The comfort behind Good Friday

Part of what made the deaths of Gandhi, Kennedy, and King — and others through the years — such tragic experiences was the sudden, unexpected shock of the news. It was one thing to lose the inspirational leader. Add to that the loss of a sense of predictability or stability in the world. If this could happen even to them, what assurance do any of us have?

It's hard enough to go on after a profound loss. How does one go on without an assurance that it's possible to go on?

This is another reason why the death of Jesus is different. This was not some unexpected tragedy that deprived the world of an important voice for compassion and charity. This was not a beneficent life cut short. This was a beneficent life completed and fulfilled.

That's part of the power behind the truth "that Christ died for our sins according to the Scriptures." The Presbyterians reading that from the 1970s WorshipBook would understand that as something like "as we read it in the gospels." But that could not have been what was in Paul's mind. Except for a possible early Aramaic version of Matthew, there would have been no gospels to read. They hadn't been written yet.

"The scriptures" for Paul and the other early Christians were the writings of the prophets and sages. They were the books of the Old Testament. (Though I find myself quite drawn to Marva Dawn's term First Testament.) And they were written at least four centuries before the crucifixion.

Those writings described some of what would happen. Their focus, though, was on what those events would mean for God's people. Their focus was on how the wounds of the Messiah would bring healing. Their focus was on the spiritual benefits that flowed from that sacrifice.

To say "Jesus died for our sins according to the scriptures" was to offer a double comfort. First, the visible events happened just as predicted. The world is not spinning out of control. God is still in charge. He knew this moment was coming and he has prepared for it. The future is still secure in God's hands.

Second, this death was "according to the scriptures" in its spiritual benefits as well. If the visible events played out just as predicted, then we can be sure the invisible spiritual realities happened as predicted as well. The prophet who correctly predicted the fact of the wounds has also correctly predicted the outcome of those wounds. In those wounds, we are healed.

In that we can find comfort for today and confidence for tomorrow.

A defining moment: Good Friday

"Here we have Christianity reduced to 12 hours, the least interesting 12 hours of Jesus's life, religiously speaking." That's how William Schweiker, University of Chicago theological ethics professor, described Mel Gibson's movie The Passion of the Christ.

The suffering and death of Jesus may be "the least interesting" to Prof. Schweiker, but the church closest to Jesus did not share that judgement. "Christ died for our sins"is part of the essential tradition Paul passed on to his students "as of first importance." It is clearly an important plank in the gospel on which "we stand and by which we are saved."

For many today, Jesus was a wandering folk pastor, dispensing inspiration and challenge in clever parables and memorable sayings. The core of his teaching was a call to reject religious formalism and embrace love for each other. The death of Jesus, in this view, was the sad end of a hopeful life cut tragically short. And in this view, a movie like The Parables of the Christ would be more interesting, religiously speaking.

The early church did not share that evaluation. They embraced the cross as a central image of what Jesus meant. They celebrated Jesus as the Lamb of God who took away the sin of the world. Far from being the "least interesting" part of his earthly ministry, these final hours were the culmination, the fulfillment, the climax of that earthly ministry.

Consider some other famous assassinations of wise teachers of recent memory. Mohandas K. Gandhi on Friday, January 30, 1948. John F. Kennedy on Friday, November 22, 1963. Martin Luther King, Jr., on Thursday, April 3, 1968. People don't celebrate these deaths as Good Thursdays or Good Fridays. These are days of tragedy, not celebration. They were days of loss, days of premature, violent ends of wise, inspiring leaders.

Good Friday was violent, far more so than those other days. But the church soon realized it was not just a day of loss. It was a day when something important was gained. For Jesus did not simply die, "Christ died for our sins." As Peter put it, "He himself bore our sins in his body on the tree, so that we might die to sins and live for righteousness; by his wounds you have been healed." 1 Peter 2:24 (NIV)

Other deaths are simply times of loss, but the death of Jesus was more than that. Somehow his death "for our sins" gave us a powerful spiritual benefit. And so, the early church found something worth celebrating in that. Celebrating with sadness, to be sure, but still celebrating.

If Jesus were simply an itinerant teacher offering insights into ancient wisdom, then his death would have been profoundly uninteresting. But he was more than simply a teacher. He is the Lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world. Those hours of his suffering and death, far from being "least interesting," are really the beginning of what makes his earthly ministry unique, special, and valuable.

The defining moments are coming

In the early 70s, Presbyterians in the United States published a new Worshipbook. Its “Service for the Lord’s Day” included a new creed, which in the congregation I attended was called simply the Contemporary Statement.

This is the good news which we received, in which we stand, and by which we are saved: that Christ died for our sins according to the Scriptures, that he was buried, that he was raised on the third day; and that he appeared to Peter, then to the Twelve and to many faithful witnesses.
We believe he is the Christ, the Son of the Living God. He is the first and the last, the beginning and the end, he is our Lord and our God. Amen.

I have always been rather impressed with the simplicity and power of that statement. For me, at least, it was also quite memorable. A few years later, I chanced to discover the first paragraph is a fairly close paraphrase of 1 Corinthians 15:1-6. Even more years later, I learned source critical analysis suggests this creedal snippet could be about the oldest text in the New Testament. It could be Paul’s quotation of a doctrinal formulation going back to the disciples in Jerusalem.

This is almost certainly only part of the theological heritage Paul received and passed on in his ministry. Speculating about what might or might not have been other parts of that heritage is an endless argument from silence. But we can be certain this was part of the doctrinal foundation of that earliest church.

