“The manner in which he died”

Mark 15:33-39

Pastor Tom Johnson, March 29, 2015

This morning we listened to an extended reading of Jesuss suffering and death. Following this story carefully, we too are now witnesses of Jesus’ Passion and death. Peter looked on from a distance. Simon of Cyrene carries the Cross shoulder to shoulder with Jesus. The two other men crucified with Jesus are within conversational distance. And Jesus’ faithful female disciples are at a distance including Mary Magdalene and Mary the mother of James the younger. But it is the centurion who has the best seat in the house. From beginning to end, he witnesses this sick and sadistic display and abuse of power. He carries out his orders of crucifixion. He helps the Roman authority drive fear and terror deep into the hearts of the people whose land they possess.

The centurion is, our Scripture says, standing right in front of Jesus. In fact, the New Testament language here is wonderfully awkward. It says something like “the centurion stood beside opposite Jesus.” Usually, to stand opposite another person carries a negative connotation. That is to say, the centurion stands against, opposed, or contrary to Jesus—which he most certainly did. It was by his hands that Jesus is nailed to the Cross. But at the same time, he stands right next to Jesus. He stands face to face with Jesus but looking straight up toward the execution he is supervising. He stands opposite Jesus and he stands alongside Jesus. British Pastor and theologian N.T. Wright describes the centurion in this way: “A battle-hardened thug in a Roman uniform, used to killing humans the way one might kill flies” (from Mark for Everyone, p. 216).

The tragic reality is that crucifixions were frequent and routine in the areas of the world occupied by the Roman. I suspect it is hard for any of us to imagine that Jesus was just one of thousands who were executed in this cruel and unusual way. Crucifixion had become an art and a science to those who invented a form of capital punishment designed to maximize pain, discomfort, suffocation, thirst, and public humiliation; and, at the same time, making it possible for the condemned to survive for days at a time in their prolonged agony. The centurion probably had seen it all—so he thought. But that day, he encounters Jesus. He stands opposite and facing the son of a carpenter from the region of Nazareth. There he stands beneath the mocked, beaten, and dying Jesus with an inscription above him which read “King of the Jews.”

Can you see yourself in this centurion—this nameless soldier just doing his job for god and country? I can. Have we not seen enough injustice in this world—enough death at the hands of mentally ill pilots, street violence, and killings in the name of God in just the past week to become a little battle-hardened. “Again?” I say to the radio, TV, or newspaper, “Another suicide killing? Another group of people who believe they are honoring and glorifying their god by their brutality?” After a while, 150 doesn’t sound like a big number as the powers and principalities of this world kill people off who bear the image of God like flies. We begin to see death as routine. “Just part of life,” you’ll hear people say.

The centurion is an expert at watching people struggle against death on the battlefield. And, in his time in Jerusalem, he becomes an expert at watching people struggle against death in this barbaric form of capital punishment. But the centurion also knows courage, strength, loyalty, and sacrifice on the battlefield. And as he stands face to face with Jesus, that is what he sees—courage, strength, loyalty, and sacrifice. He did not see someone afraid of death, struggling powerlessly, or crying for vengeance. He sees another soldier fighting the good fight. He sees a commanding King who was leading the battle against injustice, evil, and sin. The manner in which Jesus dies is sermon in and of itself. The way in which he dies speaks powerfully and clearly to this “battle-hardened thug in a Roman uniform.” And the words that follow out of his mouth is one of the greatest confessions of faith in all the Bible: “Truly, this man was the Son of God!” He uses a title reserved for the Roman emperor himself, “son of God,” and hails Jesus not just King of the Jews but King of heaven and earth.

“Truly, this man was the Son of God!” The centurion’s profession of faith provides a thread that connects the dots of the whole story of Jesus. At Jesus’ Baptism the voice of God the Father speaks from heaven, “You are my beloved Son. With you I am well pleased!” (Mark 1:11). At Jesus’ transfiguration when the disciples get a glimpse of his blinding glory, the Father says again from heaven, “This is my beloved Son; listen to him” (Mark 9:7). And now God speaks this same truth through the lips of “a battle-hardened thug in a Roman uniform.” “Truly, this is the Son of God!” This is the faithful Savior who dies—who confronts death face to face—who conquers sin, evil, and death itself—who courageously wins the battle for you and me—the one who cries forgiveness—the one who assures us of eternal life even when he is on the cross—the one who powerfully transforms even the most battle-hardened thugs like you and me.

