Luke 2:1-20: You can relax, Christmas ISN'T over

Its two days after Christmas.  Women, and a few men, are exhaling, vowing to go nowhere near a kitchen for several days.  As enjoyable as Christmas is- the time with family, the meals, the exchanging of presents- we can’t help but feel a sense of relief when it is over.  And yet, is Christmas really over?  There might be a single day where we emphasize Jesus’ birth; His coming into our world, but that doesn’t mean that it should not be something we celebrate all year long.  That’s where the shepherds become important.  Luke actually spends as much time talking about the shepherds in the field, as he does Jesus in the manger.  Why?  Because how we respond to the good news of the incarnation goes a long way in determining whether Christmas is just another day for us, or whether it is something that shapes the way we live all year long. 

The first thing that the shepherds did is hear.  They heard that their salvation, our salvation, comes not from human might, but from God who has come to live among us.  Even in Jesus’ time, there was a temptation to see human might as the ultimate source of salvation.  Paullus Fabius Maximus, the proconsul (governor) of Asia, would say this about Caesar:

“(It is hard to tell) whether the birthday of the most divine Caesar is a matter of greater pleasure or benefit.  We could justly hold it to be equivalent to the beginning of all things...; and he has given a different aspect to the whole world, which blindly would have embraced its own destruction if Caesar had not been born for the common benefit of all.”

We hear the same thing now.  We are called to believe that the person in power, or the person trying to replace that person, will deliver us from all of our troubles.  Luke speaks to us a different gospel.  It isn’t one of human origins, but one whose good news begins with the divine.  You see, while Caesar might have ruled over the “known world”, Jesus is worshipped in every corner of the globe.  Caesar was worshipped as a god for decades, but Jesus has been praised as the Son of God for millennia. 

We hear that there will be salvation, and we also here that there will be peace.  Most importantly, we hear that the peace achieved by the Messiah will be for all.  One of the most famous prophecies dealing with the coming of this Messiah speaks of the ending of conflict, and the ushering in of an era of peace.    

“For every boot of the tramping warrior in battle tumult and every garment rolled in blood will be burned as fuel for the fire. For to us a child is born, to us a son is given; and the government shall be upon his shoulder, and his name shall be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace. Of the increase of his government and of peace there will be no end, on the throne of David and over his kingdom, to establish it and to uphold it with justice and with righteousness from this time forth and forevermore.  The zeal of the LORD of hosts will do this.” - Isaiah 9:5-7

We should read “among those with whom he is pleased” as an inclusive term.  In some versions it is translated so as to almost imply that the gift of the Messiah is only for those with whom God is pleased.  But the idea in the original text is that God’s gift of a Messiah is evidence of His favor towards humankind.  In other words God favors the entire earth, with the birth of Jesus the Messiah. 

The second thing that the shepherds did is witness in two distinct ways.  First of all, they witnessed firsthand that God had indeed kept His promise.  The prophet Micah had spoken of the future birth of the Messiah in Bethlehem:

 “But you, O Bethlehem Ephrathah, who are too little to be among the clans of Judah, from you shall come forth for me one who is to be ruler in Israel, whose coming forth is from of old, from ancient days.  Therefore he shall give them up until the time when she who is in labor has given birth; then the rest of his brothers shall return to the people of Israel.  And he shall stand and shepherd his flock in the strength of the LORD, in the majesty of the name of the LORD his God.  And they shall dwell secure, for now he shall be great to the ends of the earth.  And he shall be their peace.” - Micah 5:2-5

Now the shepherds knew that the word they heard from the angels was true.  It was not enough for them to hear about what God had done, they had to experience it for themselves before it could affect their faith.  Because they personally witnessed God’s goodness, revealed to them in the form of a manger, they were able to become witnesses themselves.  The shepherds, along with Anna, are the first evangelists.  The shepherds become to others, what the angels were to them, proclaimers of good news. 

Our journey is to go from being shepherds, to being angels.  Our word angel is derived from the word for “messenger”.  Once the shepherds experienced the newborn Son of God in a manger, they stopped being shepherds who had received the good news about Jesus Christ, and became angels who proclaimed the good news. 

Christmas may have passed, but the result of Christmas is as real every day of the year as it is on December 25^th.  Christ has come and lived among us.  May the good news that you hear lead you to the manger, not just in December, but throughout the year.  May what you experience there, lead you to become a messenger, an angel, boldly proclaiming the fact that our Messiah has been born.  May the sounding forth of that message bring the peace to our world that was inaugurated with the birth of Jesus Christ.   

Luke 1:39-56: Mary did you know?

It’s the time of year when we are reminded of the unexpected nature of God’s work in our world.  Perhaps nothing is more unexpected than the birth of the Messiah, in a manger, in a backwater town like Bethlehem.  When we read of the meeting between Mary and Elizabeth, when Mary was pregnant with Jesus and Elizabeth with John the Baptist, we are reminded by their words that God did not just make His appearance in our world in unexpected ways, but that His appearance was only the beginning of the unexpected. 

It is not overstatement to say that God comes in unexpected ways.  The very fact that God comes at all is a testimony to the graciously unexpected nature of God’s actions.  Even before Jesus was born, He began demonstrating His willingness to meet us where we are.  After all, according to social convention, it should have been Elizabeth who visited Mary.  Elizabeth says as much when she asks, “And why is this granted to me that the mother of my Lord should come to me?” (Luke 1:43)  And yet there she is, Mary at Elizabeth’s doorstep, with an unborn king in her womb.  As we see her standing there, it is a reminder of a Savior who makes house-calls, a reminder of the fact that the seat at God’s right-hand stood empty for some thirty-odd years as God demonstrated how far He was willing to go to meet us.  And when Christ displays the humility necessary to leave heaven, He humbles Himself entirely in that He forgoes not only the glory of heaven, but the luxuries of earth.  He is not born to a queen or a princess, but to an unwed virgin.  His first cries as He enters our world do not echo through the halls of a marble palace, but emanate from a manger, in the all but forgotten town of Bethlehem.  God comes in unexpected ways, through unexpected people, but most importantly, He comes.     

And when God does come in unexpected ways, through unexpected people, he continues to surprise us as He does unexpected things.  In a passage referred to as “the Magnificat”, Mary lifts her voice in praise to God, not just for the role she has been granted to play in the divine drama, but for the role that her Son will play.  She says things that we are quick to overlook or at least water-down, because they don’t sit well with our first-world mentality.  She states that God opposes the proud.  Why?  Because the proud insist on saving themselves, they insist on their own brand of self-attained righteousness.  In all Jesus’ run-ins with the Pharisees and with lawyers, what is at stake if not the source of human righteousness and sanctification?  She says that God opposes the powerful.  Who is it that puts Jesus on trial?  It might be the common man who shouts "crucify", but it’s the Jewish and Roman establishment, the council, Herod, and Pilate who sit in judgment.  The powers of this world stand opposed to a God who is willing to manifest Himself not only in power, but also in humility demonstrated by self-sacrificial love. Finally we hear from Mary that God opposes the rich.  This is the deepest cut to those of us who think we live modestly, but yet are rich when compared to our brothers and sisters around the globe.  It is startling the number of run-ins Jesus has with the rich.  He chastises the rich fool (Luke 12:13-21), listens to the lament of the rich man who failed to help Lazarus (Luke 16:19-31), and causes the rich ruler to leave grief stricken, after he is unable to surrender his riches in order to follow Christ (Luke 18:18-30).  But that isn’t the end of the story.   

God does not simply oppose, He also looks…upon His humble servants.  He also shows mercy…to those who fear Him.  He also exalts…the humble.  He also feeds…the hungry and the poor. 