It is a time of eager expectation in society as a whole as the days lengthen and the trees and plants begin to grow bright and green again. In the church, spring is still Lent, the time of the church year set apart to prepare for Good Friday and Easter. It should also be a time of awe-struck devotion for us: we prepare for the basic events that define the church as the church, for the events that make salvation possible.

The death on Good Friday, a death foretold by prophets whom God used to prepare the way. A sad Easter Saturday in the tomb. And a glorious Easter Sunday, when the triumph of the power of life is revealed for any who care to see.

People often try to build church unity for this great cause or to respond to that great need. And there are times for people to pull together in the short term. But has any more perfect platform for abiding Christian unity been written than these words from Paul?

Total depravity teaches humility, mercy… and hope

It takes a special kind of courage to love the doctrine of original sin. Too often over the years I've heard people say things like "I like that church; they don't focus on all that negative stuff like sin." But what a blessing we miss out on because we don't realize just what sin means. So it was quite refreshing to run across Rebecca Writes: Why I Love the Doctrine of Total Depravity.

Rebecca, who's from even farther north than I am, writes "An honest look at it [the doctrine of original sin] is the best antidote for pride." She notes it also helps us appreciate just how deep is God's love: "Knowing the depth of God's love comes only as I fathom how far he had to stoop to grasp me."

Building on Rebecca's blog entry, William G. Meisheid writes in his own blog, Beyond the Rim…,
"…the next time you are tempted to respond to a sinner with condescension, just remember that when push comes to shove it is Christ not your insipid purity that makes the distinction between you and them. Instead try and not just to receive but also to give 'mercy and find grace to help in time of need.' Hebrews 4:16"

The doctrine of original sin teaches us humility and gratitude. It helps us relate to others more mercifully and, I submit, faithfully. To this list I'd like to add a third benefit of the doctrine. It gives us a reason to hope for something better.

When I see my sin, when I see the unsavoury things I'd rather were not part of my life, I know one day they won't be. The promise of redemption is the promise of freedom from sin. In my sin I cry out "Who will free me from this body of death?" And I know that I will be rescued through Christ Jesus my Lord. (Check out the progression from Romans 7 through Romans 8, the progression from bondage to sin to freedom in glory.) That sin may be how I am, but it's not how I'm going to be.

To paraphrase John's language, we are the children of God, and what we will be is beyond imagining, except that we know one day we will be like Jesus. We will be purified just as he is pure. What a great day when that hope is fulfilled!

The Truth of the Gospel Is Jesus

Most school children grow up with the story of Aesop, famous for his clever and pointed fables. They may be as important in English and American culture as they were to the Greeks. Most of us have at least a few of the fables of Aesop planted in our memories. Maybe the Dog in the Manger, perhaps the Fox and the Crow, almost certainly the Tortoise and the Hare.

But who was Aesop? Most stories have him living in the 6th century BC. Some say he was a slave, others a mid- to senior-level civic leader; one tradition makes him an advisor to Croesus. The 2004 Encyclopaedia Britannica entry says, "An Egyptian biography of the 1st century AD places him on the island of Samos as a slave who gained his freedom from his master, thence going to Babylon as riddle solver to King Lycurgus, and, finally, meeting his death at Delphi."

There are lots of traditions describing how he lived, how he died, how he looked, and what he did. Ultimately, though it doesn't matter. The wisdom of the fables of Aesop does not come from Aesop. It does not matter whether he was socially prominent or simply a slave or maybe even, like Uncle Remus, a folklorist's invention to give narrative unity to a diverse collection of unrelated tales.

The fables of Aesop are not fables about Aesop but fables that come from Aesop. But even at that, Aesop himself does not matter. In these fables, the truth of the tale is in the telling, not the teller. Whether the stories originated from Aesop or Phaedrus or an anonymous village sage does not matter. The stories still have truth.

The gospel of Jesus Christ is different from the fables of Aesop. It is not a collection of wise sayings Jesus gave in parables and sermons and wondrous deeds. There is a kind of truth in those sayings, a kind of truth that is shared with wise sayings from many other sources. That truth is worth hearing. But the gospel of Jesus Christ is far more than the sayings of Jesus Christ.

The gospel of Jesus Christ is not a gospel from Jesus, it is the gospel about Jesus. The gospel of Jesus Christ is not the truth he told us, but the truth that he is. What is true about the gospel of Jesus Christ is true in his name. His wondrous birth that opens the way for us to have a new birth. His death as an offering for our sin. His resurrection to open the way of victory over death. The truth of the gospel of Jesus Christ is in the one who originally lived it.

Apart from Aesop the fables still stand. Apart from Jesus, there is no gospel.

Why I am called a Christian

A generation ago, people referred to the religion that dominates the Middle East as Mohammedanism and its followers as Mohammedans. The current edition of the American Heritage ® Dictionary of the English Language notes that usage is considered offensive. It's easy to understand why because that language severely distorts the teachings of Islam and its followers, Muslims.

Muslims protested the older usage because it suggested -- falsely -- they worshipped Muhammad. They do not. They worship the God Allah, and strive to follow the teachings Muhammad gave about the way of submission to Allah. It is blasphemy to equate Muhammad and Allah, as it would be to equate any human teacher with God.

For exactly the same reasons, though reversed, I embrace the terms Christianity and Christian. The faith I profess is not simply about worshipping a God known as Abba and following the teachings Christ gave about submitting to him -- though I strive to do that. I am a Christian because I seek to worship Jesus Christ. It is not blasphemy it is truth to equate Jesus with God, for Jesus was not simply a human teacher.