this week it is good and right for us to remember that as he walked this earth he did so offering up prayers and petitions with fervent cries and tears.

 

How could we be loved this much? That the King of glory, strong and mighty, would weep for the lost? And not just weep, but the Creator enters creation and dies for the sin of those who do not even love him!

 

The source of eternal salvation, the Son of reverent submission, who learned obedience, suffered death—this is our King of glory. Our King of tears.

 

the other son

What do you think? There was a man who had two sons. He went to the first and said, “Son, go and work today in the vineyard.”

“I will not,” he answered, but later he changed his mind and went.

Then the father went to the other son and said the same thing. He answered, “I will, sir,” but he did not go. Which of the two did what his father wanted? 

“The first,” they answered.                  

Matthew 21:28-31

 

The other son. The one who says he’ll go, but then doesn’t. He’s the one who talks a good game. He’s the one that says all the right stuff when his father asks him to do something. He is willing, at least for appearances, to do what he is asked. But then, when no one’s looking, when the father has left with the expectation that he will go and do what he said he would do—he doesn’t do it.

This “other son”…he is us. Or at least, he is me. Not always, but too often.  

I want to please, to obey, to go when the Father says go, to do what he asks me to do…but sometimes I want other things more. Jesus doesn’t tell us why the “other son” doesn’t go even though he said he would, but knowing me like I do I would say that something “better” came along. And by “better” I mean something he wanted more at the moment. Something that distracted or pleased or interested or otherwise drew his attention away from what he had told his father he would do.

I don’t believe that he intended to lie to his father. In fact I think quite the opposite is true. I think this because the other son is a lot like me. Just like me, the other son wants to please the father, but he also likes to please himself.

And so the father asks him to go and work in the vineyard and he responds in the affirmative. Why wouldn’t he want to do what his father wants from him? But then, later, when it’s time to go, other things are occupying him. I know this story. It’s been my story over the years.

The Father calls me to live life a certain way, and I’m all about it…until I’m not.

And so Jesus tells the story, to me as much as to those listening on that day. And in the story I find myself. For me, I usually find myself in the other son. I’m rarely the first son. I don’t usually tell God “no” straight out. I’m far too cowardly for that and far too interested in obeying him. Genuinely, I do want to obey. As I said, my problem is that too often I just like pleasing myself more.

But maybe you find yourself in the first son. He has his own issues too, but in the end he at least does what his father asked. Either way, whether we are more like the first son or the other son, one thing seems clear to me today: Our relationship with the Father still needs work.

As Jesus moves closer to the cross this Monday of Holy Week let’s recall that he went there so that we might have the privilege of even having a relationship to work on. Without Jesus we would not be first son or other son. We wouldn’t be in the family at all!

The cross is coming. This is Monday—it will be here Friday with all its death and pain and suffering. And Jesus goes willingly towards it, for us.