Echoes in Eternity

Here are some great suggestions for helping your kids understand and personalize Easter this Holy Week.

I don't know, but something about this just strikes me as missing the point. It makes me a bit nauseous, in fact. What do you think?

Picture yourself tied to a tree,
condemned of the sins of eternity.
Then picture a spear, parting the air,
seeking your heart to cut your despair.
Suddenly—a knight, in armor of white,
stands in the gap betwixt you and its flight,
And shedding his 'armor of God' for you—
bears the lance that runs him through.
His heart has been pierced that yours may beat,
and the blood of his corpse washes your feet.
Picture yourself in raiment white,
cleansed by the blood of the lifeless knight.
Never to mourn,
the prince who was downed,
For he is not lost! It is you who are found.

- taken from a B.C. 1996 Palm Sunday comic strip

This is an interesting article by a Jewish man who watched a Passion play and wrote on his experience. The last paragraph is particularly good, and reminded me of this.

I’m not a Christian. I don’t think Christ can save me, in part because I don’t think I need to be saved. But I appreciate that a lot of people... do. They believe that I’m destined to burn in hell for all of eternity if I don’t change my beliefs. So I don’t fault them for trying to change my beliefs, even if they use guilt or fear in their attempts. I’m much more offended by those who believe I’m headed for eternal damnation but don’t do anything about it {emphasis added}.

As we approach Good Friday and Easter, here are several links to help encourage you to take a fresh look at what transpired those few days so many years ago.

"Do Not Casually Enter This Garden" - This is something I wrote a year ago which spoke to me again this Easter week.

A Crucifixion Narrative - A powerful essay I came across last Easter which sheds a new light on Jesus' final moments of life.

The Betrayal of the Lamb - Yesterday's Palm Sunday sermon at my church.

We're still six weeks from Easter, but it's never too early to start preparing for it. Plus, it's healthy and important to always keep Golgotha and Jesus' sacrifice in view during the whole year.

With that in mind, here are 25 great essays centered around Christ's final days. Many of these were first given as sermons.

1 & 2. True Contemplation of the Cross (Martin Luther) and He Set His Face to Go to Jerusalem (John Piper)

3. An Innocent Man Crushed by God, by Alistair Begg

4. The Cup, by C. J. Mahaney

5. Gethsemane, by R. Kent Hughes

6. Betrayed, Denied, Deserted, by J. Ligon Duncan III

7. Then Did They Spit in His Face, by Charles Spurgeon

8. The Silence of the Lamb, by Adrian Rogers

9. The Sufferings of Christ, by J. C. Ryle

10. Father, Forgive Them, by John MacArthur

11. With Loud Cries and Tears, by John Owen

12. That He Might Destroy the Works of the Devil, Martyn Lloyd-Jones

13. I Am Thirsty, by Joseph “Skip” Ryan

14. God-Forsaken, by Philip Graham Ryken

15. Cursed, by R. C. Sproul

16. Into Your Hands I Commit My Spirit, by James Montgomery Boice

17. Blood and Water, by John Calvin

18. He Descended into Hell and Ascended into Heaven, by J. I. Packer

19. A Sweet-Smelling Savor to God, by Jonathan Edwards

20. The Most Important Word in the Universe, by Raymond C. Ortlund Jr.

21. Resurrection Preview, by Francis Schaeffer

22. Peace Be unto You, by Saint Augustine

23. Knowing the Power of His Resurrection, by Tim Keller

24. Sharing His Sufferings, by Joni Eareckson Tada

25. Crucified with Christ, by Stephen F. Olford

(HT: JT)

Tony Jones received quite the response to his denial of penal substitution (which he then backed off from in subsequent posts). In response, he made a few subsequent posts to defend himself and clarify his position on the matter. More accurately, he either changed his mind since Friday or, like a good postmodern, isn't willing to deny something even though he doesn't find it true or biblically accurate.

Yesterday, on Doug Pagitt's radio program, Pagitt and he further discussed this issue and specifically "cul-de-sac Calvinistas" (to use their term) who are on a dead end street of Christianity or something along those lines. Pagitt is actually the more intellectually honest or informed of the two. While Jones claims that the "New Calvinists" are just a small sect of Calvinism and that the larger, "true" movement of Calvinism wouldn't agree with the new guys on the block (like Piper, Driscoll, etc.), Pagitt disagreed and acknowledged that all Calvinists would affirm penal substitution atonement (PSA). That said, Pagitt is even more resolute in his dislike of PSA than Jones, even calling it something worth teaching against because it is "dangerous" to Christianity. So basically, Pagitt believes it's a false teaching. That in itself is quite the revelation: an Emergent claims that there is at least some truth and some lies. In that respect, Jones seems much more postmodern than Pagitt, not wanting to have any certainty about anything. It's an informative (if ultimately saddening) discussion...

