Devotional: Where Are the Words?

Speechlessness in the mouth of a preacher is not a good thing.

Speechless, however, is exactly how the followers of Jesus found themselves on the morning of that third day.

It’s also where I find myself now.

I’ve written for weeks on varying stages and aspects of Christ’s journey to the cross. And now, today, we celebrate the anniversary of the day He rose from the dead, and I am at a loss for what to say about it. It’s nice, as I look back, to know I’m not the only one.

I listen to my fellow believers reflect on this season with varying degrees of awe, thankfulness, and joy. All I can think about, however, as I go back and read over the accounts of the actual Resurrection, is how dumbstruck the core group of disciples was.

Why was this? Jesus had warned them often enough in the weeks beforehand that His death would take place. “And on the third day, I will be raised.”

In the shock of witnessing his death—which surely was more awful than they dreamed possible—did they not believe the last thing would come to pass?

The women believed, and bursting with joy, ran to share the news, although it’s clear that Mary Magdalene struggled at first with the  believing.

There were other hints that this particular plot twist was coming. The raising of Jairus’ daughter, the raising of the unnamed young man being carried away to his burial, the raising of Lazarus. Yet, it seems the disciples were tempted to believe the taunts above all else—“He who saved others is unable to save Himself.”

But—no. Oh no. He was more than able, just not in the way they expected.

I wonder, too, what the eventual state of belief was for those hapless guards left to keep watch over the tomb. They saw the angels. They knew the disciples hadn’t come and stolen the body. They were there to prevent that very thing, and yet afterwards they were paid off—by the Pharisees and chief priests, no less, not even Pilate himself—to say that very thing happened, after all. The irony!

When I reflect on the Resurrection of Jesus itself, words like glorious and awesome come to mind ... but we all say that, in our time. What about how it appeared to His original followers, and to those guards?

Stunning.

Terrifying.

Unbelievable.

Even now, people struggle to believe. Is it any wonder the rest of the world shakes its head at us, these crazy Christians who insist that there really was a literal resurrection?

And yet, on this hangs all of our faith. Not the value of Jesus as a good teacher, but as the Son of God and the Son of Man, perfect humanity offered up to die on our behalf, then risen again to life. The One who cracked death wide open, as the tomb was opened during that earthquake long ago.

May I walk today—and the rest of my days—living out the conviction that my lips speak. And may I ever be speechless before Him—but not in giving others an answer for what I believe.

¹ Who has believed our report?
And to whom has the arm of the LORD been revealed?

³ He is despised and rejected by men,
A Man of sorrows and acquainted with grief.
And we hid, as it were, our faces from Him;
He was despised, and we did not esteem Him.

¹⁰ Yet it pleased the Lord to bruise Him;
He has put Him to grief.
When You make His soul an offering for sin,
He shall see His seed, He shall prolong His days,
And the pleasure of the Lord shall prosper in His hand.
¹¹ He shall see the labor of His soul, and be satisfied.
By His knowledge My righteous Servant shall justify many,
For He shall bear their iniquities.
¹² Therefore I will divide Him a portion with the great,
And He shall divide the spoil with the strong,
Because He poured out His soul unto death,
And He was numbered with the transgressors,
And He bore the sin of many,
And made intercession for the transgressors. (Isaiah 53)

¹ Now after the Sabbath, as the first day of the week began to dawn, Mary Magdalene and the other Mary came to see the tomb. ² And behold, there was a great earthquake; for an angel of the Lord descended from heaven, and came and rolled back the stone from the door, and sat on it. ³ His countenance was like lightning, and his clothing as white as snow. ⁴ And the guards shook for fear of him, and became like dead men.

⁵ But the angel answered and said to the women, “Do not be afraid, for I know that you seek Jesus who was crucified. ⁶ He is not here; for He is risen, as He said. (Matthew 28, all NKJV)

This post first appeared 4/20/14.

Read More

Devotional: Our Dying God

“If you’re really our Messiah,” they said, “if you’re really the Son of God, then save yourself!”

All those who were looking to Jesus to act like a god were disappointed.

Here were two cultures, both saturated with tales of power and renown from their God and gods and an array of heroes. The Red Sea—the Kraken. Samson, Elijah—Hercules and Perseus. Everyone knew that if Jesus were really God, there would be some display of power, and maybe He was saving it for the very end. Right?

Well, he wasn’t yet at the end. But they thought so.

While the scribes and Pharisees railed, it was a criminal and a Roman centurion who paid enough attention to the signs to realize what was happening.

For all the exploits of heroes, and the strong arm of God flexed for the eyes of men, the world had yet to see the strength of God as He gave Himself to die.

This Man, unrecognizable to anyone who didn’t know it was Him, suffering not just with resignation, as the old paintings show Him, but with determination. With passion.

It’s the only way, I’ve decided, He could have endured it. Without begging for mercy. Without screaming and wailing. Without the ranting fury of the criminals beside him.

This Man, suffering in relative silence. With patience. With an unearthly focus.

It was enough to convince one of the criminals, who dared ask Jesus for favor while they were there on the cross.