“We wish to see Jesus”

John 12:20-24

Pastor Tom Johnson, March 22, 2015

In our Gospel today, Greeks want to see Jesus. They are the non-Jewish believers from all around the world. These pilgrims are in Jerusalem for a feast. Their time is limited. They hear about Jesus and want to meet Him. So they tell Philip, one of the twelve disciples, “We wish to see Jesus.” They may want to see a miracle. Jesus just raised Lazarus from the dead. They may want to see Jesus to hear his teaching with authority and power. Whatever the case, they want to have their own experience with Jesus.

Years ago, someone very close to me made a similar request. She was struggling with the teachings of the Christian faith. She wanted to know if all the stories about Jesus were true. She wanted to validate the Bible. And so, she prayed, “God, if You are really out there, appear to me in my room tonight. I’ll believe if I see You with my own two eyes.” She sat up on her bed and waited…and waited…and waited. Jesus was a no-show. God did not answer her prayer and request as she wanted. She began to cry bitter tears that night. She was now and still convinced that Jesus was a phony—a big lie—that it was impossible for Jesus to be both God and human. He couldn’t even answer a child’s simple request. She gave up any hope that Christianity is a true religion—and she hasn’t looked back for decades. I wish that her experience was rare. But it isn’t. The truth is that we’re a lot like the Greeks of our text. We also wish to see Jesus. We want visible, tangible proof that He is. And we too may feel denied—like God is not there—that He is giving us the silent treatment and the cold shoulder.

For some of us, it may be that we just want our faith to be strengthened. We just want more spiritual reality in our lives. For others of us, it may be that we are testing God—that we will not believe God unless we see some evidence that will satisfy our longing. But Jesus is no one’s personal wonder-worker. He is not there for our every beck and call. He is God. Did you notice in our Gospel reading. Jesus does not give the Greeks a personal meeting. They may never see Jesus—at least not with their sense of sight. In fact people do see Jesus and his signs and wonders. But they do not believe. Just a few verses after our Gospel reading it says, “Though [Jesus] had done so many signs before them, they still did not believe in Him.” (12:37).

But Jesus does give something for the Greeks to hear: he says, “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.” This, dear friend, is the language of the Cross. It’s the Gospel. Soon the world will see Jesus die and buried in the ground alone just as a seed by itself looks lifeless—a single kernel of grain. We see death with our eyes—but we know there is life life there. Soon farmers all over the Midwest and the northern hemisphere will bury seed in the ground will full confidence it will spring to life. Shortly after Easter we will not be surprised to see green leaves rising out of the ground as we drive through the countryside or look at our gardens. We will be be no less surprised that Jesus will rise and live again.

If we wish to see Jesus—if we really want to know the Gospel truth—if we really want true comfort, strength, and courage—if we really want proof of God’s love, we look with the eyes of faith to Jesus who died and rose for us. It never becomes dull because of the richness and depth of that message. “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.” The fruit of the Gospel is you and me. He died for the forgiveness of our sins. His rose for our eternal life. And the fruit of His death and resurrection will keep sprouting and giving for all eternity.

Confirmands, parents, sponsors, Christian sisters and brothers, the world wishes to see Jesus. And you and I are the fruit they taste and see that the Lord is good. We are the embodiment of the Gospel. Grant, we see Jesus in you—as the Old Self has been washed away with the water, the Word and the Holy Spirit. Young women and men, we see Jesus in you as you confess your faith, confirm your Baptism, and journey forward in the strength of the Gospel. I see Jesus in your life. I hope you see him through mine as we journey together to the New Jerusalem—sins forgiven, bearing fruit for our Savior, and with the assurance of an eternal feast in the company of all those who have and will place their faith in Jesus when we will see the glory of our Lord and Savior face to face.