Listen here.

UPDATE: For those coming here from Tony Jones' link, his martyrdom is unfairly or dishonestly grasped. Jones: "But because I don't afford the penal substitutionary theory the status of crushing all other atonement theories, I've become the scourge of the Reformed blogosphere." It wasn't for this reason that I (or those other bloggers on his list of fellow "Edict" givers) mentioned him. I have no problem with saying that there are many correct and useful atonement theories. The Bible affirms this view. However, Jones didn't just lower the importance of penal substitution, he flatly DENIED it.

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For years, the Emergent church leaders (Pagitt, McLaren, etc.) have done their very best to avoid talking doctrine or getting nailed down on any theological positions. But so far in 2009, it appears that they're turning over a new leaf. For the latest example, Tony Jones published this blog post on Good Friday. And it's not pretty...

One key to my understanding of the crucifixion is the beginning of Jesus' ministry. At about the age of 30, Jesus arrives at the Jordan River and is baptized by his cousin, John. He then retreats into the wilderness where, after a 40-day fast, he's tempted. Really tempted. That is, the result of Jesus' interaction with "the tempter" was not foreordained. Nor did Jesus know that he was divine in such a way that he wouldn't cave in to the temptations before him. Had Jesus been cognizant of his divinity, he would not have been truly tempted.

Some people today may find it compelling that some Great Cosmic Transaction took place on that day 1,980 years ago, that God's wrath burned against his son instead of against me. I find that version of atonement theory neither intellectually compelling, spiritually compelling, nor in keeping with the biblical narrative [emphasis mine].
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Instead, Jesus death offers life because in Christianity, and in Christianity alone, the God and Creator of the universe deigned to become human, to be tempted, to reach out to those who had been de-humanized and restore their humanity, and ultimately to die in solidarity with every one of us. Yes, he was a sacrifice. Yes, he was "sinless." But thank God, Jesus was also human.

The hope he offers is that, by dying on that cross, the eternal Trinity became forever bound to my humanity. The God of the universe identified with me, and I have the opportunity to identify with him.

Today, and every day, I hang with him on that cross.

I came across this sad story from the Phillipines, where Catholic Filipinos actually crucify themselves for a short time. Of the reasons listed were included "to honor God" and to "cure his cancer-stricken mother."

If only they knew that Christ paid it all by drinking every drop from that cup...

This actually made me nauseated.

Ah, the traditional rite of spring that is Easter: The resurrection of Christ, a nice bouquet of flowers, a brunch buffet...and a roundhouse kick to the face?

Yup, that's what the congregation at the Spirit of St. Louis Church in Arnold can expect next weekend. The church and its pastor Tom Skiles are hosting "Easter In the Octagon: The Ultimate Fighter."
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We called up Pastor Tom to confirm that this is not an April Fool's joke and find what, exactly, the sport that's been called "human dogfighting" has to do with Jesus' return from the grave.
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"The Ultimate Fighting is something we're doing to promote to the guys. We want to make Easter relevant again. We don't want to make it about lilies and nice dresses. When they walk in we'll have a chain link fence set up, it'll be set up like an octagon. We'll talk about fact that Jesus didn't tap out, he was an ultimate fighter."
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"We're doing Easter Smack Down for our kids. It's not going to be an egg hunt. It'll be a Smack Down. It'll be a cool event. Kids love wrestling. We got inflatable boxing ring and all that stuff."
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"We don't hold no bars. We make it so complicated and Christ wanted it to be simple. We like to laugh a lot in our Sunday experience. We do crazy stuff."

Lord, Lord, did we not roundhouse kick people into heaven in your name?

My worship music pastor preached a great message this past Sunday on how to see ourselves at the Cross. In short, we shouldn't see ourselves as John or Jesus' mother Mary, but as the hateful Pharisees, mocking thief, and laughing Romans. You can hear it here.

Gethsemane is not a field of study for our intellect. It is a sanctuary for our faith.

- Klaas Schilder

It is easy as we contemplate Palm Sunday, Good Friday, and Easter to focus on just the Crucifixion and the Resurrection. And not without good reason, as we witness a significant amount of Jesus' suffering on the cross and see His victory in the Resurrection. But, as Schilder pointed out, the Garden of Gethsemane is essential to understanding the whole of Christ's sacrifice. This is not something that I've realized in years past.

So let us consider the Garden...

