The Cross is Not Enough: Why the Christian Story Needs Easter

Five years ago yesterday, the reality of human mortality pierced my soul like a dark, cursed knife that causes no physical harm, but mortally wounds, nonetheless. Before dad died, death was an abstraction, a thing to be vaguely aware of, a philosophical problem to be discussed. Death was a rabid dog, sure, but one who lacked fangs.

Some of us are graced with a life that avoids the pain of death for decades. Some of us face it much earlier. But if there is one thing true about death, it is that none of us can escape it. Before our own deaths, we will all experience that deep puncture of the soul, that knife twisting and doubling us over in pain.

All of us.

We cannot hide.

And great art calls us out of our hiding…even if, at times, it has no solution.

For authors in particular, and therefore for we who enter their stories, death is the great narrative driver. Always the ultimate Dark One, death creates and destroys characters, manipulating plots, and at times leaving us in awe of its power. And so, in any great narrative, it is the one thing that must be defeated if the story is to progress. The grave cannot be the end of our stories.

In the narrative of contemporary Christianity, we are too quick to jump on Christ’s cross as that which secures the afterlife for us. We are waiting for eternity, waiting for the halos and the angels. We are waiting for, “Well done, good and faithful servant.”

But what good is the afterlife if death is not defeated? What good is a Messiah who stays in the grave? What difference does forgiven sins make if death still reigns? If we merely go to heaven when we die, then this world is not set right…it’s just forgotten. And if this world is not set right, then God loses! 

This is why the cross is not enough. This is why the Christian story needs resurrection. Because the resurrection says the Dark One cannot win. The cursed knife will be blunted…no, destroyed. The rabid dog with the deadly fangs will be put down. Evil and injustice will not merely cease to exist, they will be put to rights. Justice will prevail in the end, not merely because there will be an absence of evil, but because evil will be defeated.

We are waiting, not for an afterlife where we get to forget about this life. We are waiting for resurrection. A defeat of death, itself. An elimination of it’s power. A memory renewed so that all the death that ever was will be swallowed up in life…not forgotten, but set in a better context. In the context of a God who took on human skin, lived a life of justice in confrontation with evil, died at the hands of that evil, then resurrected from the grave in defeat of the powers of evil. He defeats death. He defeats evil, something we could never do on our own. And then enables us to turn around, and in the power of his Spirit, work for the defeat of death and the defeat of evil in our world.

Death is no abstraction. It is no philosophical concept. It drives our narrative as the great antagonist. But the resurrection of Jesus, soon to be seen, means that the grave is not the end of our stories. Because resurrection is also no abstraction or philosophical concept. It is the great protagonist. Or rather, the One who resurrected is the great Protagonist.

Your days are waiting…to end. But the end is now. Five years ago death became real to me. But in the five years since, resurrection life has become even more real.  Easter Sunday means there is more to the Christian story than the cross. In a sense, the cross is not enough. Without resurrection, our story goes nowhere…it’s a permanent tragedy.

Christ’s Authority to Give Eternal Life to All People: Thoughts on John 17:2

I was reading in Jesus’ prayer from John 17 this morning and came across a phrase my Reformed friends often use to point to election, “For you (the Father) grant him (Jesus) authority over all people* that he might give eternal life to all those you have given him.” (NIV)

I’ve heard John Piper and others talk about this phrase as incontrovertible evidence that the writer of John’s gospel was, indeed, a Calvinist.

I think this verse can be read that way. And in that sense, I wan to be respectful to my Reformed friends.

Nevertheless, I don’t think it has to be read that way. I fact, I think this very verse helps us see an alternative interpretation.

The sentence is divided into 2 phrases: 1. For you grant him authority over all people, and 2. that he might give eternal life to all those you have given him.

If I understand them right, my Reformed friends essentially say that phrase 2 refers to a specific subset of phrase 1. In other words, there’s almost a sort of contrast between the two phrases. They could paraphrase the verses like this, “For you, Father, gave him, Jesus, authority over all people, but specifically, Jesus will give eternal life to only those the Father gave him.”

In this sense, my Reformed friends can maintain that Jesus is the lord of the world, while only being the savior of those whom God unconditionally elected.