“Miserable Sinners”

Ephesians 2:1-10

Pastor Tom Johnson, March 15, 2015

I wonder if you feel the same way I do when we confess our sins together in our worship: “I, a poor, miserable sinner.” I am not just a sinner but a miserable sinner. It may sound medieval to our ears—out of fashion or, even worse, self-degrading. “Amazing grace how sweet the sound that saved a wretch like me.” It is the kind of diagnosis none of us wants. We are sinners, miserable sinners, and poor wretches one and all. What benefit could come from such sin-talk? How can such an honest and transparent reflection of our fallen, human nature actually build us up? To be sure, we do not want to bring further harm or injury to anyone including ourselves. But if we increase our understanding of the depth of our sinfulness—if we plummet the dark crevices of our broken humanity—we will discover a truth that will not drag us further down. It will lift us up.

“You were dead through the trespasses and sins” our Scripture says—not sick, swooned, or even comatose—but dead. We all have lived captive to the power of evil and darkness. We all have lived for self-pleasure. We are all “children of wrath.” That is to say, we deserve God’s wrath and anger. As we also confessed our sins, “[I] justly deserved your temporal and eternal punishment.” As the prayer of the day says, “we deserve only punishment.” This is where we need to be very careful. How we understand this language is a game-changer. To understand our sin and what it deserves should not lead us to a more terrifying view of God. To say that God has every right to punish us for our sins here and forever does not mean that we have a god who wants to. To portray God as wrathful and vengeful is a tragic error. It is false teaching. It is heresy. “We were by nature children of wrath, like everyone else,” our Scripture says, “but God—but God, who is rich in mercy, out of the great love with which he loved us even when we were dead through our trespasses, made us alive together with Christ—by grace you have been saved.”

I believe Paul’s point in this beautiful Scripture is to say that by seeing the depths of our sin we discover the heights of God’s mercy and love. Deepening our understanding of our depravity should elevate our view of God’s grace. When God reveals his holy Name to Moses, he said of himself, “The Lord, the Lord, a God merciful and gracious, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love and faithfulness.” He is rich in mercy and great in love! We live in the poverty of our sins until we receive the riches of God’s mercy. We live in the wilderness of our trespasses until we encounter the greatness of God’s love. That is what mercy is. Mercy is not getting what we deserve. Mercy is God withholding punishment and anger. The wonderful news is that he has never wanted to give us what we deserve, punish, or be angry toward us to begin with. “For God so loved the world that he gave us his only Son.” God loves sinners. That’s why Jesus was born, live, died, and rose again—to reach out to miserable sinners like you and me, forgive us, and lead us to eternal life.

This leads me back to where we started: “I a poor, miserable sinner.” Don’t you love that word miserable? Did you notice that it isn’t in our Scripture? In fact, it is not a biblical word at all. It comes from the Latin miserābilis. But it is still a great word. It’s meaning does a good job in communicating the truth of day. Miserable does not mean sad or unhappy. It does not mean used goods. It does not mean worthless. It is based on the Latin verb to have mercy (miserior). Miserable is rooted in the mercy of God. It means exactly what it sounds like—the one to whom is able to receive mercy. A person who is miserable is the best candidate for the rich mercy and the great love of God. They are pitiable—potential recipients of the empathy, compassion, and pity of Almighty God. When we say were are poor, miserable sinners, we are making our appeal to God for his forgiveness telling him we are good candidates for the Gospel—and God is gets to shower us with his rich mercy and great love. When we pray kyrie eleison, “Lord, have mercy,” we do so confident that he will because God loves to have mercy on us miserable sinners.

"The Power of the Gospel"

Pastor Hicham Chehab
Salam Christian Fellowship
Preaching at First Saint Paul's
March 8, 2015

Listen to Sermon

Pastor Chehab tells his story growing up in the Islamic faith, radicalizing, and then discovering the power of the Gospel through the message of Jesus Christ.