It was also enough, in combination with a total eclipse of the sun and a serious earthquake, to convince a hardened Roman centurion that Jesus must truly be the Son of God.

I wonder whether it also had convinced Pilate, who though he gave Jesus up for scourging and crucifixion, was piqued enough at the Jews who insisted on it all to have “King of the Jews” written and posted over Jesus’ head. Not “He claimed to be King of the Jews,” as the Pharisees insisted, but the simple declaration.

You know he had to wonder just who he was dealing with.

Here was the one of whom the prophets spoke. The Suffering Servant of Isaiah. Greater than Hercules, mightier than Apollo and Zeus, displaying His strength by His restraint. In not lashing out, not fighting back.

That truly had to be the most awe-inspiring sight in the universe.

⁴⁴ Now it was about the sixth hour, and there was darkness over all the earth until the ninth hour. ⁴⁵ Then the sun was darkened, and the veil of the temple was torn in two. ⁴⁶ And when Jesus had cried out with a loud voice, He said, “Father, ‘into Your hands I commit My spirit.’” Having said this, He breathed His last.

⁴⁷ So when the centurion saw what had happened, he glorified God, saying, “Certainly this was a righteous Man!”

⁴⁸ And the whole crowd who came together to that sight, seeing what had been done, beat their breasts and returned. (Luke 23)

³⁷ And Jesus cried out with a loud voice, and breathed His last.

³⁸ Then the veil of the temple was torn in two from top to bottom. ³⁹ So when the centurion, who stood opposite Him, saw that He cried out like this and breathed His last, he said, “Truly this Man was the Son of God!” (Mark 15, both NKJV)

This post first appeared 4/13/14.

Read More

Devotional: Determined To Die

Last week I focused on the image of Jesus being led away to His crucifixion. There’s a moment in the film “Man of Steel” where Clark Kent/Kal-El is walking, handcuffed, flanked by guards. It’s laughable—you know he’s only there by his own will.

It struck me how Jesus being led away must have looked much like that to the angels, waiting by just in case He changed His mind.

But He didn’t. He walked the road—stopping just once to tell a group of wailing women not to mourn for Him, but for those who would someday despise their God-given ability to bear and nourish life. This seems an odd aside for someone on His way to die for the redemption of the world.

Then came the actual deed—Jesus being nailed to the cross. Whatever one believes about the shape of the cross, the fact remains, He was fastened to wood by the means of iron spikes.

Unthinkable pain.

Unthinkable means to our salvation.

“If there is any other way We can do this,” He’d begged God the Father, “then please, let it be done.”

What do we think—is there any other way? What of all those people who say God must be a sadist, delighting in the pain of His people, to let them suffer. “It pleased Him to bruise Him,” Scripture says. How in all of heaven and earth can that be the statement of a just and fair God?

To let an innocent Man be falsely accused and ridiculed, beaten and whipped to shreds? For that matter, the Man Himself didn’t even really speak in His own defense.

None of it makes sense unless you know and believe that all of it was part of the Grand Plan. Jesus held His tongue—allowed Himself to be led away—let them nail Him to hard, unyielding wood, because He knew it was the only means to win us redemption.

Unthinkable torture.

Unthinkable determination.

Unthinkable love.

Then Jesus said, “Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they do.” (Luke 23:34, NKJV)

Read More

Devotional: He Was Led

So, what did Pilate, Herod, and the Jewish religious leaders do after exhausting their questions and accusations?

Take the bruised, bloodied, and tattered Man, remove the beautiful purple robe and replace his own humble garments, then lead him out for crucifixion.

And that itself should give one pause.

He was led.

He went willingly.

Why would He do this? Why? I’ve asked this question here, before. We know it was for love. Love of fallen humanity.

“And He, bearing His cross ...” (John 19:17)

Wait a minute. We see in the other three accounts, as they came out, Jesus must have faltered. The Roman soldiers seized a man who was there “from the country,” a Jew from Cyrene, a city in eastern Libya, to carry the cross for Jesus. A stranger who was just in town for the great feast of the Passover, co-opted to carry the instrument of death for the ultimate sacrifice.

Did he know anything about what had been going on with this Jesus dude? Or was he just caught in the press, in the wrong place at the wrong time?

He too was led away.

Did he watch the bloody footprints of this man whose face was more marred than anyone else’s had ever been, and wonder if he’d be crucified as well? Did he feel a sense of relief when it turned out he wasn’t?

Do we all only feel a sense of relief when we escape some terrible fate?

I wonder too, are we willing to walk the road to the Cross, regardless of what awaits us at the end?

⁴ Surely He has borne our griefs
And carried our sorrows;
Yet we esteemed Him stricken,
Smitten by God, and afflicted.
⁵ But He was wounded for our transgressions,
He was bruised for our iniquities;
The chastisement for our peace was upon Him,
And by His stripes we are healed.
⁶ All we like sheep have gone astray;
We have turned, every one, to his own way;
And the Lord has laid on Him the iniquity of us all.