If we view the story of the manger through the eyes of Mary, it should cause us to change how we see ourselves, and how we want to be seen by others.  Rather than striving so hard to place ourselves among the proud, the powerful, and the rich, maybe we should learn to be ok with being humble, fearful, and poor. 

God will do great things in our church, in our community, and in the world.  The question is, will we turn ourselves over to God, to be used as instruments to accomplish those things?  If we will, then like Mary, all generations will call us blessed.  

I Peter 4:12-19: what's in a name?

One of Peter’s themes in his first epistle is the reason for our suffering.  Suffering is a universal experience; it happens to us all in some form or fashion.  There is suffering whose cause is amoral.  Many diseases are not the cause of our own good or evil action, but the result of circumstance, genetics, or even just bad luck.  Peter is not talking about that type of suffering.  He’s talking about the type of suffering we bring on ourselves.  It can be the result of either our good, or our evil actions. 

Originally, the name “Christian” was most likely intended to be a slander.  Christ was reviled by most of the Roman world, or at least by those in the Roman world who had heard of Him.  What type of Christ, or Messiah, is crucified?  For that reason, followers of Christ were referred to as Christians, in an effort to identify them with someone who the world saw as a failed Messiah.  How does Peter tell them to respond to this slanderous title?  He tells them to wear it with pride.  What happens if we gladly accept such identification, and then go about doing good deeds in our community?  We need not be ashamed of such a title, and in fact the name Christian can bring glory to God if people associate our identity as Christians with good deeds.  Soon, people will forget the fact that the name was originally meant to be demeaning, and instead praise God for the good things happening in the community because of people called “Christians”.  We share in Christ’s sufferings, even if it those sufferings are as simple as being slandered a little.  If that is the case, then we also share in the pattern of His life, which includes His resurrection and glorification.  God’s glory should rest on us, because of the way we pattern our life after Christ, just as it rested on the Israelites in the Old Testament.  It might not take the form of a cloud or a pillar of fire, but it should be just as visible. 

When we decide to do good, even when it brings suffering into our life, we are placing our trust in God.  While pleading with God for deliverance, David would write “into your hand I commit my spirit; you have redeemed me, O LORD, faithful God.” (Psalm 31:5)  Even as he turns his fate over to God, David knows that redemption is already a reality.  The epitome of suffering, the cross, has Jesus echoing David’s words, making the prayer from scripture His own.  “Then Jesus, calling out with a loud voice, said, “Father, into your hands I commit my spirit!” And having said this he breathed his last.” (Luke 23:46)  Even when standing at death’s door, Jesus entrusted His spirit to God.  That faith was rewarded three days later when God vindicated Him by raising Him from the dead.  Are we making the decision every day, whether in good times or bad, to pray that great prayer of faith, “Father, into your hands I commit my spirit!”?  

I Peter 4:1-11: enduring a difficult present, for a brighter future

One of the reasons for Peter’s writing was to help a group of Christians persevere while under pressure from the world.  By its very nature, perseverance deals with the future.  If we are going to succeed in following Christ in the future, we cannot keep one foot in the past.  To put it simply, Peter tells us that we have wasted enough time already. 

It begs the question, “How exactly have you wasted time?”  All of us are guilty of being less than productive, sometimes even counter-productive.  Maybe some of the things in our past were detrimental to our spirit, and even our body.  Keep them in the past Peter warns us.  Maybe some of the things were not bad in and of themselves, but they consumed our life so as to drain us of all productivity.  Keep them in the past, Peter tells us.  We can’t go back and change all of our mistakes; we can’t redo the decisions where we could have exercised more wisdom.  All we can do, and this is no little thing, is make sure that the past does not spill over into the present, and then the future. 

Why should we care so much about changing the way we live, especially if the way we are living now is easier, and more fun than the way God wants us to live?  Again, Peter returns to the theme of the future.  What seems like the easiest path, the most fun path now, almost always leads to a difficult present and a future full of regret.  Maybe it’s the one-night-stand that was a lot of fun at the time, but that leads to chronic health problems or an unplanned pregnancy, or the college drinking binges that lead to a lifetime of alcoholism, or the extravagant living beyond your means that has you trapped now in a life of poverty.  Christians were left with difficult choices in Peter’s day.  While many of their persecutors lived a luxurious and powerful life until death, Christians often died in poverty, sometimes even violently at the hands of their accusers.  They were referred to as haters of humanity, accused of political disloyalty, and even of cannibalism (because of popular misunderstandings concerning the Lord’s Supper).  I am sure that many Christians asked themselves why they continued to put themselves at risk.  Why not make life easier and give up on faith?  Peter tells them why: The hope of a better future.    

Because we do hope for a better future, we remain clear-headed, and hard-working in the present.  It’s not that our works save us, but rather they are a testimony to our belief that what God has said is true, and that what he wills for the future will come to pass.  Peter roots this duty of the Christian in a devout and sincere prayer life.  Why?  Because in the words of Peter H. Davids,  “proper prayer is not an “opiate” or escape, but rather a function of clear vision and a seeking of even clearer vision from God.”  Prayer is the conduit through which we are reminded of God’s vision for the world.  Because of this we should be asking the question, “how much do we spend listening when we pray?”  Before we can speak and serve out of love as Peter instructs us, we must listen for God’s Spirit in prayer.  One of the ways we speak and serve in love is by showing hospitality.  Hospitality is mentioned explicitly five times in the NT (Romans 12:13; I Timothy 3:2; Titus 1:8; Hebrews 13:2; I Peter 4:9).  Furthermore, it was used as a qualification for eldership, and for being enrolled as a widow in the Pastoral Epistles.  In other words, hospitality was an expectation, not an option for a Christian.  Notice Peter does not say “when the preacher speaks”, or “when the deacon serves”.  He casts the net broadly in terms of Christian proclamation and service, stating that “whoever speaks” and “whoever serves”, should do so in accordance with God’s will, and by God’s strength.  We are stewards of the gifts that we have received through the Spirit, to speak and to serve as Christ would serve.  We will be judged not by what gifts we have, but by how we use those gifts to transform the world around us.  

I Peter 3:18-22: Noah's wasn't the only ark

In the previous post, we saw how even in the midst of suffering, we are to “apologize”, or give a defense of our faith.  The reason for this is simple: Jesus Christ did the same thing.  Peter uses some very familiar stories to help us understand what it looks like when we find shelter in God’s grace during difficult times.  Specifically, he uses the story of the ark.  The story of Noah is parallel to the situation of the recipients of Peter’s letter.  They, like Noah and his family, are an oppressed minority.  The reason for the oppression they face is their faith in God, and the trust they have placed in God, that His word is true.  They are waiting for something that has not happened yet, and the waiting is taking its toll.

Consider the parallels between Noah, and the early Christian recipients of I Peter.  Notice the similarities between the ark, the flood, and the baptism that we receive when we begin our journey as Christians. 

-          God provided an ark so that Noah’s family might pass through the destructive waters safely. Similarly, God works through baptism, leading us safely by His grace through death, and out the other side, where we enter into the life promised us in Christ. 

-          We pass through the waters of baptism, of judgment, just as the ark passed through the waters of the flood. We arise unscathed, just as those in the ark came through the waters unscathed.

How exactly does this happen?  Oh, we understand roughly what it would have looked like for Noah to build a great big ark.  We can imagine his family being tossed about inside by the waves of the flood.  We can wonder how nerve-racking it would have been to hear rain on the roof, for forty straight days!  As incredible as the story is, we can envision it in some way, but what about baptism?  What does getting physically wet have to do with our spiritual lives?  It’s hard to comprehend how God’s grace is made manifest in a very physical act. 