But…

…as I said, I don’t think this has to be the only option. In fact, I see no reason to see these phrases as contrasting. Nor do I think phrase 2 refers to a specific subset of phrase 1. And I see no reason to assume the “all” in phrase 2 refers to anything less (qualitatively or quantitatively) than the “all” in phrase 1.

Instead of a contrast, I see a synonymous parallelism.

The parallelism is established by the usage of two key words used in both phrases:  “gave/di,dwmi,” and (as already noted) “all.”**

If the statements are synonymous parallels and not in contrast, then the two phrases essentially become equal: God gave all flesh = all those the Father gave Jesus.

Let me paraphrase John 17:2 like this, “For you, Father, gave him, Jesus, authority over all flesh in order that he might give eternal life to those over whom the Father gave him authority.”

Or, let me say it one other way…

“For you, Father, gave Jesus authority over all flesh in order that he might give eternal life to all flesh.”

The authority Jesus has is SPECIFICALLY FOR THE PURPOSE of bestowing eternal life. That’s the point Jesus is making. And assuming I’m right in this, why in the world would God give him authority to give eternal life to all, but then not give him all for the purpose of eternal life? That just would not make sense.

In other words, I think this verse only makes coherent sense of Jesus’ authority and God’s gifting if, and only if, the statements are intended to by synonymous parallels.

 

So, there you go. I’m not sure if I’m right. I haven’t found a commentator to agree with me…which is always a good sign and a bad sign. So, tell me what you think.

 

* “People” is not John’s word in the Greek. John’s word is sa,rx – flesh.

*Two different Gk. words are used for “all,” but both refer to an all encompassing or holistic reality. In other words, I don’t see any exegetical significance to the word choice here. I think it’s just to break up the monotony. John does that sometimes.

Prayer As Engagement, Not Escape

I’ve always imagined when I’m praying that my spirit is transferred up to the throne room of God in that moment. That while my body is kneeling beside my bed or driving in my car, my spirit is raptured into the holy of holies, into the presence of God…who is there, but not necessarily here. 

For several years now, however, I’ve been increasingly convinced that the biblical idea of “Kingdom of Heaven” is a very this worldly reality. That the incarnation, death, and resurrection of Jesus in this world means that the Kingdom of Heaven is not elsewhere, but present and active here. 

It’s funny how paradigm shifts tend to take a while to apply.

The implications of the hereness of the Kingdom of Heaven immediately convinced me that a place called Heaven is not the ultimate goal of the Christian life. But up until recently my imagination in prayer still took me up to a remote, distant, heavenly throne room.

Reading this morning in the Sermon on the Mount (Jesus’ most explicit delineation of the Kingdom of Heaven!), I saw the error of my praying ways. Jesus prays for God’s will to be done on earth as it is in heaven.

The implication here is that prayer, like church gatherings, aren’t mini Christian vacations into heaven. They are not temporary forays into the next life or another world. Prayer, like church gatherings, are a full engagement with this world. Prayer takes place within and for this world. It does not long for a time to escape, it is an expression of a soul already fully engage in God’s redemptive purposes for this world. I love how Eugene Peterson says it, “Prayer is not an escape from what is going on around us. It is gutsy participation in every earthly detail.”

If heaven is God’s throne, then earth is his footstool. And I can pray at His footstool because that’s where God’s feet touch our ground.

When Light and Life are Extingished, Love Must Ignite.

I’m working on my sermon on Jesus washing the disciple’s feet in John 13. Structurally, it’s the opening scene that leads to the cross, in John’s gospel.

And I’ve come across some interesting verbage stats…

For the first 12 chapters, the words light and life appear in John’s gospel a combined 82 times.

But from chapter 13 on, the words occur a combined 6 times.

So the light and life are being extinguished as the story moves toward the cross.

BUT

 

In the first 12 chapters, the word love occurs only 6 times. But in chapters 13-17, alone, he uses the term 31 times.

So even as light and life are being extinguished, John’s emphasis on love grows.

Tell me there’s not some awesome spiritual realities happening there! This  Jesus who washes the feet of a man about to betray him to death, is saying in word and deed that even as our enemies extinguish our life and light, our love should be ignited!