“Cross Bearing”

Mark 8:31-38

Pastor Tom Johnson, March 1, 2015

Jesus says he must suffer many things, face rejection of the religious authority, be killed, and on the third day rise again from the dead. We are so used to this truth of Jesus suffering, death, and resurrection, the reaction Jesus get might surprise us. Peter is especially not happy about this plan. He pulls Jesus aside privately and scolds him. “You should not suffer like that! Your destiny should not be to die!” And Jesus rebukes him back as the adversary. If Jesus bearing his own cross offended Peter, how much more the news that Jesus calls us to bear our own crosses and follow where he leads? “If any want to become my followers,” our Lord says, “let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me.”

What does it mean to bear one’s own cross? This is no Hebrew Bible reference that the disciples would understand. Jesus is using their experience of seeing the many condemned under the Romans carrying their own crosses to their deaths. We begin with this gruesome reality in order to understand what it means to bear our own crosses. Rome had perfected crucifixion as a violent and painful form of execution. There was a whole script to how they carried out capital punishment. And it began with the individual carrying the horizontal beam of the cross publicly for all to see. It was Rome’s way of publicizing what they would do to you if you broke their laws or rebelled against their authority. The condemned would be paraded around the highly trafficked roads so that everybody would feel the terror and threat of Roman power.

To bear one’s cross was to literally embrace the instrument of one’s own death. To bear one’s cross meant to deliver the other half of the device engineered to prolong and intensify ones agony. It was a sadistic irony. It is the epitome of cruel and unusual punishment from beginning to end. To bear one’s cross means to feel the weight of death on your shoulders every step you take. It means to have the burden of anxiety and the constant reminder that death is closer every step you take.

Jesus had not yet borne his cross. By this saying, “Follow me [as I take up my cross],” Jesus predicts with gruesome detail how he will die. With this saying, “Take up your cross,” it might seem that Jesus is being metaphorical about the disciples bearing their crosses. But even Peter himself, history tells us, would bear his cross in Rome years later. But Jesus is also using the reality of cross bearing to speak metaphorically. That is to say, to bear his cross now—before he literally takes up the cross beam—is to live his life with the spiritual and emotional burden of the path ahead. Long before he ever will receive the sentence of death by crucifixion, Jesus will continue to live his life with humility, self-renunciation, and sacrifice. Every step he takes is a “no” to selfishness, pride, and worldly pleasure. Every step he takes was a “yes” to God’s plan, mission, forgiveness, and life for the world. This is an effective way to get our attention—to use such a vivid image as bearing one’s own cross in this life to truly be a follower of Jesus. It sobers our outlook on the journey ahead. This is not living life under the cloud and threat of death. This is moving forward knowing that there are formidable challenges along life’s journey ahead. We cannot sweep them under the carpet, bury our heads in the sand, or live in denial of the very real prospects of anxiety, pain, and suffering along the way.

Remember that Jesus included the words “and rise again” in his prediction. The end of this journey is not death, nothingness, and a blackout of our consciousness. The end of this journey is new life, a lavish feast, and eternal light in the company of the resurrected Jesus and the whole company of heaven. This path of the cross is not a death march. It is a procession through the valley of the shadow of death. It may be an unpleasant one but a necessary detour we must take because of our sin, the reality of evil, and the corruption of this present world. Remember that we are not going out into unchartered territory either. Jesus has borne his own cross ahead. He has blazed the trail clearly before us by his perfect life, death, and resurrection.

We follow in the wake of his greatness. We draw strength from his example. We are empowered by his self-sacrificing love. We are fueled by forgiveness. We move forward knowing that the end of the journey is eternal life. To live our lives without this assurance of God’s grace is not truly living. To die with confidence and trust in Jesus, who died and rose again for us, is not truly dying. Joan of Arc said, “One life is all we have and we live it as we believe in living it. But to sacrifice what you are and to live without belief, that is a fate more terrible than dying.” And so we take up our own crosses and follow Jesus. Our lives are saved. Our time is redeemed. As Jesus says in our text, “those who lose their life for my sake, and for the sake of the Gospel, will save their life.

Give strength and patience unto me  
To bear my cross and follow Thee.
Lord Jesus Christ, my God and Lord,
my God and Lord,  
In death Thy comfort still afford.