The waters of baptism are not magical, any more than the ark was magical.  Sometimes because it’s easier to imagine, we forget about exactly how ridiculous the ark was at the time.  Picture it, Noah and his family out there day after day, week after week, month after month, building a huge boat nowhere close to water, when it had never even rained!!  Despite all the work that Noah put in, the ark was still a result of God’s grace.  He told Noah about the flood, and because Noah believed him, he acted accordingly.  Similarly, God tells us about the coming judgment.  We might think we are doing something by wading into that baptismal pool, but our physical acts of obedience are made possible only in light of the truth revealed to us by God.  Like Noah, we believe that what God tells us about the future is true.  The real question is, like Noah, do we trust God’s word enough to find shelter in His grace?   

I Peter 3:8-17: When's the last time you "apologized"?

If you’re anything like me, apologizing is one of the hardest things to do.  That mostly has to do with the fact that in apologizing, we are admitting that on some level, in some way, we bear guilt or responsibility for whatever has gone wrong.  However, Peter would tell us that apologizing is not just something we do when we are wrong.  Before we get to that however, a quick note on the suffering that is connected to the “apologizing” Peter encourages us to do. 

 

Peter uses part of a text from the Old Testament, to help focus the minds of his readers on the importance of enduring as a righteous people before God.  In Psalm 34, sandwiched in between an invitation to “taste and see that the Lord is good” and the ending where it speaks of the redemption the righteous find in God, there is a section that heavily implies that life will not always be a bed of roses for those who seek to do the right thing.  “Many are the afflictions of the righteous, but the Lord delivers him out of them all.”  That would have been one of the next verses of that psalm had Peter continued quoting it.  Why didn’t Peter just quote it then?  Like any good teacher, I think Peter recognizes the value of helping his readers reach the answer on their own, so he leads them partially to it, and then hopes that in their mind they will hear the rest of the psalm.  It’s an old technique referred to as metalepsis, whereby an author, in our case Peter, quotes the beginning of a passage, hoping that the reader or listener will be brought to a remembrance of the entire thing.  If I said to you, “four-score and seven years ago”, what would you think of?  First of all, you would probably continue to envision the Gettsyburg address, and in your mind continue by thinking “our fathers brought forth on this continent a new nation.”  By just saying a few words, your mind has been flooded with not just all the ideas in Lincoln’s speech, but you also might have imagined the tall, slender figure of our sixteenth President, adorned with a stove-pipe hat, addressing the crowd gathered for the commemoration of the cemetery on that famous battlefield. 

Just a simple quote from a famous speech can send our mind into a state of deep reflection about our past as a nation.  Likewise, for people of faith a short quotation from a well-known psalm can invoke all the promises and reassurances that psalm has to offer.  The suffering endured because of righteousness is troubling, but not expected.  And because God expects it, He has made plans to deliver those who endure it.       

That’s why Peter tells us that we should always be ready to make a defense, or to explain the hope that is in us.  The Greek term for defense is apologia, which is the word from which our words apologetics and apology come.   This is a different type of apology than the kind we are used to though.  For too long, Christians have been doing the wrong type of apologizing.  We have presented ourselves with hat in hand to society, apologizing for the absolute truth of our claims.  We have apologized for the high moral standards that we strive to attain, and that we challenge others to pursue.  We even apologize for a God who dares to not conform Himself to what society feels He should be.  I think if we look back to our own history as a people of faith, we will find examples of apologies that are altogether different from the ones we have been offering.  They are more in line with what Peter encourages here in this passage, not awkward admissions of guilt or regret for daring to proclaim the truth about a God that makes society uncomfortable.  But rather, a passionate, and yet at the same time compassionate, defense of the truth concerning who God is.  One example from the past of such a defense is that of Apollonius. Apollonius’ was a Roman citizen whose talent had caused him to rise to the rank of senator.  He was accused of being a Christian before the Pretorian Prefect Perennius.  In his trial in front of the senate, instead of defending himself against the charges, he acknowledged them, and began an impassioned defense of the nature of the Christian faith.  As a result of his acknowledgement, Apollonius was condemned to death based on the law established by the Emperor Trajan.  He endured two trials, one by the Pretorian Prefect, and the other by a group of senators and jurists.  The whole trial was conducted in a very courteous manner.  The only interruptions were pleas by Apollonius’ colleagues to temper his remarks, as they were sealing his fate.  He was “digging his own grave” with his unapologetic apologia, but that made no difference to him however; for he was not afraid to die.  According to Apollonius, "there is waiting for me something better: eternal life, given to the person who has lived well on earth."  There is disagreement among the sources as to the exact nature of his death.  Some say that Apollonius died after having his legs crushed, others say he was decapitated.  Though we aren’t sure exactly how he died, we do know how he lived.  What a marvelous life it was. 

How many of us would have acted as Apollonius did?  My guess is that many of us would have done a different type of apologizing.  But here’s the thing, does the renouncing of our faith make the truth of who God is any less true?  I think Apollonius stood there and refused to recant because he believed with all his heart that Jesus was who he claimed to be.  I think he knew that suffering and death will come to us all, and if it’s going to come, better to endure it while maintaining our confession, that Jesus Christ is indeed Lord.  In the words of Peter, “it is better to suffer for doing good, if that should be God's will, than for doing evil.”

I Peter 3:1-7: faith in God=faithfulness to your wife

It is important when we come to the Bible that we realize that it is written in a certain context.  Does that mean that we can’t relate to it today?  Absolutely not!  What it does mean is that in order to properly understand what the Bible is telling us, we have to properly understand what it told its first readers.  This issue of context is seldom more critical than when dealing with sociological issues, especially those relating to gender.  To prove my point, I’d like to share with you a literary exert from the era when I Peter was written, that may help shed some light on how women were viewed in that culture:

“How can one reach agreement with a woman?’ ‘By recognizing,’ he replied, ‘that the female sex is bold, positively active for something which it desires, easily liable to change its mind because of poor reasoning powers, and of naturally weak constitution.  It is necessary to have dealings with them in a sound way, avoiding provocation which may lead to a quarrel.  Life prospers when the helmsman knows the goal to which he must make the passage.  Life is completely steered by invocation of God.” – Letter of Aristeas

I would agree that when dealing with women, it is sound advice to avoid provocation which may lead to a quarrel.  That is a tidbit of advice that is not unique to the above passage, and that stands the test of time.  Likewise, we would agree that life is completely steered by invocation of God.  However, we would disagree that women have poor reasoning powers.  The idea that women are inferior intellectually is a relic of a bygone era.  Too many of us have received our education from women to argue that they are in any way intellectually inferior.  As the percentage of those obtaining a higher education continues to tilt in favor of females, if anything the empirical evidence would argue the exact opposite.  But I digress…  

So if I Peter was written in an era whose view of women differs starkly from our own, what if anything can we learn from it regarding the marriage relationship?  Despite its “dated”, and some would say “antiquated” nature, there are some eternal truths that emanate from the text. 

First of all, we should not judge a book by its cover, or in this instance, a woman by her outward appearance.  How desperately do our little girls, our teenager girls, and our young women need to hear this?  In a society that judges us largely by our outward appearance, how important is it for us as a church to send a message to our young women, and young men, that clothes and physical beauty are far less important than what is in their hearts.  Only a little more than ten years removed from high school, I can tell you that the things I remember most about my classmates have nothing to do with their clothes, or even with their appearance.  Believe it or not, when looking at some of the photos from my reunion last year, there were some attractive girls from my class that I had forgotten existed.  My memory of my classmates from so many years ago is centered on the relationship I had with each one of them.  It focuses on shared experience, not what they wore, what they drove, or how they looked.  If the church doesn’t advocate for the surpassing value of judging others by their heart, and the content of their character, who will?

