I've been trying to blog more lately.  Well... more precisely, I've been trying to publish on my blog(s) what I've been writing outside of it.  This seems to be the only way I'll ever have a remotely consistent blog.  My writing seems to be mostly occasional--written to someone in particular about something in particular.  While those thoughts are never fleshed out perfectly, or thought through perfectly, there is great care given to them, and they reveal a bit of who I am and what I'm about--at least at the moment. 

One reason I haven't been posting things like this on my blog is simply because I want things to be perfect before I post them.  It's finally sinking in that that is never going to happen, at least for me.  So why not just post things that aren't perfect?  Why not essentially put the label "In development" or "rough draft" on everything I post in my blogs? Perhaps being okay with my own imperfections is itself a step in the process of perfection?  At very least, it helps me overcome some of my obsessive perfectionism. 

The following is a sermon I did this past semester for a class on preaching.  Let it be said: I am not a preacher.  I did not go to seminary to become a preacher.  If I had to do a sermon every week, I think I would nearly kill myself.  I don't know how REAL preachers do it.  But I do fancy myself as an aspiring writer.  I enjoy the writing process, and the research process.  I don't mind the actual preaching either, if I have plenty of time to prepare for it.  This sermon is, of course, not perfect.  But it does unpack some things that I have been thinking about.  Here you go...

Why the Cross-born King?: a sermon on John 12

Delivered: 4/28/2008

Monday night, I pulled another all nighter trying to get my work done for this week.  So I packed up my stuff, and left my house about 3:45 AM, and drove up to Waco.  About 5:15 or so, I pull into the parking lot of the Pilot Travel Center/Gas station just south of town on I-35 (it’s where I go to pull all-nighters when I’m in Waco). 

Before my car is even in the parking space, a guy in a Camaero pulls up next to me, looking at me with his window rolled down, and I just knew he was going to ask me for money. 

I got out of my car, and of course he did just that: “Hey man, my mom is in ICU in Austin, and I need money to make the trip cuz I’m out of gas… think you can help me at all?” 

I’m thinking: “Fantastic!  I just made a $45 trip up to Waco, and now this lying idiot wants me to give him free gas.”  I’m so sick of these people who try to take advantage of people like me, who think they can actually fool me into believing them.  But I have this principle that I give them money anyway, because Grace is not about what people deserve.

I gave him $10 worth of gas, but I made sure he was clear that this was going to hurt me financially, that this was a sacrifice. But I didn’t do it out of love, but out of wanting to make him feel like crap for lying to me.  And that was vain.  Because I bet he just drove away in his Camero with a grin on his face saying, “Ha ha, See ya, sucker.”  He didn’t feel guilty.  He played me; I was his victim.

I wonder… I can’t help but to wonder if they said the exact same thing to Jesus when they put him on the Cross: “See ya, sucker.”  I wonder if they thought they had played him?

But I don’t think Jesus felt like a victim.  Somehow… somehow what Jesus did on the Cross transformed his “being a victim” into “victory” itself.  Even as the victim, He won, and he knew it.  He knew what was going to happen on the Cross all along, and he knew it was going to confuse a lot of people, because not at all what they were looking for.

At least that’s what we see in the Gospel of John.  Over, and over again, Jesus predicted what would happen to him—that he would be ‘lifted up’—and he warned that most people would be confused.  And the crowd never got it. 

You see, the people in the crowds were looking for this thing we call the Kingdom of God to come, except they were looking for something the same shape of all the other ‘kingdoms’ of the world they knew.  They were looking for a King who would rule by the Sword with strength and force. 

And this was exactly what they thought Jesus was going to be.  This guy astounded them.  His fame was spreading throughout the lands because of the amazing wonders he performed, turning water into wine, healing the lame and sick and blind, walking on water.  He fed five thousand people—that is a legion of people—out of one kid’s dinner!  In fact, it says in 6:14 that when he did that, he had to slip away because the crowd was going to (quote) “make him king by force.”  And then, as if that wasn’t enough, he raises some guy from the dead whose been gone from this world for three days!  I mean, that is pretty stinking awesome (pun intended, Lazarus), and everyone who saw was so blown away, the text says that they couldn’t stop talking about it! 

It says in chapter 12 that (quote) “great crowds” of Jews were coming to see Jesus (and Lazarus) because the news of Lazarus that was being spread so rapidly.  Now if there was already a legion of people who had come to see Jesus because of some healings, you can imagine the kind of support he could muster up with a resurrection. 

Honestly: Who else could you possibly imagine would be a better candidate for overthrowing Caesar, and taking Israel back for Yahweh?!  If a warrior messiah was literally what they were looking for, and they just saw Jesus raise Lazarus from the dead, you know they had to have been talking to each other like:

(surfer accent) “Dude, think about it.  This guy leads a couple of Legions of people against Rome… I mean, so what if Caesar’s army is bigger, cuz Jesus is a necromancer, man: people die, and he’d just zap ‘em back to life, you know?  I’d be like ‘There’s one Jesus.’ Zap ‘There’s a few more over there.’ Zap. Zap.  ‘Oh, you missed one Jesus.’ Zap.  You know?  It’d be awesome!”