Luke 22:39-46
John 14:30; 18:1
Matthew 26:36-46

The first thing we notice is that Jesus "began to be deeply distressed and troubled." Why now? Why has He been seemingly untroubled while his disciples were quite scared (Mark 10:32), even though He knew what was coming? He knew before time began what was in store for Him, yet at this particular moment as He's walking with His men up the Mount of Olives, He gets shaken. Perhaps, in a way, He is experiencing what David experienced in 2 Samuel 15:30 (the parallels are obvious, though I never noticed them before) when he went up that same Mount of Olives weeping a millennium earlier, fleeing from the rebellion of his son, Absalom. Perhaps, after those few years of reaching out to His people, the Jews, Jesus knows that the opportunity of salvation for them, His child, is lost and that they are now searching for Him to kill Him. As David before Him, He is experiencing the grief of seeing the one you love so much, and for whom you would die, wanting to murder you.

Looking down on Jerusalem from the Mount of Olives

CJ Mahaney gives another likely reason for Jesus' grief in his incredible sermon, "The Cup": He came to the Garden to spend some time with the Father and found hell instead of heaven. As one writer puts it, "It seems that particularly in Gethsemane Jesus was given a fuller understanding of the contents of the cup that he was to drink." He came to better see and realize just how horrible that cup was, filled with the FULL wrath of God against all the wretchedness of human sinfulness. He saw the wrath toward the Rwandan Tutsi who chopped up a small child with a machete. He saw the wrath toward me when I rebel against the Father by killing with my tongue and fornicating with my mind. He saw the wrath pouring out of God's holiness onto the German guard who gassed hundreds of Jews. He saw the wrath toward us all when we worship the creature and not the Creator. He saw all the wrath which the Father had stored up in His divine forbearance, the wrath that Jesus, as God incarnate, knew better than any man could ever know or fathom. As Frederick Leahy wrote in The Cross He Bore, this cup "carried the stench of hell." And it made Him collapse (Matt. 26:39).

Also, as John tells us in his gospel, Satan was there, offering Jesus one last temptation to avoid the cup. And Jesus, in that moment of extreme agony, did cry out to God asking for a solution that didn't require Him to drink from that Cup, even to its very dregs. He cried out to God as "Abba, Father," as a child cries out for his daddy. This reminds me of the young Jewish couple brutally murdered by Muslim terrorists a few years ago in Mumbai. At their funeral, their little son was inconsolable, crying out "Abba, Ima" throughout the service. It's a sign of deep intimacy and love to use "Abba" in reference to God, something that the Jews of the time would have found profoundly disrespectful. You don't call the Ancient of Days "daddy." That is, unless you are the Prince of Peace and God's Son who has existed as one with the Father for all eternity. "May this cup be taken from me" ... as Mahaney says, if it had been possible to attain the glory and joy set out before the dawn of time in some other way, the Father would have done it in an instant. "Yet not as I will, but what you will" ... Jesus rejects the temptation from Satan and begins to drink the cup, until not a drop was left when He uttered those words on the cross: "It is FINISHED."

One last reason that Jesus is in so much inner turmoil is likely the fact that THREE times his disciples fail Him when He needs them most. He keeps going back to them, both to remind them to pray earnestly as the Tempter is at hand and also so that He might receive sympathy and support in this last hour. But in their sleep, they have abandoned Him already. He merely asks them to pray for Him for one hour, yet they can't even do that. These men who have followed him for several years and have been His closest human friends don't even seem to care enough to ask His Father to strengthen Him in His need. He's desperate for support, yet everywhere He turns in heaven and on earth, He is rejected. In the movie "Changeling," an evil man is about to be hanged for murder and he begins to scream out to the people watching his execution, "A prayer! Please, someone say a prayer for me!" He is met with complete silence... and begins to quietly sing "Silent Night" as the noose is placed on his neck, knowing that He is (justly) forsaken by men and by God for his crimes. That chilling scene gives a glimpse of what the pure and Holy Lamb was experiencing as He approached His own death and damnation for crimes which He hadn't committed, nor would have ever dreamed of committing, yet was abandoned by those He loved most.

Praise to God that we don't have to drink that Cup! Instead of Jesus thrusting that Cup into our face, demanding that we drink that which we have earned, we are offered the sweet Cup of Salvation, from which we can drink for eternity and it will never dry up, never run out, and never turn sour. And may we pray as Leahy prays, "Lord, forgive us for the times we have read about Gethsemane with dry eyes."

Before Easter comes and we celebrate the Resurrection, may we first focus on the sacrifice and suffering of our King.

Then Jesus walks on beyond the city gates. It’s nine o’clock in the morning, Friday.

Through the steady rain Jesus glances up from the base of a rocky hill. It’s named Golgotha—the Skull.

At the top he sees several posts fixed in the ground. Three of those poles stand ready to receive their crossbeams and the tattered body of Jesus and the two criminals carrying their crosses behind him.

At the top of the hill the merciful centurion hands Jesus a cup. Jesus sniffs the liquid. It’s wine mixed with myrrh, a mild narcotic to dull the pain. But Jesus is meant to feel all the pain. So he hands the cup back. This is not the cup of the Father.
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Jesus now lays naked in the dirt. The dark man places the crossbeam by Jesus’ head. This time Jesus sees his face. It is Simon of Cyrene. Jesus knows him by name and did before there was time.