Second, we learn that wives should be honored and protected.  The very things that make them the weaker vessel physically are also the very things that make them a blessing to society, and a perfect match for their husbands.  I know it’s a faux pas to speak in terms of weakness and strength, especially when referring to how the genders relate to one another, but what we see related in I Peter is just one side of the coin.  Generally speaking, women might not be able to bench as much or run as fast as men, but that does not mean they don’t make a vital contribution every bit as important as men.  Why do you think Peter insists on husbands honoring and protecting them?      

Third, we are taught that women are co-heirs, or equals with men spiritually.  Women are not second-class Christians.  Furthermore, by giving them moral instructions motivated by a missionary outlook, Peter shows that they have a unique role to play in the church’s evangelistic efforts.  Anyone who has spent much time around a church knows that women do a large percentage of the work.  They not only function in the roles that have traditionally been ascribed to women, but they teach, preach, and witness to the love of Christ in ways seldom recognized, but always impactful.   

Finally, we learn that for husbands, our ability or inability to honor our wives will directly impact God’s willingness to hear our prayers.  We cannot display ingratitude by neglecting, dishonoring, or God-forbid abusing the wives that God has blessed us with, and then expect beneficial answers to our prayers.  Faith is not just mental assent to a certain belief, it is living our lives in such a way that we show to others the truth of what we believe.  If we can’t manifest faithfulness in our homes, what chance do we have of manifesting it in the world?

May my faith, and my gratitude to God, be displayed for all to see in the way that I honor the wife God has blessed me with.  

I Peter 2:13-25: tracing the pattern of Christ

If you’re reading this, then you’re old enough to have realized that in life we often have to do things we don’t like.  We often have to work with, or associate with people we don’t like.  What do we do as people of faith when life’s circumstances remind us of this realization?  Peter tells us that as Christians, we should be motivated to submit “for the sake of the Lord”, even if the person they are submitting to is found to be offensive.  We live in a time when not only the people we must submit to, but also the very idea of submission itself is less than appealing.  All our emphasis on personal liberties and being an individual has taken us to a place where we chafe at the idea of submitting to anyone.  And yet, submit we must.  We submit when we see those blue lights come on in our rear-view mirror, when we mail in that check to the IRS, or when the boss calls to tell us he needs us to come in to work.  If submission is a reality that we can’t escape, maybe we should consider not whether to submit, but how we submit.  It’s not that we will suddenly be happy about that speeding ticket, or rejoice as we pay our taxes, or love the idea of going into work.  However, perhaps we can endure all those things, and even grow to the point that we can do them with a positive attitude, if we think of them not as submitting to a police officer, or the government, or our boss, but if we see them as submitting to Jesus. 

Peter desperately wants us to understand that it’s how we respond in those less than enjoyable moments that serve as the greatest witness to our faith, or our lack thereof.  Detractors of the Christian faith are all around us, and our conduct can become either a testimony to our faith, or evidence that Christians are not all that different from anyone else.  Good deeds silence those who reject the gospel, and undercut their arguments against it.  I’m reminded of a story I read not too long ago about an atheist in Texas.  This man was suing to have all Christian symbols removed from the county courthouse.  He did not want to see a nativity scene at Christmas, and if going to court was what it took to remove it, so be it.  Before too long however, the man would not be seeing anything, including a nativity scene.  For some time the man had been suffering from a condition that would eventually leave him blind.  While some Christians might see this as divine justice (and sadly some of those Christians are the ones with the largest microphones), a group of Christians in this Texas town chose not to delight in the man’s plight, but rather to help him as Jesus had instructed them.  Soon the man received a check from local Christians to help cover his medical expenses. 

I’m not sure if those Christians had spent a lot of time reading I Peter, but I think Peter would have been very proud to see how they reacted toward one who was supposed to be their “enemy”.  Peter is trying to tell us that rather than using our freedom for ourselves, or to do evil, we should use it to become servants of God.  That group of Christians became servants of God by helping an atheist pay his medical bills, because everyone is made in the image of God, even atheists.    In a time where there is an emphasis on personal liberty, and on our “rights”, we should be asking the question, what do we do with our liberty?  How do we use our rights not to bless ourselves, but to bless others?  Do we respect everyone, from the top of our social ladder all the way down to the bottom?  According to Peter, we should show as much deference to every human being, as we do to the most powerful among us.  He tells us to honor the emperor, which the Roman government would have been glad to hear.  But he also says honor everyone.  Rather than dragging the emperor down, and risking sounding treasonous, Peter instead elevates the rest of humanity.  Rather than viewing society as a ladder, the apostle insists that we should see it as an even plane where everyone is honored and respected, and God alone is feared and worshiped. 

How does that happen?  It sound great, but how can we control our emotions, keep our pride in check, and treat every person with the dignity they deserve?  The passage points to the fact that the answer lies in following the one who did it the best, who did it perfectly, Jesus Christ.  When the verse refers to Jesus as our example, it uses the Greek word hypogrammos, the word for a pattern that a child would trace.  So, in patterning our life after Jesus, we learn to suffer for others because Christ suffered for us.  In following Jesus we come to an understanding that just like him, we do not receive the crown of glory without the crown of thorns.   Martin Hengel would say, “’Following’ means in the first place unconditional sharing of the master’s destiny, which does not stop even at deprivation and suffering in the train of the master, and is possible only on the basis of complete trust on the part of the person who ‘follows’; he has placed his destiny and his future in his master’s hands.”  That is exactly what Peter encourages us to do, to believe that we share in the destiny of our master.  While that may include suffering for a time, it ultimately leads to that far richer fate of eternal life in the presence of God.  

I Peter 2:1-12: When God changes our name

Peter understood something about being human.  He understood that before we can pursue God, and the vocation that God has given us, we must first decide to turn our back on our old life, on our old way of thinking.  That’s why he instructs his readers to “put away”, or some translations might say “put off”, things like malice, deceit, and slander.  It’s the same verb used in the Greek for the taking off of one’s clothes, perhaps because they are dirty.  Just as we take off our dirty clothes to put on clean ones, so we must also take off our old sinful way of living, before attempting to live a Godly life.  Imagine how foolish we would look if we kept putting on clean clothes, but never took off our dirty ones.  My guess is the fact that the new clothes were clean wouldn’t make much of a difference due to the stench of the old ones.   While in some places, the imagery of milk is used to refer to something basic, here the emphasis isn’t on the milk, but on the longing.  We must have a desire, a longing to be clean, before we will be moved to take off those old rags of sin and doubt.  What does it mean to long?  The psalmist would compare a longing for God, to a deer that pants for flowing streams:  “As a deer pants for flowing streams, so pants my soul for you, O God.” (Psalm 42:1)  I remember that feeling when I was a runner in high school.  The longer we ran, the harder we pushed ourselves, the more we longed for water, for pure refreshment.   In another psalm, the author would state “my soul longs, yes, faints for the courts of the Lord; my heart and flesh sing for joy to the living God.” (Psalm 84:2)  It is clear that if we are truly exerting ourselves as people of faith, then we will long for the spiritual nourishment that only God can provide. 