That’s obviously what I’d be thinking, anyway…

So people came in swarms to welcome him into Jerusalem with palm branches and praises:

“Hosanna! Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord—

the King of Israel!” (Jn 12:13)

So many people had come to see Jesus, it says in verse 19 the Pharisees, who were plotting to kill him, just basically told each other that they might as well give up, because there is no way they could get to Jesus now. 

So far, with all these signs and wonders, Jesus fit the crowd’s bill.  So far, the Messiah they were expecting, and the Messiah Jesus was, were the same thing.  And now was the time of the Passover!  How perfect!  Just as Israel was freed from Egypt, they would now be freed from Rome!  

It all made sense to them.  Jesus’ miraculous feats just kept getting bigger and better as if they were building up to the glorious climax, and it would make sense for that climax to be the overthrow of Rome. 

But that wasn’t the climax he was building up to.   And they were going to be extremely disappointed. 

See, the glorious climax Jesus was building up to was something inconceivable to them: Christ (Messiah), King, crucified.

And now, in 12 verse 23, Jesus makes this clear:

²³ Jesus answered them, “The hour has come for the Son of Man to be glorified.

²⁴ Very truly, I tell you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains just a single grain; but if it dies, it bears much fruit. ²⁵ Those who love their life lose it, and those who hate their life in this world will keep it for eternal life. ²⁶ Whoever serves me must follow me, and where I am, there will my servant be also. Whoever serves me, the Father will honor.

²⁷ “Now my soul is troubled. And what should I say—‘Father, save me from this hour’? No, it is for this reason that I have come to this hour. ²⁸ Father, glorify your name.” Then a voice came from heaven, “I have glorified it, and I will glorify it again.” ²⁹ The crowd standing there heard it and said that it was thunder. Others said, “An angel has spoken to him.” ³⁰ Jesus answered, “This voice has come for your sake, not for mine. ³¹

Now is the judgment of this world;

now the ruler of this world will be driven out. ³²

And I, when I am lifted up from the earth,

will draw all people to myself.”

³³ He said this to indicate the kind of death he was to die.

Well, the crowd still doesn’t get it.  Jesus was going to be “lifted up”; Jesus was going to die, and that death is going to be the glorious climax that he has been building up to this whole time—his death was going to be his glorification.  His death would be his Kingdom Come.

Instead of being a warrior messiah who strides into Jerusalem swinging a sword to drive out the ruler of Rome, Jesus is the suffering servant who “drives out the ruler of this world” by hanging on a Cross.  Instead of being the mighty king who usurps his Kingdom by force of arms, Jesus is the mighty king who draws “all people” to himself when his arms are forced to a tree.”  

Oh yes, Jesus is glorified in this hour.  This hour is his glorious inauguration, but you have to have the eyes to see it as he is crowned in thorns, and takes his throne on two wooden beams. 

The absurdity of it demands that we ask: why in the world?   Why would he do it like this, when he could have done it exactly like everyone expected him to?  Why?  What is it about the Cross that makes it superior to the Sword? 

There are a lot of theological reasons I think you could justifiably list that make the Cross superior to the sword, but I’m going to focus on one thing that I don’t think is really talked about enough, but has radical implications on how we live our lives as agents of the Kingdom of God.

You see, the Cross is inextricably connected to God’s Love for the world (Jn 3:16).  God’s love for the world wants the world to be made whole, to be healed from its brokenness—that is what Christ being “lifted up” is referencing: the Golden Serpent that was “lifted up” on a pole so that anyone who looked at it would be healed of their snake bites.  But because he loves us, God wants the whole human being to be healed, both internally and externally.

The Sword simply can’t do this. 

Greg Boyd says it best, I think:

“The power of the sword…can never transform a person’s inner being.  While the use of the sword tends to deepen the resolve of the punished rather than transform it, Jesus’ aim was to transform hearts and, by that means, transform the world.”[1]

The Kingdom of the World, you see, wields the Sword.  The Sword gives us the ability to control these external factors, which very honestly make life easier for us much of the time.  It is something that is reliable, and for the most part manageable, and we like that in the world.  When the Sword is applied to Government, it makes laws, and punishes lawbreakers.  With our vote, we can even have a say in which laws are created.  