The beam becomes his pillow now. Two men take hold of his hands. The soldier on his left yanks his arm as far as it will go. But the soldier to his right is gentler. Jesus turns to him. It’s the merciful centurion again. He picks up a cold spike and places it to Jesus’ wrist. Then he picks up a hammer. Their eyes meet. Eternal Love shines forth again, and the centurion is undone. He looks away and lifts his hammer.

In that moment Jesus hears his own word of power: the word of power that holds the merciful centurion in existence, the word of power that causes the hammer to be. He’s speaking it all into being: the soldiers, the priests, the thieves, the friends, the mothers, the brothers, the mob, the wooden beams, the spikes, the thorns, the ground beneath him, and the dark clouds gathering above. If he ceases to speak they will all cease to be. But he wills that they remain. So the soldiers live on, and the hammers come crashing down.

Jesus is lifted on his crossbeam to the post. He sags held only by the spikes in his wrists. Jesus designed the median nerves in his arms that are working perfectly now.

The pain shoots up those nerves and explodes in his skull as the crossbeam is set in place.

His left foot is now pressed against his right foot. Both feet are extended, toes down, and a spike is driven through the arch of each. His knees are bent.

Jesus immediately pushes himself up to relieve the pain in his outstretched arms. He places his full weight on the spikes in his feet and they tear through the nerves between the metatarsal bones. Splinters from the post pierce his lacerated back—searing agony.
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And he sags back into silence, back into countless hours of limitless pain.

Then Jesus is startled by a foul odor. It isn’t the stench of open wounds. It’s something else. And it crawls inside him. He looks up to his Father. His Father looks back, but Jesus doesn’t recognize these eyes. They pierce the invisible world with fire and darken the visible sky. And Jesus feels dirty. He hangs between earth and heaven filthy with human discharge on the outside and, now, filthy with human wickedness on the inside.

The Father speaks: “Son of Man! Why have you sinned against me and heaped scorn on my great glory? You are self-sufficient and self-righteous—consumed with yourself and puffed up and selfishly ambitious. You rob me of my glory and worship what’s inside of you instead of looking out to the One who created you. You are a greedy, lazy, gluttonous slanderer and gossip. You are a lying, conceited, ungrateful, cruel adulterer... You exchange my truth for a lie and worship the creature instead of the Creator... With all your heart you love perverse pleasure. You hate your brother and murder him with the bullets of anger fired from your own heart. You kill babies for your convenience. You oppress the poor and deal slaves and ignore the needy. You persecute my people. You love money and prestige and honor. You put on a cloak of outward piety, but inside you are filled with dead men’s bones—you hypocrite! You are lukewarm and easily enticed by the world. You covet and can’t have so you murder. You are filled with envy and rage and bitterness and unforgiveness. You blame others for your sin and are too proud to even call it sin. You are never slow to speak. And you have a razor tongue that lashes and cuts with its criticism and sinful judgment. Your words do not impart grace. Instead your mouth is a fountain of condemnation and guilt and obscene talk. You are a false prophet leading people astray. You mock your parents. You have no self-control. You are a betrayer who stirs up division and factions. You’re a drunkard and a thief. You’re an anxious coward. You do not trust me. You blaspheme against me. You are an unsubmissive wife. And you are a lazy, disengaged husband. You file for divorce and crush the parable of my love for the church. You’re a pimp and a drug dealer. You practice divination and worship demons. The list of your sins goes on and on and on and on. And I hate these things inside of you. I’m filled with disgust, and indignation for your sin consumes me. Now, drink my cup!

And Jesus does. He drinks for hours. He downs every drop of the scalding liquid of God’s own hatred of sin mingled with his white-hot wrath against that sin. This is the Father’s cup: omnipotent hatred and anger for the sins of every generation past, present, and future—omnipotent wrath directed at one naked man hanging on a cross.

The Father can no longer look at his beloved Son, his heart’s treasure, the mirror-image of himself. He looks away.

Jesus pushes himself upward and howls to heaven, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”

Silence.

Separation.

Jesus whispers, “I’m thirsty,” and he sags.

The merciful centurion soaks a sponge in sour wine and lifts in on a reed to Jesus’ lips. And the sour wine is the sweetest drink he ever tasted.

Jesus pushes himself up again and cries, “It is finished.” And it is. Every sin of every child of God has been laid on Jesus and he drank the cup of God’s wrath dry.
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And he dies.
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In that moment mountains shake and rocks spilt; veils tear and tombs open.

And the merciful centurion looks up at the lifeless body of Jesus and is filled with awe. He drops to his knees and declares, “Truly this man was the Son of God!”

Mission accomplished. Sacrifice accepted.