In the middle section of this passage, a number of Old Testament passages are quoted, as the author lays out two possibilities for his audience.  He describes our response to Jesus as either tripping, or as building.  Some people trip, rejecting Jesus for various reasons.  However, God overrules their rejection by taking the object, or in this case the person, whom they scorn, and making him the foundation of a new world.  That’s where that Old Testament quotation comes in, “the stone that the builders rejected has become the cornerstone.” (Psalm 118:22)  The author didn’t have to try hard to make the connection between Jesus and this passage, as Jesus actually makes it himself in Matthew 21:42; Mark 12:10; Luke 20:17.  Also, Peter uses it in Acts 4:11 when he and John are standing before the council, he states that “this Jesus is the stone that was rejected by you, the builders, which has become the cornerstone.”  A quotation from Isaiah is also used, that describes Jesus as “a stone of stumbling, and a rock of offense.” (Isaiah 8:14)  One of the words used to describe this rejection of Jesus is the Greek word from which we get our word “scandal”.  Jesus was indeed a scandal in his day, just as he continues to be in our day, at least when the implications of his life, death, and resurrection are properly understood.    A crucified Messiah is indeed a tough pill to swallow; Paul says as much in Galatians, that the cross as an instrument of shame and defeat is hard for some people to overcome.  But for those who trust in God, it need not be a stumbling block.  You see, not everyone trips over Jesus.  While some might trip over a stone like Jesus, others choose to build with him.  We see in verse 4 that though Jesus was rejected by men, he is precious and chosen in the sight of God.  “Chosen” or “elect” is the same word used to describe us in the very first verse of I Peter.  When we build with Jesus, we become the new temple.  In John 2, Jesus talks about how he will replace the temple as the place where people encounter God.  What if as followers of Christ, we can serve that same purpose, and through our love for those around us serve as a place where people encounter God? 

That is indeed our purpose as a type of new Israel.  It’s why Peter refers to us as a “chosen race”, “royal priesthood”, “a holy nation”, and “a people for his own possession”.   These are all titles that belong to Israel.  “Royal priesthood” and “holy nation” are direct quotes from Exodus 19:6.  Peter is in essence saying, now they also belong to the Christian community, the church.   We proclaim God’s goodness, in calling us out of the darkness and into the light.  We even hear echoes of the story of Hosea and Gomer’s children from Hosea.  In the story, Hosea’s wife Gomer has children with another man, and they are named “she has not received mercy”, and “not my people”.  They are odd, even damaging names for children, unless you are looking to prove a point.  However, in a move that illustrates God’s mercifulness towards us, Hosea adopts the children, naming them “she has received mercy”, and “my people”.   In the Hebrew, all you have to do is drop the negative component of the names, a simple “Lo-“, to go from merciless to merciful, to go from “not my people” to “my people”.   Isn’t that what God does for us?  In his mercy and grace, God drops the negative component of our names.  The “nos” and the “nots” that defined us not as who we were, but who we weren’t.   God gives us a way of defining ourselves not by our failures, but by our purpose.  I think Peter would join us in giving thanks for a God who rather than looking back at our failures, looks ahead to the purpose that he has for us.     

I Peter 1:13-25: holiness, the forgotten vocation

Peter writes to this group of Christians under fire for a reason.  One of the things he wants to do is remind them of why they are being persecuted.  He is reminding them that their vocation is of the utmost importance, which explains why it has drawn so much fire from the world.  That vocation is nothing less than holiness. 

If they are going to successfully answer God’s call for them to live holy lives, they must first be prepared.  The word usually translated as “prepare” at the beginning of this passage literally means “gird”.  It’s a word which implies impending action, as to gird up literally meant to gather in your cloak or long garment, and tie it up in preparation for running, fighting, or other strenuous work.  When simply walking, sitting, or at leisure, the garment was allowed to remain long.  The exhortation to “gird up” invokes images of Israel, specifically their preparation to leave Egypt during the Exodus.  During the one season I played basketball in high school, on the junior varsity team, I was rarely required to “gird myself” for action.  My warm-up almost always stayed on, and I seldom saw the court.  Peter is telling us here that when it comes to faith, there are no “bench-warmers”, we all must be ready to go into the game.

What is the game exactly you may be wondering?  Too often, holiness is described as abstaining from certain things.  While it is true that part of our calling to be holy requires us to forego many of the things the world deems acceptable, and even good, holiness is more than abstention.  Holiness is also, and I would argue primarily, concerted action on behalf of God.  In both the Old and New Testaments, imitation of God is the standard of our ethics.   Placing our hope totally in Jesus Christ means we invest fully in his service, and in the spread of the gospel.  How do we accomplish that?  To put it simply, we accomplish it through action, through the loving service of our neighbor that we see so powerfully manifested in the life of Jesus himself.  In the words of Clement of Rome, “seeing then that we are the portion of one who is holy, let us do all the deeds of sanctification.”   

In order to perform those “deeds of sanctification” that Clement refers to, God gives us great freedom.  Not a freedom that is an escape from responsibility, but one that liberates us from the restricting power of sin and death.  It was freedom that came at great price, the blood of Jesus, which means that we should not think we can waste the gift that God has given us without consequence.   Our relationship with God, namely his being our Father, should not lead us to believe that he is partial, and that he will refrain from judging us fairly.  In fact, his punishment is often motivated by love, and a desire to see us grow into the task he has set before us.  I remember back in high school when I brought home the worst grade I ever made on a report card, a “D” in Algebra II.  For the entire six weeks that followed, I was not allowed to watch television.  Why was it that my parents punished me?  Was it because they hated me?  Far from it, it was because they knew I was capable of doing much better than a “D”.  The last thing they wanted was to see me squander my talent because of laziness, or a lack of desire to do my best.   We should not think that our relationship with God will cause him to compromise his sense of justice, and righteousness.  If we truly know God, we know that justice and impartiality is part of who God is.  

It was the justice of God that required that he purchase our redemption, rather than simply granting it.  It was the costliest transaction in history, as our redemption led his only Son to be hung on a cross.  In his allusion to the Passover lamb, Peter refers simultaneously to Christ, as well as to our identity as the people of God, Israel.   The blood of Christ does more than cleanse us from sin, it cleanses our consciences (Hebrews 9:14); gives us bold access to the Father (Hebrews 10:19); and rescues us from a sinful way of life.  In other words, it does not just do away with the negative consequences; it adds positive aspects as well.  Reinforcing the point made earlier, it does not just aid the aspect of holiness that requires us to abstain from evil, but it also empowers us to actively participate in the positive side of holiness, to take part in the “deeds of sanctification”.  This has been God’s plan all along.  The phrase “chosen in advance”, points to the fact that God did not just predict these events, but rather planned them from the beginning.   Jesus is the revelation of God for us, and also the one through whom we believe.  Indeed, our relationship with God is through Christ, because we see done in Christ what will ultimately be done in us.  Jesus resurrection gives us hope that God can and will also raise us, and vindicate us no matter what the world does to us as we live out our lives in holiness. 

In this passage, Peter is reminding them that they are saved for a purpose.  How many of us think only of salvation, and not about why we are saved?  Our salvation is not about avoiding death, or hell, it’s about living life, and embracing a relationship with God.  I am reminded of Lieutenant Dan in the movie Forest Gump.   Lieutenant Dan saw his purpose in life as being to die in combat, just as several prior generations of men in his family had done.  When Forest saves him from that death he so desired, his world is shaken to the core.  He was alive, but for a long time he refused to live.  How many of us have been spared death, but have yet to embrace life?  What does it mean to embrace life you may ask?  In essence, embracing life is to order our behavior according to God’s principles.  God’s word reveals imperishable truth, namely the command for us to love one another.  There is power in that love, a power that unleashes in us eternal life.   We are after all, not now the product of corruptible seed, but the incorruptible word of God, which creates, and recreates (see Genesis, John, etc.).   Peter longs for his audience, and for us, to realize that our faith should extend to every part of who we are.  Christ’s redemption of our souls, God’s plan for our life, is as all-encompassing as the love which made that plan possible in the first place. 