But we don’t just apply the sword to Government; it happens all the time with Religion as well.  I recently came across a list of rules that one Christian High School has for its students.  It had lots of stuff like “No physical touch between the sexes.”  I think there were about  thirteen paragraphs concerning the length and type of clothing girls are allowed to wear.  What really amused me was this one: “Any behavior that is not consistent with the Bible will not be tolerated.”  Really?  Well, have fun figuring that one out…

You see, this is an example of the sword, manipulation, control.  Sure this helps to get us the results of external compliance, but what we see time and time and time again is that kids who grow up in these environments often end up rebelling against that oppressive religious regime.  Sure these kids don’t look like they are ‘sinning’ on the outside, but they were not healed on the inside.  Their appearance of healing was superficial and caused by fear of punishment.  And when they get out on their own, once that fear is removed, so is their ‘good’ behavior.  They have not been healed, because they have not been Loved.  They have not been loved, because they have not been shown the Cross. 

Now, I don’t want to say that rules and laws and everything that goes along with the Sword should necessarily be done away with absolutely.  If I was older and wiser, maybe I would say that.  As for now, I think maybe it is something that is needed sometimes.  Maybe a balance needs to be found.  But what I think I can say with confidence is this: it is not the ideal.  If used at all, the Sword must ever be a last resort, and never be our default mode. 

That said, it remains true that rules and punishment can only promise external change.  It may often bring better tangible and certain ‘results,’ but the change it brings is not lasting, and it is caused out of fear of suffering—fear of the Cross that we are threatening them with!—and that has got to bother a people who are disciples of the one who was on the receiving side of the Cross.

In Jesus “lifted up” on the Cross, we see a loving King who does not rape, but woos. The Sword can only command us externally, but the Cross can captivate our hearts.  The King on the Cross shows us love, respects our freedom, and inspires and awakens the Kingdom of God from within us.  When our hearts are freely his, everything else follows.   This is a change that, unlike the extreme external discipline of that Christian school,  remains even when fear of punishment is lifted.  It is a change that has the quality of “eternity”—it has an “eternal” kind of life to it. 

The Cross is not as certain, and not as “safe” in the way the world prefers; in fact it is risky.  But Jesus tells us that risk is not necessarily a bad thing, because life results from death, just as a fruit-bearing plant results from the death of a seed. Jesus not only tells us this, but he shows it to us on the Cross, when He is lifted up, and brings healing, and draws all people to Himself.

The Martinez family used to have a quiet, comfortable life, living in a beautiful home, secluded in the Colorado mountains.  But in 2000, they decided to trade their comfortable life for a home in one of the most violent and troubled neighborhoods in Albuquerque, NM.  This was a neighborhood flooded with drugs, and prostitution, and gang violence.   

Why did they move?  Because they—even their kids, all younger than 15, wanted to bring change and healing to these people. 

In an interview with the children, the girls said that it was scary sometimes because there would always be people walking through their yard, and there were shootings.  One time, they said, their dad got beat up by a gang.  The gang took him, and beat him senseless with 2x4s and beer bottles.  He came back to his wife, bruised and bloody, and her reaction was, “We are not going to lose this.  We are going to stay here, this is our calling, our purpose.” 

Instead of turning them into the police, the family reached out to the attackers.  They made friends with them, loved them, welcomed them into their home, and by becoming completely vulnerable to these people, they inspired change within them.  The crime rate in that neighborhood has now dropped 50%.

This is the way of the Cross.  It does not make us as safe and comfortable as the Sword does, but is often risky and painful.  We can’t control the results of the Cross, because transformation can only happen when the Holy Spirit gives them eyes to see its worth.  Many people will walk away unchanged, just like they walked away from Golgotha with a hardened heart.  In others, change may happen, but we will never see it because it doesn’t happen right away.  The world demands to see results, but we cannot live that way if we follow the Cross.

And a lot of times, people will look at what we have done through the Cross, and they’ll only see how they have ‘played’ us, and they’ll walk away saying, “See ya sucker.”

I’m never going to see the results of my little encounter with Camero guy.  I seriously doubt it will have any results, because I did not bear the Cross in love like I should have.  I didn’t want to inspire him to greatness out of my love, I just wanted to make him feel like trash for lying to me.  I essentially turned the Cross into a club, and beat the guy over the head with it—that’s just another version of the Sword.  I was the victim, and I made him a victim as well.

But if I would have practiced the Cross out of love, neither of us would have been the victim.  I would not have been a victim because, just as G.K. Chesterton once said, “You cannot defeat the Cross, for it is defeat.”  The Cross turns victim into victory.  But much more important than me not being the victim is this.  If I would have practiced the Cross, this last Tuesday morning at 5:15 AM, Adam Langley might have died a martyr’s death, a death that bears witness to the beautiful life-giving Grace of God. 

The Cross is not just about not using the sword.  It is about dying, dying a kind of death that—like the death of a seed—might have sprung forth life out of the dead soil of that guy’s heart. 

As agents of the Kingdom of God, we have to let the question remain in our minds on constant vigil: Is this the way of the Cross or the Sword?  Am I trying to coerce the Kingdom to happen externally through strength and determination of the sword? Or am I trying to inspire the Kingdom to happen internally through the love and sacrifice of the Cross?  In what instrument am I placing my hope and my trust?  Do I find my hands with a hammer?  Or do I find my hands with nails?