⁷ He was oppressed and He was afflicted,
Yet He opened not His mouth;
He was led as a lamb to the slaughter,
And as a sheep before its shearers is silent,
So He opened not His mouth. (Isaiah 53)

²⁰ And when they had mocked Him, they took the purple off Him, put His own clothes on Him, and led Him out to crucify Him. (Mark 15, all NKJV)

(This post first appeared March 30, 2014)

Read More

Devotional: Innocent Man, Stubborn God

... and the seemingly pointless trials continue, as the last day before the Crucifixion plays out.

This time, Jesus is dragged off to Pontius Pilate, the Roman governor. It’s obvious Pilate is irritated—for starters, Scripture tells us it’s first thing in the morning. From the account in John, we find out the Jews wouldn’t even enter the Praetorium because they didn’t want to be defiled on the Passover, so Pilate takes himself outside to talk to them. Luke’s account is fairly abbreviated—the Jews’ complaints are calculated to ensure that Pilate gets involved: he claims to be king, he forbids to pay taxes to Caesar. (We know this was a lie.)

I can almost hear Pilate heaving a sigh as he marches back inside and orders Jesus brought to him.

Are you the King of the Jews? he asks.

It is as you say, Jesus answers, in the account from Luke.

We know from John that there was much more to it, that Pilate’s curiosity was engaged at some point, and that Jesus takes the time to actually explain things in a way he doesn’t with anyone else during this time.

Are you the King of Jews? Pilate says.

Are you asking this for yourself, Jesus counters, or because others have told you so?

Hey, Pilate answers, I’m not a Jew. Your people and nation brought you here to me. What’s the deal?

My kingdom isn’t of this world, Jesus says. If they were, my servants would fight for me.

Kingdom, huh? Are you a king, then?

So you say, Jesus answers. This is why I was born, to speak the truth. Everyone who is of the truth hears my voice.

And Pilate delivers that line, What is truth? and goes out to tell the Jews he can’t find anything on which to convict Jesus.

Not only that, but in stronger terms. He is innocent.

Throughout the rising and falling drama of the next hour or two, Pilate says it two more times. He is innocent. I find no fault in Him!

He knows the Jews want Jesus killed, and he’s trying hard to get out of it. He even tries sloughing off the job onto Herod, who’s at first excited to see Jesus, since he’s hoping to get some kind of magic show out of it. In this case, Jesus answers not a word. Disappointed, Herod joins in with his guard in mocking and abusing Jesus, and they send Jesus back to Pilate, dressed in a kingly robe designed to further mock Jesus’ claims.

Look, Pilate tells the Jews, ready to riot. Not even Herod found anything worthy of death. Let me punish him and then let him go.

No! Crucify him, they cried.

This is when Pilate orders the scourging. Even then, you can hear the exasperation in his pronouncement, Behold the man.

Look at Him.

By now He’s endured spitting and smacking and punching. Lies, malice, and mockery. All in silence, except for his cryptic statements to one Roman governor.

And Pilate caves to the crowd. Since when is Rome a democracy? Or swayed by the threat of riots?

By now I think Pilate was scared spitless. Caught between the under-rulers of a conquered nations and the appeal of a wife who begs him not to have anything to do with sentencing Jesus, himself arrested by the otherworldliness of this Man who wouldn’t even plead for his own life—indeed, who said  you would have no power at all over me if it hadn’t been granted you—who wouldn’t be spooked by that?

Astonishing, though. A hardened Roman official, who made it his business to clear out anyone stirring up trouble in this little province. Wouldn’t he have jumped at the chance to make an example of Jesus?

Yet, he doesn’t. Very strange.

And the Untame Lion continues walking the road toward His destiny as the ultimate Passover Lamb ...

¹³ Then Pilate, when he had called together the chief priests, the rulers, and the people, ¹⁴ said to them, “You have brought this Man to me, as one who misleads the people. And indeed, having examined Him in your presence, I have found no fault in this Man concerning those things of which you accuse Him; ¹⁵ no, neither did Herod, for I sent you back to him; and indeed nothing deserving of death has been done by Him. (Luke 23, NKJV)

(first posted March 23, 2014)

Read More

Devotional: Are You the Son of God?

So, give it to us straight, the Pharisees said to Jesus. Are you our Machiach, our Anointed one?

And He said to them, it doesn’t matter if I said yes. You wouldn’t believe me anyway. And it isn’t like you’re going to answer any of my questions, or let me go.

Are You then the Son of God? they asked.

You say that I am, He answered.

And I can just envision the scene—the whole place erupting. See? See? What else do we need to hear. We’ve heard it ourselves from His own mouth.

The audacity of this man, to claim He’s the Son of God!

More like, the audacity of them, to speak this way to One who stood bound before them, the God clothed in flesh, putting up with their dog-and-pony show with a resignation that only underscores how ludicrous it was for them to think they could do anything to Him without His permission.

Back in the Garden of Gethsemane, Jesus revealed His humanity to His disciples, but here, He’s the Creator in disguise. The One in whom we all live, and move, and have our being, standing there with barely leashed patience as these men questioned and accused him.