Attracting Lightening Bugs

Your fire will attract lightening bugs. If you are impassioned by Bible study, you will attract others who want to study the Bible. If you are impassioned by service, servant hearted people will be drawn to you. If you are impassioned by hospitality, you might find that others are in need of welcome. If you are impassioned by the environment, the Tree Huggers will cling to you like smog over New York City.

Your passions are what attract people to you. They are a source of refreshment and encouragement to others. They reveal see a heart set aflame by the Holy Spirit, who is the giver of passions. A good  leader is a leader who knows and leverages his/her passions for the good of the community.

So what lights you on fire? What gives you more fulfillment and excitement than anything else? What makes your faith light up? What so impassions you that people are attracted to you when you’re doing it?

The world doesn’t need more leaders going through the hum-drum motions. The world needs to see leaders moved by a passion for something specific and unique. They need to see leaders who see God in their passions, who see God in the things that set their hearts on fire.

Your fire will attract lightening bugs. So don’t be afraid to light yourself on fire. You might be surprised what will happen.

What Basketball Taught Me About Preaching #4: Always Warm Up

When you don’t warm up well before a game, at best you’re going to get off to a slow start. At worst, that’s when injuries happen.

I learned that to my detriment recently – At 33 years old, I just can’t go out and play without stretching like I used to. One torn hamstring was all I needed to teach me this lesson.

It’s the same in preaching. You need to be so thoroughly familiar with your sermon before you stand up to preach that nothing injurious, distracting, random, or un-thought-out comes out of your mouth.

For me, that means I have to manuscript. I have the ability to improvise while I’m up there. But if I let it, this ability would get in the way of a good, quality sermon. So I manuscript now so that, if I do improvise, I still make sure that the rest of my material is memorized so I don’t fumble all over myself when I want to come back to it.

You may not need that much accountability. I understand that I may be extreme in that need. Nevertheless, never stand up on stage only having a general idea of what you’re going to say. Whether it’s an individual point or the entire sermon, you need to have a detailed plan of where you’re going.

Bullet points aren’t enough. You need to know how you’re going to get that bullet point across. And that means you’re going to need to warm up by thinking and talking through each point of your sermon many times before you actually deliver it.

Know where you’re going! Practice it. Practice it. Practice it. And on Sunday morning, warm up by going over it a couple more times. It’ll prevent injuries – to both you and your audience.

I feel like the Harlem Globetrotters could teach us a little something about warming up: 

When the Tables Get Reversed in Hell

In the parable of the Rich Man and Lazarus (Luke 16:19-31), Jesus continues his emphasis on this-worldly hospitality’s intimate connection with next-worldly rewards or retribution. I will probably write more on my thoughts on this in the next few days, but as a preliminary discussion, there was something really interesting I observed in the text that I’d like your thoughts on.

The Rich Man and Lazarus have died and gone into the afterlife – Hades, the realm of the dead. But in Hades there seems to be a compartment where the righteous are collected to Abraham’s side, living in comfort. But the wicked are away from Abraham’s side (across a great chasm) in a place of torment.

On the far side of the chasm, the Rich Man looks up and sees Abraham and Lazarus with him. In his torment, he commands (!) Abraham, “Father Abraham, be merciful to me and send Lazarus to get me some water.”

The command to have Abraham “send” Lazarus was initially just interesting to me. I could have read implications into it, but didn’t…at first.

But then I noticed it again in vs. 27, “Send* Lazarus to my father’s house, for I have five brothers.”

That twice the Rich Man tries to get Abraham to “send” Lazarus peeked my interest.

It seems to me, not only is the Rich Man incredibly presumptuous, even in eternal torment, to assume he can command Abraham to do anything. But even more presumptuous, he still assumes Lazarus is beneath him. He is treating Lazarus like a servant, a slave, a messenger boy, someone to do his bidding…someone who only exists for my needs.

Even Abraham he treats as a lesser person. Though he calls him ‘Father,’ he assumes he can command Abraham to obey his imperatives. He even argues with Abraham and tells Abraham that he knows better about what his brothers will or won’t listen to, when it comes to revelation to his five brothers.

Even in his torment, this guy still clings to his supposed superior identity and superior status. And even Hades doesn’t change his attitude. Though he thinks Lazarus is a slave, it turns out he is a slave to himself.

Be careful how you treat people – especially people “beneath” you, people everyone else considers expendable, people everyone else overlooks, people everyone else wants to distance themselves from. The tables may very well be reversed someday.