I Peter 1:1-12: a message of hope from the hopeless

After countless blogs on the gospel of Mark, I have transitioned to I Peter.  The reasoning behind the decision is simple.   When we read I Peter, we are reading the testimony of the same man we saw bumbling his way through the gospel of Mark.  Who was Peter?

-          He was one of the first ones called to be a follower of Jesus Christ.  He was called with his brother Andrew.  He had been there from the beginning.

-          He had accompanied Jesus throughout his ministry, and had heard his teaching on multiple occasions

-          He had also experienced his share of setbacks, disappointments, and even failures.

In many ways Peter is like us.  Things don’t always go the way he wants.  Sometimes he is his own worst enemy.  And yet, what we’ll see from this letter is quite simple.  Peter has changed.  The resurrection has prompted Peter to respond in ways we would have thought unimaginable while reading Mark.  He still isn’t perfect, but when we listen closely we can hear the words of Christ in Peter’s writing, and we can see how his entire outlook has been radically altered because of the power of the Holy Spirit working in his life.

So with all this in mind, we sit up and take notice when Peter says that we are “born again to a living hope”.  We talked about how Peter had things in his past, things he wished he could undo, or redo.  I can’t help but wonder if as he writes this phrase, he doesn’t think of those low-points in his life- the boasting, the violence, the denial.  If anyone understood the power of being born again, of having a living hope, it was Peter.   There is no doubt that he delighted in this phrase, “he has caused us to be born again to a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead.”  That implies more than a fresh start, it implies a different start.  Becoming a Christian isn’t about getting a mulligan.  It’s not a second chance to get things right, it’s coming to the understanding that we can’t get things right on our own.  In John 3 Jesus tells Nicodemus that we must be born again/from above.  For whatever reason, the translators usually chose either “born again” or “from above”, subjecting the alternative to the footnotes.  However, I don’t think Jesus was using the word because of its ambiguity, but because of the dual meaning inherent in the word itself.  We can’t only be born again, because then we would be destined to re-live our life in the same limited way we did the first go around.  Similarly, we can’t be born just “from above”, because that fails to reckon with our need for renewal. 

So what does this look like in Peter’s life?  Peter didn’t like it in Mark’s gospel, when Jesus mentioned the Messiah suffering.  Peter’s concept of the Messiah probably included Jesus riding a large war horse, not a donkey; it involved him sitting on a throne, not hanging on a cross.  And yet here we read of Peter describing an eternal kingdom well worth the enduring of temporary suffering, and momentary trials.  The inheritance of the Christian who perseveres is incorruptible, in that it will not rot or decay.  It is undefiled, in that it is morally and religiously pure, not requiring us to compromise our morals in order to obtain it.  And it is unfading, in that its beauty doesn’t slowly slip away like that of a flower.        

It would seem from reading this letter that Peter has come to realize the value of trusting in what we cannot see.  I am reminded from a scene in Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade, where Indiana comes to a pivotal point in his quest to find and rescue his father.  Before him stands a large chasm, a chasm that can be traversed only by a narrow foot-bridge.  The problem is, the footbridge is invisible.  Motivated by his love for his father, Indiana takes what is literally a step of faith.  Just when it appears he will fall to his death deep into the dark void, his foot lands upon the unseen ledge.  After walking across, he turns and throws dirt on the bridge, a visual reminder that though unseen, the bridge is in fact there.   It’s a move we all have to make in our faith.  It’s a move we see Peter making in the gospel of Mark, thus all his fumbling around.  He hears Jesus echo those famous words, “where your treasure is, there your heart will be also”, and over time the meaning of them slowly sinks in.  Finally, as we read the words of his epistle, we see that though he is still not perfect, he has shifted the location of his treasure, away from a worldly way of thinking, and toward a kingdom of God way of thinking. 

It’s a shift we are all called to make, indeed it’s a shift Peter is exhorting the troubled recipients of his letter to remain commited to.  It’s not that Peter has given up on the idea of a crown of glory, it’s just he’s come to embrace the paradox that we do not, that we cannot receive the crown of glory, without the crown of thorns.   

Mark 16:1-8: the end that is still being written

How do we tell the Easter story, the story of Jesus’ resurrection?  The varied ways of telling the “greatest story ever told” are evident by the contrasting ways that the gospel writers tell us of the same event.  In Matthew, we read of an earthquake, terrified guards, and Jesus meeting the women after they leave the tomb.  In Luke, Peter is shown running to the tomb, disciples encounter Jesus on the road to Emmaus, and then that same Jesus appears to a larger gathering of disciples.  When we read John’s gospel, we see a Thomas full of doubt, and Jesus meeting with the disciple by the seashore.  We place Mark’s gospel next to all of these, and we discover that we aren’t even sure where the gospel in fact ends.  The only common thread in all these various accounts is the visiting of the tomb by the women.    

Despite its brevity when compared to the other gospels, Mark’s resurrection story does teach us some important things- not only about Jesus, but about our faith as well.  First of all, the women who visit the tomb are seeking the crucified Jesus, rather than the resurrected Lord.  This is more than understandable, as they were there for Jesus crucifixion.  These three women all saw the death of Jesus (Mark 15:40), and the two Mary’s were there for Jesus burial (Mark 15:47).  Despite their confidence in what they have witnessed the young man, who is most assuredly an angel, instructs them that they are looking for Jesus in the wrong place.   His statement that Jesus “was crucified” has the ring of a Christian confession, as the crucifixion is now in the past.  More than that, the testimony continues beyond Jesus recently endured crucifixion, to state that “he has been raised.”  Jesus death been overcome by life, by resurrection, and it is God who has accomplished this, as is made clear by the fact that “has been raised” is cast in the passive. 

Where do we seek Jesus?  As important as the crucifixion is for us, for our redemption, it is firmly in the past.  The cross is important, even vital to our spiritual lives, but the power it possesses to shape us comes not from Jesus death, but from His resurrection.       

Of course, that power is only relevant if we believe the word about Jesus that we hear.  In the words of the author of Hebrews, “faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen.” (Hebrews 11:1)  To that end, there is no dispute that the tomb was empty.  If Jesus’ body had remained in the tomb, stating that fact would have been the easiest and most logical way to undercut the power of the Christian message.  After all, as Paul would tell the Corinthians, “if Christ has not been raised, then our preaching is in vain and your faith is in vain.” (I Corinthians 15:14)  In other words, if Christianity’s early opponents could discredit the resurrection, they would have all but discredited the entire faith.   And yet, with that being the case, in all the early Jewish polemic against Christianity, the empty tomb is never disputed, nor is Jesus’ body produced. 

The real thrust behind the news of Jesus resurrection is not just the indisputable fact that the tomb was empty.  The power lays in the fact that Jesus’ followers saw in this action, in Jesus’ resurrection, a fulfillment of what God had promised to do all along.  The prophet Hosea would foretell the event centuries earlier, when he said: “After two days he will revive us; on the third day he will raise us up, that we may live before him.” (Hosea 6:2)  Jesus himself hints at an interpretive lens through which we should we view both the crucifixion and the resurrection, when he says as he hangs on the cross, “my God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”  By quoting the first verse of Psalm 22, a psalm that begins with such anguish and pain, he is pointing us forward to the end of the psalm, to an ending characterized by renewal, and even resurrection.    

Like the women, we are left with an empty tomb.  The question is, what will we do with it?  Will we believe that word of revelation that interprets the empty tomb, and infuses it with meaning? 