And then I think ... the audacity of myself, to question Him. To doubt Him. The God who did not spare His own Son, but offered Him up for us all. To accuse Him, in essence, of not really loving us, of not really having our best interests in mind, or sometimes even of not having a plan at all.

Yes, life spins out of control. Things don’t go the way I would choose. I feel God pressing a promise into my heart, and then everything around me seems to make a lie of that promise. But ... the Son of Man must die ... before the Resurrection can happen.

How dare He claim to be the Son of God?

No. How dare I, because it was my sins that sent Him down this road.

 ⁶⁶ As soon as it was day, the elders of the people, both chief priests and scribes, came together and led Him into their council, saying, ⁶⁷ “If You are the Christ, tell us.”

But He said to them, “If I tell you, you will by no means believe. ⁶⁸ And if I also ask you, you will by no means answer Me or let Me go. ⁶⁹ Hereafter the Son of Man will sit on the right hand of the power of God.”

⁷⁰ Then they all said, “Are You then the Son of God?”

So He said to them, “You rightly say that I am.”

⁷¹ And they said, “What further testimony do we need? For we have heard it ourselves from His own mouth.” (Luke 22)

² looking unto Jesus, the author and finisher of our faith, who for the joy that was set before Him endured the cross, despising the shame, and has sat down at the right hand of the throne of God. ³ For consider Him who endured such hostility from sinners against Himself, lest you become weary and discouraged in your souls. ⁴ You have not yet resisted to bloodshed, striving against sin. (Hebrews 12, all NKJV)

This post first appeared March 6, 2014.

Read More

Devotional: The Humanness of Jesus, Take 2

Jesus was human as well as divine. We know this.

But was He really human?

⁵ Let this mind be in you which was also in Christ Jesus, ⁶ who, being in the form of God, did not consider it robbery to be equal with God, ⁷ but made Himself of no reputation, taking the form of a bondservant, and coming in the likeness of men. ⁸ And being found in appearance as a man, He humbled Himself and became obedient to the point of death, even the death of the cross. (Philippians 2, NKJV)

This next passage of Philippians dovetails nicely with the onset of Lent. The great mystery of the Incarnation: God coming down to become one of us, to experience humanity, then to die for humanity. I wrote last year about the humanness of Jesus, but this week, I find myself freshly astonished.

Someone said that Christians tend to think Jesus was not really human ... that He was only pretending to be human. Guilty as charged! Too often I mentally dismiss the element of peril within the 40 days Jesus spent in the wilderness, fasting and then being tempted. After all, He was God, He couldn't really have fallen, in that situation.

Could He?

Someone else commented, however, that temptation by its very nature means the person being tempted actually entertained the notion of doing what’s presented to him. Could Jesus actually have considered turning those stones to bread? Leaping off the pinnacle of the temple to prove His godhood? We might never know.

We do see His utter humanness in the garden of Gethesemane, where He cries out to God to spare Him the experience of the Cross if any other way can be made to accomplish our salvation. (As my pastor said last year, He was God and all glory belonged to Him anyway, so it wasn’t like He had do this.) But this struck me all over again, in Jesus’ chiding of the disciples for sleeping when He’d asked them to watch and pray. We don’t tend to think of Jesus as needing prayer ... but bound in deep dread over what He was about to face—because He had to absolutely know the kind of pain that crucifixion would involve—He was stressed to the point of hemorrhaging through His skin. He’d asked these men, the three who were closest to Him than any others in His earthly walk, to stay by His side while He wrestled through the dread. And then to find, three times, that they just fell asleep ...

Was He only asking for moral support?  Scripture suggests that at least part of His concern was for the dicsiples, especially Peter, to pray for their own strength in the coming trial. But we can hear it in His voice ... Guys! I needed you ... maybe I never did before but I did now ... and you let me down.

How many times have I felt that exact thing over the past few years? That at my point of greatest need, some of those I considered my closest friends failed to be there for me?

To suddenly see that my glorious, beautiful Redeemer did as well, comforts me like nothing else.

Wow, He really was as fully human as He is God.

And He was the perfect Savior to sympathize with our own weakness.

⁴¹ And He was withdrawn from them about a stone’s throw, and He knelt down and prayed, ⁴² saying, “Father, if it is Your will, take this cup away from Me; nevertheless not My will, but Yours, be done.” ⁴³ Then an angel appeared to Him from heaven, strengthening Him. ⁴⁴ And being in agony, He prayed more earnestly. Then His sweat became like great drops of blood falling down to the ground. (Luke 22, NKJV)

³² Then they came to a place which was named Gethsemane; and He said to His disciples, “Sit here while I pray.” ³³ And He took Peter, James, and John with Him, and He began to be troubled and deeply distressed. ³⁴ Then He said to them, “My soul is exceedingly sorrowful, even to death. Stay here and watch.”

³⁵ He went a little farther, and fell on the ground, and prayed that if it were possible, the hour might pass from Him. ³⁶ And He said, “Abba, Father, all things are possible for You. Take this cup away from Me; nevertheless, not what I will, but what You will.”