So you tell me: Tell me about a person you know, who, despite their high status, has done a good job at reaching out toward those people who are “beneath” them? I’d love to have a few models for this. 

*This second time, the Greek verb is a subjunctive, not an imperative, but that’s a little aside from my point here.

What Basketball Taught Me About Preaching #3: 3 Pointers Aren’t Always Necessary

I’m in love with the 3 point shot in basketball. Reggie Miller is my favorite player of all time, followed closely by Larry Bird.

In days yonder, when I had the time, I used to shoot hundreds of 3′s a day.

This obsession with 3 pointers, though, actually blinded me at moments. Anytime the game was on the line and my team was down by two, I wanted to go for the win with a 3 pointer.

But going for the win with a 3 pointer isn’t always the best basketball play. While the 3 pointer is glorious, when the game is on the line and you’re down by two, the best basketball play is to drive the lane for the tie and try to get fouled and thereby get your 3 pointer “and-one” style at the free throw line. When the three pointer works, it is, of course, amazing. But it doesn’t always work. And it’s often counterproductive. Getting to the free throw line and winning the game on point at a time is the best basketball play. 

I don’t think three point sermons are inferior or immature in any way. There are preachers who have made great use of them time and again. In fact, there is an entire generation of preachers that were trained to preach this way: “3 points and a poem.”

I think this kind of preaching has it’s place, and can often win the game.

But I also want to contend that, valuable as they are, 3 point messages don’t always win on Sunday mornings. Sometimes the best thing to do is get in the lane, get fouled, and try to win the game at the line – one point at a time.

If your sermon has one, clear, well stated point, your audience is a lot more likely to walk away remembering what you said and knowing how to apply it.

I’ve heard a ton of 3 point sermons in my life. And I’m sure they’ve been helpful to me. But I don’t remember any of them. 

But when I’ve heard 1 point sermons, with that point clearly articulated, I remember them so much longer and more easily. 

Andy Stanley says it this way, “If you have three points, you have three sermons.” I think he’s right.

Sometimes 3 pointers win the game. But more often than not, getting to the free thow line and shooting for the win one point at a time is the way to go.

It’s a shame Reggie can’t help us shoot game winning 3′s. 

Musings on the Message #8: The Word Made Flesh

Christian preaching is sacramental.

What I mean here by “sacramental” is that when Christian preaching occurs Christ is both proclaimed and proclaiming. Christ is present in the sermon. The sermon is the means by which He is revealed as present to the congregation. Every time Christ is preached people can leave the service announcing that they heard Christ on this day – they heard him preaching.

The preacher and the Word made flesh are brought into a sacramental union during the proclamation in such a way that, though Christ uses the preacher’s voice, it is Christ Himself proclaiming Himself.

But Christ is also in the congregation. The Spirit of Christ dwells within them and when it hears Christ proclaim himself, the Spirit desires to respond and accept the word.

Christ’s presence within the sermon, the preacher, and the congregation is one often overlooked and lost in our homiletical theology and ecclesiology. But without it, I don’t think the sermon is either preachable nor hearable.

In a church world where preaching is reduced to entertainment and audiences are reduced to passive recipients, a sacramental view of preaching provides an avenue by which we can once again begin to take preaching seriously both as speakers and hearers. And more than that, I think it’s another avenue by which preaching can regain a place at the worship table as a necessary aspect of Christian worship – not just a boring afterthought to the cool music.

Preaching is at it’s best when speakers and hearers deem it important to abandon themselves to the Triune God and dwell in His narrative of creation, redemption, and consummation. A narrative proclaimed, embodied (sacramentalized), and given life in the sermon.

What Basketball Taught Me About Preaching #2: Assists are Good

You have teammates. Pass to them. Let them pass to you. You know you’re watching amateur basketball when one guy is hogging the ball and the rest of the team is standing around watching.

All your ideas don’t have to be original. Bounce your ideas off of your pastor friends. Take their ideas and dunk them. Let them take yours, too.

The only rule here: Be sure to put a tally on their stat sheet by citing them if you get an assist from them. But otherwise be sure to have good ball movement. A team that doesn’t pass is a team that won’t win.

Steve Nash can assist you.