Embracing that word of revelation is more than a mental or intellectual exercise.  The women are told to go and tell the disciples and Peter, the news of the resurrection.  In short, they are to take the news to those who need to hear it the most.  Those who abandoned and even denied Jesus are rehabilitated.  The lack of closure in the gospel is intentional and draws us into the story, giving us the task of interpreting the rest of what has, and indeed what will happen.  In essence, the gospel tasks us with writing an end to the story through our own faithfulness.  D. English would write that “our first century forebears in the faith were not naturally superior (or inferior) to us.  Neither did faith and discipleship come any easier for them.  Yet despite all, they went on believing and laid the foundation for us.”  The question is, like them, will we embrace faith and discipleship in spite of the cost?  Will we build on the foundation laid by them, a foundation grounded in the blood of Jesus Christ, and the power of His resurrection?

Mark 15:33-47: the cross as prophecy and purpose

It’s impossible to add to the story of love written by Jesus upon the cross.  All we can do as mere mortals is to use that story to encourage one another.   Part of the encouragement comes in recognizing the role of the cross in God’s plan.  By discerning the role of the cross in salvation history, we can come to a proper understanding of its ability to shape our lives as disciples of Jesus. 

The first thing to note is that Jesus’ suffers in a scriptural way, to fulfill a scriptural purpose.  In other words, Jesus’ suffering is not something we read of for the first time in the gospels, in fact it is foretold in scripture long before Jesus was born in Bethlehem.  Psalm 22, a rich text rooted in Jewish scripture, is quoted five times in the Passion narrative of Jesus.   We see it as prophecy when v. 18, “they divide my garments among them, and for my clothing they cast lots”, is fulfilled in Mark 15:24:

“And they crucified him and divided his garments among them, casting lots for them, to decide what each should take.”

And again when v. 7, “All who see me mock me; they make mouths at me; they wag their heads”, is fulfilled in Mark 15:29-30:

“And those who passed by derided him, wagging their heads and saying, “Aha! You who would destroy the temple and rebuild it in three days, save yourself, and come down from the cross!”

We also see Psalm 22 cast as prayer, when Jesus uses the language of Jewish faith to exclaim in Mark 15:34 “Eloi, Eloi, lema sabachthani?” which means, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”

We see our Lord not only fulfilling the prophecy of scripture, but also using scripture to pray.  In doing so, Jesus teaches us something very real about genuine faith.  In the words of Eduard Schweizer, “it is a radical expression of devotion to God which endures in every adverse experience- a devotion which continues to claim God as ‘my’ God and will not let him go although he can be experienced only as the Absent One who has forsaken the petitioner.” 

Jesus suffers in a scriptural way, to fulfill a scriptural purpose, which is no less than the reconciliation of all humanity to God.  We see this symbolized in a few ways, the first of which is the rending of the veil in the temple.  The only other time when the word “rent” is used in the gospel of Mark, describing something being torn open, is in 1:10 at Jesus’ baptism.  There the heavens are “rent”, the Holy Spirit descends in the form of a dove, and the Father speaks words of affirmation.  Just as the heavens were rent at his baptism, now the curtain in the Holy of Holies is rent at his death, rent from the top to the bottom, symbolizing not only divine initiative, but a renewed access to God through the atoning death of Jesus Christ.   In Jesus’ baptism the Holy Spirit descends to earth and takes on flesh in the person of Jesus Christ.  In Jesus’ death, the Holy Spirit, God’s abiding presence leaves the temple, and is now capable of taking up residence in the human heart.  The other way we see this purpose symbolized, or announced, is through the proclamation of the centurion.  It is the centurion in charge of Jesus’ execution that proclaims him to be the Son of God.  Way back in the very first verse of the gospel, 1:1, Mark began with this declaration,” the beginning of the gospel of Jesus Christ, the Son of God.”   Now, on the cross, and through his sacrificial death, Jesus’ true identity is revealed to the world.  Not only is it revealed, but it is revealed through the lips of a Roman centurion, a soldier of the emperor who competes with Jesus for the world’s worship and adoration.  Imagine what it would mean for a Roman Christian to see in the story of the gospel, that even a soldier of Rome could come to knowledge of who Jesus is, and make the good confession that he is the Son of God.  We should not let the cross obscure our ability to recognize Jesus as the Son of God.  Jesus reigns, not despite his crucifixion, but because of it.  Perhaps Venatius Fortunatus put it best in his Passion Hymn when he declared, “God has reigned from a tree.” 

I probably haven’t told you anything you didn’t know, in pointing out that Jesus crucifixion was the fulfillment of prophecy found in scripture.  You probably also knew that Jesus crucifixion was for the purpose of our redemption.  While I haven’t told you anything new, I hope that I can at least encourage you to think about it in a new way.  You see, as I pointed out in the last blog post, the cross is as much about formation as it is forgiveness.  God forgives us of our past, because he has plans for our future, big plans.  Sadly though, the cross too often moves us to gratitude…but not discipleship.  As Thomas a Kempis would say in his book The Imitation of Christ, “Jesus hath now many lovers of his heavenly kingdom, but few bearers of his cross.”  Or, in words perhaps a little more relatable to our generation, Ben Witherington III would simply observe that, “some are more willing to wear the cross than bear the cross.”  We cannot love what the cross represents, while at the same time shying away from what it requires of us.  Don’t just give thanks for Jesus’ cross, take up your own.   

Mark 15:16-32: the cross as forgiveness and formation

It might be the best known story in the world and because of that, it is possible to become desensitized to the meaning of Jesus crucifixion.  Obviously, as Christians we see it as the turning point in the war God wages for our souls.  Jesus’ actions speak for themselves.  His cross defines the character of God, and the hope of humanity.  However, in addition to asking what the cross does for us, perhaps we should also ask how it instructs us.  Maybe, just maybe, the cross is as much about formation as it is about forgiveness. 

The cross illustrates for Christians the reality that through defeat we achieve victory.  The soldiers mock Jesus because he seems to be a defeated man.   Jesus had earlier predicted that they would see him at the right hand of God, by quoting the first verse of Psalm 110: “The Lord says to my Lord: Sit at my right hand, until I make your enemies your footstool”, but to human eyes things don’t seem to be going well.  How can the road to heavenly exaltation run through the suffering and death of the cross?  Even if we consider the second verse of the psalm, “The Lord sends forth from Zion your mighty scepter.  Rule in the midst of your enemies!” we rightfully ask ourselves, how can the beaten and bloodied Jesus be seen as ruling in any meaningful sense?   Little did they know that even in his weakness, Jesus is ruling in the midst of his enemies.  They beat Jesus with a reed, meant to symbolize a scepter, in an effort to mock his kingship.  And yet, Jesus is reigning in a way more miraculous than we, or anyone else at the time, could realize.  By refusing to retaliate, by refusing to call upon the “ten thousand angels” we have sung about so often, Jesus is transforming suffering into atonement.  He is transfiguring the hatred of his enemies, into a love than conquers all.  We read in that famous passage of Paul’s letter to the Philippians that “being found in human form, he humbled himself by becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross.” (Philippians 2:8)  Jesus understood, and in the process teaches us to understand, that victory comes not through the absence of suffering and death, but in the presence of obedience.  When we place our lives in the hands of a loving God, despite what it may cost us, we are displaying our trust in the one who has power even over death itself. 