³⁷ Then He came and found them sleeping, and said to Peter, “Simon, are you sleeping? Could you not watch one hour? ³⁸ Watch and pray, lest you enter into temptation. The spirit indeed is willing, but the flesh is weak.”

³⁹ Again He went away and prayed, and spoke the same words. ⁴⁰ And when He returned, He found them asleep again, for their eyes were heavy; and they did not know what to answer Him.

⁴¹ Then He came the third time and said to them, “Are you still sleeping and resting? It is enough! The hour has come; behold, the Son of Man is being betrayed into the hands of sinners. ⁴² Rise, let us be going. See, My betrayer is at hand.” (Mark 14, NKJV)

Read More

Sunday Devotional: Where Are the Words?

Speechlessness in the mouth of a preacher is not a good thing.

Speechless, however, is exactly how the followers of Jesus found themselves on the morning of that third day.

It’s also where I find myself now.

I’ve written for six weeks on varying stages and aspects of Christ’s journey to the cross. And now, today, we celebrate the anniversary of the day He rose from the dead, and I am at a loss for what to say about it. It’s nice, as I look back, to know I’m not the only one.

I listen to my fellow believers reflect on this season with varying degrees of awe, thankfulness, and joy. All I can think about, however, as I go back and read over the accounts of the actual Resurrection, is how dumbstruck the core group of disciples was.

Why was this? Jesus had warned them often enough in the weeks beforehand that His death would take place. “And on the third day, I will be raised.”

In the shock of witnessing his death—which surely was more awful than they dreamed possible—did they not believe the last thing would come to pass?

The women believed, and bursting with joy, ran to share the news, although it’s clear that Mary Magdalene struggled at first with believing.

There were other hints that this particular plot twist was coming. The raising of Jairus’ daughter, the raising of the unnamed young man being carried away to his burial, the raising of Lazarus. Yet, it seems the disciples were tempted to believe the taunts above all else—“He who saved others is unable to save Himself.”

But—no. Oh no. He was more than able, just not in the way they expected.

I wonder, too, what the eventual state of belief was for those hapless guards left to keep watch over the tomb. They ¬saw the angels. They knew the disciples hadn’t come and stolen the body. They were there to prevent that very thing, and yet afterwards they were paid off—by the Pharisees and chief priests, no less, not even Pilate himself—to say that very thing happened, after all. The irony!

When I reflect on the Resurrection of Jesus itself, words like glorious and awesome come to mind ... but we all say that, in our time. What about how it appeared to His original followers, and to those guards?

Stunning.

Terrifying.

Unbelievable.

Even now, people struggle to believe. Is it any wonder the rest of the world shakes its head at us, these crazy Christians who insist that there really was a literal resurrection?

And yet, on this hangs all of our faith. Not the value of Jesus as a good teacher, but as the Son of God and the Son of Man, perfect humanity offered up to die on our behalf, then risen again to life. The One who cracked death wide open, as the tomb was opened during that earthquake long ago.

May I walk today—and the rest of my days—living out the conviction that my lips speak. And may I ever be speechless before Him—but not in giving others an answer for what I believe.


¹ Who has believed our report?
And to whom has the arm of the LORD been revealed?

³ He is despised and rejected by men,
A Man of sorrows and acquainted with grief.
And we hid, as it were, our faces from Him;
He was despised, and we did not esteem Him.

¹⁰ Yet it pleased the Lord to bruise Him;
He has put Him to grief.
When You make His soul an offering for sin,
He shall see His seed, He shall prolong His days,
And the pleasure of the Lord shall prosper in His hand.
¹¹ He shall see the labor of His soul, and be satisfied.
By His knowledge My righteous Servant shall justify many,
For He shall bear their iniquities.
¹² Therefore I will divide Him a portion with the great,
And He shall divide the spoil with the strong,
Because He poured out His soul unto death,
And He was numbered with the transgressors,
And He bore the sin of many,
And made intercession for the transgressors. (Isaiah 53)

¹ Now after the Sabbath, as the first day of the week began to dawn, Mary Magdalene and the other Mary came to see the tomb. ² And behold, there was a great earthquake; for an angel of the Lord descended from heaven, and came and rolled back the stone from the door, and sat on it. ³ His countenance was like lightning, and his clothing as white as snow. ⁴ And the guards shook for fear of him, and became like dead men.

⁵ But the angel answered and said to the women, “Do not be afraid, for I know that you seek Jesus who was crucified. ⁶ He is not here; for He is risen, as He said. (Matthew 28, all NKJV)

Read More

Sunday Devotional: Our Dying God

“If you’re really our Messiah,” they said, “if you’re really the Son of God, then save yourself!”

All those who were looking to Jesus to act like a god were disappointed.

Here were two cultures, both saturated with tales of power and renown from their God and gods and an array of heroes. The Red Sea—the Kraken. Samson, Elijah—Hercules and Perseus. Everyone knew that if Jesus were really God, there would be some display of power, and maybe He was saving it for the very end. Right?

Well, he wasn’t yet at the end. But they thought so.

While the scribes and Pharisees railed, it was a criminal and a Roman centurion who paid enough attention to the signs to realize what was happening.

For all the exploits of heroes, and the strong arm of God flexed for the eyes of men, the world had yet to see the strength of God as He gave Himself to die.

This Man, unrecognizable to anyone who didn’t know it was Him, suffering not just with resignation, as the old paintings show Him, but with determination. With passion.

It’s the only way, I’ve decided, He could have endured it. Without begging for mercy. Without screaming and wailing. Without the ranting fury of the criminals beside him.

This Man, suffering in relative silence. With patience. With an unearthly focus.

It was enough to convince one of the criminals, who dared ask Jesus for favor while they were there on the cross.

It was also enough, in combination with a total eclipse of the sun and a serious earthquake, to convince a hardened Roman centurion that Jesus must truly be the Son of God.

I wonder whether it also had convinced Pilate, who though he gave Jesus up for scourging and crucifixion, was piqued enough at the Jews who insisted on it all to have “King of the Jews” written and posted over Jesus’ head. Not “He claimed to be King of the Jews,” as the Pharisees insisted, but the simple declaration.

You know he had to wonder just who he was dealing with.

Here was the one the prophets spoke of. The Suffering Servant of Isaiah. Greater than Hercules, mightier than Apollo and Zeus, displaying His strength by His restraint. In not lashing out, not fighting back.

That truly had to be the most awe-inspiring sight in the universe.

⁴⁴ Now it was about the sixth hour, and there was darkness over all the earth until the ninth hour. ⁴⁵ Then the sun was darkened, and the veil of the temple was torn in two. ⁴⁶ And when Jesus had cried out with a loud voice, He said, “Father, ‘into Your hands I commit My spirit.’” Having said this, He breathed His last.

⁴⁷ So when the centurion saw what had happened, he glorified God, saying, “Certainly this was a righteous Man!”

⁴⁸ And the whole crowd who came together to that sight, seeing what had been done, beat their breasts and returned. (Luke 23)

³⁷ And Jesus cried out with a loud voice, and breathed His last.

³⁸ Then the veil of the temple was torn in two from top to bottom. ³⁹ So when the centurion, who stood opposite Him, saw that He cried out like this and breathed His last,^[g] he said, “Truly this Man was the Son of God!” (Mark 15, both NKJV)

Read More

Sunday Devotional: Determined to Die

Last week I focused on the image of Jesus being led away to His crucifixion. There’s a moment in the recent film “Man of Steel” where Clark Kent/Kal-El is walking, handcuffed, flanked by guards. It’s laughable—you know he’s only there by his own will.

It struck me how Jesus being led away must have looked much like that to the angels, waiting by just in case He changed His mind.

But He didn’t. He walked the road—stopping just once to tell a group of wailing women not to mourn for Him, but for those who would someday despise their God-given ability to bear and nourish life. This seems an odd aside for someone on His way to die for the redemption of the world.

Then came the actual deed—Jesus being nailed to the cross. Whatever one believes about the shape of the cross, the fact remains, He was fastened to wood by the means of iron spikes.

Unthinkable pain.

Unthinkable means to our salvation.

“If there is any other way We can do this,” He’d begged God the Father, “then please, let it be done.”

What do we think—is there any other way? What of all those people who say God must be a sadist, delighting in the pain of His people, to let them suffer. “It pleased Him to bruise Him,” Scripture says. How in all of heaven and earth can that be the statement of a just and fair God?

To let an innocent Man be falsely accused and ridiculed, beaten and whipped to shreds? For that matter, the Man Himself didn’t even really speak in His own defense.

None of it makes sense unless you know and believe that all of it was part of the Grand Plan. Jesus held His tongue—allowed Himself to be led away—let them nail Him to hard, unyielding wood, because He knew it was the only means to win us redemption.

Unthinkable torture.

Unthinkable determination.

Unthinkable love.

Then Jesus said, “Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they do.” (Luke 23:34, NKJV)

Read More

Sunday Devotional: He Was Led

So, if the theme of Lent is “The Road to Calvary,” it only makes sense to focus on the next step.

Take the bruised, bloodied, and tattered Man, remove the beautiful purple robe and replace his own humble garments, then lead him out for crucifixion.

And that itself should give one pause.

He was led.

He went willingly.

Why would He do this? Why? I’ve asked this question here, before. We know it was for love. Love of fallen humanity.

“And He, bearing His cross ...” (John 19:17)

Wait a minute. We see in the other three accounts, as they came out, Jesus must have faltered. The Roman soldiers seized a man who was there “from the country,” a Jew from Cyrene, a city in eastern Libya, to carry the cross for Jesus. A stranger who was just in town for the great feast of the Passover, co-opted to carry the instrument of death for the ultimate sacrifice.

Did he know anything about what had been going on with this Jesus dude? Or was he just caught in the press, in the wrong place at the wrong time?

He too was led away.

Did he watch the bloody footprints of this man whose face was more marred than anyone else’s had ever been, and wonder if he’d be crucified as well? Did he feel a sense of relief when it turned out he wasn’t?

Do we all only feel a sense of relief when we escape some terrible fate?