The cross illustrates for us that God’s love greater than we can imagine.  Sounds like a pretty obvious statement, but consider for a moment that the amazing act of love we see take place on the cross, was part of a plan.  It was not a spur-of-the-moment, adrenaline induced act of bravery on Jesus’ part.  It was a decision he made well in advance (to say the least), having considered the consequences.   Jesus came to this earth knowing his fate, knowing that the cross lay before him.  The word “excruciating” actually comes from the word crucify, so that it wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say that Jesus lived his entire life aware of the excruciating future that lay in store for him.  Imagine living your life knowing that you would die a tortuous death.  He knew that he was living the words of Isaiah:

“I gave my back to those who strike, and my cheeks to those who pull out the beard; I hid not my face from disgrace and spitting.” (Isaiah 50:6)

And the words of the psalm were possibly running through his mind as they took the clothes off of his back:

“They divide my garments among them, and for my clothing they cast lots.” (Psalm 22:18)

Jesus actions demonstrate love combined with grace.  Love because of the tremendous amount he sacrificed, grace because he did it when we were still in rebellion against God.  In writing to the Romans, Paul would sum it up in perhaps the best way possible:

“For while we were still weak, at the right time Christ died for the ungodly.  For one will scarcely die for a righteous person- though perhaps for a good person one would dare to die- but God shows his love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us.” – Romans 5:6-8

Jesus suffering demonstrates his love for us, God’s love for us, but it is not the final word.  The prophet Isaiah, when foretelling all the Suffering Servant of God must endure, also knew that the suffering was only temporary:

“Therefore I will divide him a portion with the many, and he shall divide the spoil with the strong, because he poured out his soul to death and was numbered with the transgressors; yet he bore the sin of many, and makes intercession for the transgressors.” – Isaiah 53:12

It is clear that God’s love for us is greater than we can imagine, especially in light of what our forgiveness cost.  However, how does the grace we receive through God’s forgiveness affect our formation? 

God’s forgiveness shapes our formation in the fact that we are called to live grace-filled lives.  In the same letter to the Romans I mentioned earlier, Paul plainly states that this is an expectation of those who have received God’s mercy:

“I appeal to you therefore, brothers, by the mercies of God, to present your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and acceptable to God, which is your spiritual worship.” – Romans 12:1

Because of Christ’s sacrificial death, we are free to live sacrificial live.  If you go back to Philippians, the passage I alluded to earlier actually begins, “have this mind in yourselves, which is yours in Christ Jesus…”  (Philippians 2:5)  In other words, we are called not just to be thankful for Jesus’ attitude; we are called to emulate it.  That’s a challenging charge for those who would follow Christ.   What it comes down to is this; we can only truly call ourselves Christian if we are willing to live as Christ did.  In many trades and fields, people are referred to in certain ways because their thoughts or practices conform to a well-noted theorist.  Hence, some psychologists are referred to as Freudians, or Jungians, because their philosophical approach to psychology conforms to the thinking of Sigmund Freud, or Carl Jung.   They call themselves these things because they adhere to the philosophies of these men.  I wonder, do we adhere to the attitude and philosophy of Jesus Christ in such a way that calling us Christian would be accurate? 

I was reading not too long ago about a man named Patrick Greene.  Patrick lives in Texas, and is an atheist who sued the county to have a nativity scene removed from the courthouse grounds.  Because of a detached retina, he was at risk of going blind in one eye.  He was flabbergasted when he received a check from local Christians to help cover his medical bills.  When speaking of the unsolicited, and in many ways shocking act of generosity Greene simply stated, “They said they wanted to do what real Christians are supposed to do- love you- and they wanted to help.”  This group of Christians understood that the cross is about more than forgiveness, it’s also about formation.  They took to heart the words, “have this mind in yourselves, which is yours in Christ Jesus.”  May that mind, which is ours in Christ Jesus, lead us to perform acts that reflect who Christ is, and who he wants us to be.        

Mark 15:1-15: being Barabbas

With the benefit of hindsight we look at Jesus’ trial in Mark 15:1-15, and we can’t help but feel heartbreak.  How is it, why is it, that the Son of God who came and showed such compassion, such love for those around him, now stands alone, rejected by the very ones he can to save?  We come to this story again and again in frustration and in sorrow.  We come in frustration because in our estimation things should have gone differently, and in sorrow because we realize that it is because of our own sin that things had to be this way.  It is possible, I think, to also come away from this passage with not only frustration and sorrow, but also insight.  Is it possible that we can find in this story not just redemption for our souls, but also redemption from the thinking that brought the world to this time and place? 

To begin with, I’d offer the observation that when it comes to Jesus, we should never accept an imitation.  It seems like an obvious statement to make, but we are as prone to being fooled as the crowds that turned on Jesus that Good Friday.  Barabbas’ name, which is translated “son of the Father”, was a popular name among rabbis.  In Matthew 27:16 Barabbas is supplied with the first name Jesus, so that the crowd chooses between two Jesus- a situation rich in irony.  The Jesus in view here, Jesus Barabbas, was somehow tied to an insurrection, perhaps to a patriotic movement for independence from Rome.  This puts him more in line with what people would expect in a messiah, and thus when given the choice between two Jesus’, the crowd chooses the one that fits their expectations.  Barabbas stands as a model for all false messiahs, promising victory but bringing suffering.  Such was the experience of Jews in Palestine throughout the centuries surrounding Jesus’ life, whenever they bought into the hope offered by such men.  The true messiah, Jesus Christ, succeeds beyond all our expectations, promising suffering that leads to ultimate victory.  When given the choice of messiahs, which one do we choose?  Do we choose the real one, or the one that fits our idea of what a messiah should be?

If we are going to learn to follow the true Messiah, the one who offers a path of suffering that leads to ultimate victory, we will have to learn that we cannot go with the crowd.  We see the crown shouting out in complete and enthusiastic condemnation of Jesus.  The last time “shout out” was used was to describe the crowds enthusiastic greeting of Jesus during his entry into Jerusalem (Mark 11:9)  In the span of a few chapters Jesus has gone from being hailed as messiah, to being deemed deserving of the worst death imaginable.  How can a crowd so quickly swing from one extreme to the other?  In this instance, it is evident that the chief priests have control of the crowd, and are able to guide them to fulfilling their agenda.  It seems very similar to a scene in the coliseum, where the crowd would determine the fate of defeated gladiators.  The conventional political wisdom of the day was that when confronting the Roman authorities with a request or demand, it was best to do so with as large and boisterous a crowd as possible.  The lesson here is that far from having wisdom, crowds have agendas, and usually unbeknownst to the crowd itself, the agenda is being controlled by an extremely small group of people.  We are not liberated through crowds or the agendas of others that control such crowds, rather we are liberated by following in the footsteps of a single man, Jesus Christ, the one who died to redeem the very crowd which raged against him. 

A final point that can be gleaned from this passage, and perhaps the one that deserves the most emphasis, is that just like the two Jesus’, Jesus Christ and Jesus Barabbas, we get a fate we don’t deserve.  You see, imprisonment was not a common legal penalty in the Greco-Roman world, so any prisoner to be released was either awaiting trial, or had already been condemned and was awaiting sentencing.  This means Barabbas had more than likely either already been tried, or was awaiting sentencing.  We see this often in the life of the apostle Paul as we read of his career.  His imprisonment is usually a precursor to a trial, whether that trial is before a group of local officials, a proconsul, or the emperor himself.  When the Romans chose to grant amnesty, there were two forms in which it was given.  There was the abolitio, or acquittal of a prisoner not yet condemned.  And there was also the indulgentia, or the pardoning of one already condemned.   Jesus dies for the crimes of Barabbas, though he was innocent, while Barabbas is let free, though he is guilty.  If this doesn’t sound familiar to you, it should, for we could very easily substitute in any of our names in the place of Barabbas, and the sentence would hold just as much truth as it does in its current construction.  Jesus’ trial was more than a mere legal proceeding; it was the acting out of the divine drama of redemption, forgiveness, and grace.  To put it in Roman legal terms you’re now familiar with, by not receiving an abolitio, Jesus wins for us an indulgentia.