I wonder too, are we willing to walk the road to the Cross, regardless of what awaits us at the end?

⁴ Surely He has borne our griefs
And carried our sorrows;
Yet we esteemed Him stricken,
Smitten by God, and afflicted.
⁵ But He was wounded for our transgressions,
He was bruised for our iniquities;
The chastisement for our peace was upon Him,
And by His stripes we are healed.
⁶ All we like sheep have gone astray;
We have turned, every one, to his own way;
And the Lord has laid on Him the iniquity of us all.

⁷ He was oppressed and He was afflicted,
Yet He opened not His mouth;
He was led as a lamb to the slaughter,
And as a sheep before its shearers is silent,
So He opened not His mouth. (Isaiah 53)

²⁰ And when they had mocked Him, they took the purple off Him, put His own clothes on Him, and led Him out to crucify Him. (Mark 15, all NKJV)

Read More

Sunday Devotional: Innocent Man, Stubborn God

... and the seemingly pointless trials continue, as the last day before the Crucifixion plays out.

This time, Jesus is dragged off to Pontius Pilate, the Roman governor. It’s obvious Pilate is irritated—for starters, Scripture tells us it’s first thing in the morning. From the account in John, we find out the Jews wouldn’t even enter the Praetorium because they didn’t want to be defiled on the Passover, so Pilate takes himself outside to talk to them. Luke’s account is fairly abbreviated—the Jews’ complaints are calculated to ensure that Pilate gets involved: he claims to be king, he forbids to pay taxes to Caesar. (We know this was a lie.)

I can almost hear Pilate heaving a sigh as he marches back inside and orders Jesus brought to him.

Are you the King of the Jews? he asks.

It is as you say, Jesus answers, in the account from Luke.

We know from John that there was much more to it, that Pilate’s curiosity was engaged at some point, and that Jesus takes the time to actually explain things in a way he doesn’t with anyone else during this time.

Are you the King of Jews? Pilate says.

Are you asking this for yourself, Jesus counters, or because others have told you so?

Hey, Pilate answers, I’m not a Jew. Your people and nation brought you here to me. What’s the deal?

My kingdom isn’t of this world, Jesus says. If they were, my servants would fight for me.

Kingdom, huh? Are you a king, then?

So you say, Jesus answers. This is why I was born, to speak the truth. Everyone who is of the truth hears my voice.

And Pilate delivers that line, What is truth? and goes out to tell the Jews he can’t find anything on which to convict Jesus.

Not only that, but in stronger terms. He is innocent.

Throughout the rising and falling drama of the next hour or two, Pilate says it two more times. He is innocent. I find no fault in Him!

He knows the Jews want Jesus killed, and he’s trying hard to get out of it. He even tries sloughing off the job onto Herod, who’s at first excited to see Jesus, since he’s hoping to get some kind of magic show out of it. In this case, Jesus answers not a word. Disappointed, Herod joins in with his guard in mocking and abusing Jesus, and they send Jesus back to Pilate, dressed in a kingly robe designed to further mock Jesus’ claims.

Look, Pilate tells the Jews, ready to riot. Not even Herod found anything worthy of death. Let me punish him and then let him go.

No! Crucify him, they cried.

This is when Pilate orders the scourging. Even then, you can hear the exasperation in his pronouncement, Behold the man.

Look at Him.

By now He’s endured spitting and smacking and punching. Lies, malice, and mockery. All in silence, except for his cryptic statements to one Roman governor.

And Pilate caves to the crowd. Since when is Rome a democracy? Or swayed by the threat of riots?

By now I think Pilate was scared spitless. Caught between the under-rulers of a conquered nations and the appeal of a wife who begs him not to have anything to do with sentencing Jesus, himself arrested by the otherworldliness of this Man who wouldn’t even plead for his own life—indeed, who said  you would have no power at all over me if it hadn’t been granted you—who wouldn’t be spooked by that?

Astonishing, though. A hardened Roman official, who made it his business to clear out anyone stirring up trouble in this little province. Wouldn’t he have jumped at the chance to make an example of Jesus?

Yet, he doesn’t. Very strange.

And the Untame Lion continues walking the road toward His destiny as the ultimate Passover Lamb ...

¹³ Then Pilate, when he had called together the chief priests, the rulers, and the people, ¹⁴ said to them, “You have brought this Man to me, as one who misleads the people. And indeed, having examined Him in your presence, I have found no fault in this Man concerning those things of which you accuse Him; ¹⁵ no, neither did Herod, for I sent you back to him; and indeed nothing deserving of death has been done by Him. (Luke 23)

Read More

Sunday Devotional: The Deity of Jesus, or How Dare He?

Last week I looked at a portion of Luke 22, which highlights the human struggle of Jesus when faced with the road to the Cross. This week, it’s a later part of that chapter, which highlights the struggle of Jesus in His deity.

So, give it to us straight, the Pharisees said to Jesus. Are you our Machiach, our Anointed one?

And He said to them, it doesn’t matter if I said yes. You wouldn’t believe me anyway. And it isn’t like you’re going to answer any of my questions, or let me go.

Are You then the Son of God? they asked.

You say that I am, He answered.

And I can just envision the scene—the whole place erupting. See? See? What else do we need to hear. We’ve heard it ourselves from His own mouth.

The audacity of this man, to claim He’s the Son of God!

More like, the audacity of them, to speak this way to One who stood bound before them, the God clothed in flesh, putting up with their dog-and-pony show with a resignation that only underscores how ludicrous it was for them to think they could do anything to Him without His permission.

Back in the Garden of Gethsemane, Jesus revealed His humanity to His disciples, but here, He’s the Creator in disguise. The One in whom we all live, and move, and have our being, standing there with barely leashed patience as these men questioned and accused him.

And then I think ... the audacity of myself, to question Him. To doubt Him. The God who did not spare His own Son, but offered Him up for us all. To accuse Him, in essence, of not really loving us, of not really having our best interests in mind, or sometimes even of not having a plan at all.

Yes, life spins out of control. Things don’t go the way I would choose. I feel God pressing a promise into my heart, and then everything around me seems to make a lie of that promise. But ... the Son of Man must die ... before the Resurrection can happen.

How dare He claim to be the Son of God?

No. How dare I, because it was my sins that sent Him down this road.

 ⁶⁶ As soon as it was day, the elders of the people, both chief priests and scribes, came together and led Him into their council, saying, ⁶⁷ “If You are the Christ, tell us.”

But He said to them, “If I tell you, you will by no means believe. ⁶⁸ And if I also ask you, you will by no means answer Me or let Me go. ⁶⁹ Hereafter the Son of Man will sit on the right hand of the power of God.”

⁷⁰ Then they all said, “Are You then the Son of God?”

So He said to them, “You rightly say that I am.”

⁷¹ And they said, “What further testimony do we need? For we have heard it ourselves from His own mouth.” (Luke 22)

² looking unto Jesus, the author and finisher of our faith, who for the joy that was set before Him endured the cross, despising the shame, and has sat down at the right hand of the throne of God. ³ For consider Him who endured such hostility from sinners against Himself, lest you become weary and discouraged in your souls. ⁴ You have not yet resisted to bloodshed, striving against sin. (Hebrews 12, all NKJV)

Read More

Sunday Devotional: Lent and the Humanness of Jesus

One of the changes that came with our move is that we landed in a church that observes Lent. The nontraditional part of me feels a bit curmudgeonly about this—so many practices of the church have become empty ritual, especially when they’re passed down over centuries. But knowing something of our new pastor’s heart already, I know he wants this to be vital and real to the believers under his care, and so I’m doing my best to go with it.

What is Lent? Traditionally it’s the 40 days leading up to Resurrection Sunday, roughly six weeks. Its observance is to help people focus on the sacrifice of Christ on the cross, and to appreciate more deeply what He’s done for us.

We should focus on the Cross during the whole year, of course. But does that mean I turn down an opportunity to do so just because it seems artificially pre-programmed?

No.

People commonly give up something for Lent—smoking, sugar, chocolate, coffee, TV, Facebook. I’ve run across two different commentaries that postulate that, the principle of fasting aside, this sort of observance usually winds up being worthless in terms of bringing us closer to God. Better to focus on “giving up” something spiritual that tends to be a snare to us, like gossip or complaining or anger or fear. I’m not sharing what I feel God has led me to give up—or better yet, lay down—because I’m feeling this is meant to be a private discipline between me and Him over the next weeks. And that isn’t the focus of this devotional, anyway.

I’ve been looking instead at the passages of Scripture our church has laid out to focus on over the season of Lent. The first one covers the prayer of Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane. A more-or-less familiar passage, depending upon how many years one has been in the church. What strikes me most this week is the authentic humanness of Jesus.

Of course Jesus was really human, we say. But the doubt of that seeps into our everyday thinking. Can He really understand our experience? Sure, He was tempted—I’ve heard preachers outline that each of the three temptations corresponds to a different area of human experience, and so everything we’ve ever been tempted to do is covered by Jesus’ wilderness trials. But I believe it’s deeper than that, and we see it here in this passage.

Basically, after celebrating Passover for the last time with His disciples, Jesus leads them out to the Mount of Olives, to Gethsemane (translated Olive Press, I believe), where he tells them to watch and pray, then goes on to pray alone. It’s here He spoke those often-quoted words, “Not My will, but Yours.” Do we feel the depth of dread in the part that came before—“if it is Your will, take this cup from Me”? The divine part of Jesus understood what was to come with a clarity I can hardly imagine, and the human part recoiled from it.

And, as our pastor here commented, it wasn’t like He had to do it. He was God—all the glory belonged to Him, anyway.

⁴¹ And He was withdrawn from them about a stone’s throw, and He knelt down and prayed, ⁴² saying, “Father, if it is Your will, take this cup away from Me; nevertheless not My will, but Yours, be done.” ⁴³ Then an angel appeared to Him from heaven, strengthening Him. ⁴⁴ And being in agony, He prayed more earnestly. Then His sweat became like great drops of blood falling down to the ground. (Luke 22, NKJV)

Read More