Third Sunday in Lent: Costly Transformation
“Jesus’s resurrection is the beginning of God’s new project, not to snatch people away from earth to heaven, but to colonize earth with the life of heaven. That, after all, is what the Lord’s Prayer is about.”
I remember when Mel Gibson’s movie, “The Passion,” came out. The moment it was advertised, it haunted me. Some movies lodge into your timeline like an event in your personal story. I was terrified to see it. At the same time, it felt selfish not to go, almost as though I was unwilling to be with Jesus in his hardest time. The disciples fell asleep in the garden; I knew I would, too. I was bothered by my tendency to detach from the crucifixion. Not because I resisted contemplating how heart-wrenching it was, but because my imagination only took me so far. Not to mention, distraction makes it tough to connect with anything meaningful for too long. My hope in watching it was that I would attach to Jesus more, that my gratitude would expand, and my worship would be sincere.
When I was a young adult, I wanted this essential piece of my salvation to be concrete and real. So, I came up with a way to try to emotionally connect with Jesus as he stumbled in pain along the road through Jerusalem. It may seem odd, but even as I type this, I feel the tears.
I have known my brother-in-law, Greg, since I was in high school; he has always been one of my favorite people. Knowing how strong my affection is for him, I decided to use my imagination to help connect my heart with Jesus and the sacrifice he made on my behalf. This particular year, probably in my late 20’s or early 30’s, on Good Friday, while spending time in quiet reflection, I closed my eyes to picture Greg carrying the cross, stumbling down the road, weak. Jeered at, spit upon, crying, barely able to stand, mocked, bleeding…Eugene Peterson calls this a holy imagination.
My stomach felt tight. The tears came quickly. I will never forget it; I had no words, only emotion. Dumbfounded that someone would do this for me, I experienced a renewed gratitude. Mel Gibson’s movie was another thing altogether. While watching it, I forced myself to keep my eyes open. After two hours of intensity and the anxiety that came with seeing Jesus tortured, mocked, and beaten, I couldn’t move when the credits began to roll. The entire theater was silent and still. Eventually, one man stood up and cried out several times, as if he wanted his words to break through the roof, and get to Heaven, “Thank you, Jesus! Thank you, Jesus! Thank you!”
We all walked out; no one spoke a word.
It has to be more than moral behavior.
When the story of the cross goes flat, when we minimize it or disconnect from it, even without the intention to do so, we become numb to the reality of why it was required. Blood sacrifice for the forgiveness of sins. We check out and depreciate how brutal this was.
The unfortunate result is that Christianity starts to look more like nice people promoting a cause for morality, or a movement to separate ourselves by living in a bubble of “safety,” and sadly, taking a posture of spiritual superiority. It becomes us vs. them. What’s worse, in America, it can even present as white and wealthy. No, the crucifixion was too extreme for such a small and twisted vision of redemption. Reversing the curse on humanity is not a checklist. The torture and death of Jesus was an assault against every sort of evil…dismantling its effects on Creation, its ambush against relationships, and its strike to our empathy, compassion, and humility.
A large-scale, worldwide, full-bodied transformation is not evidenced by getting the 10 Commandments back into the public schools. God did not send his son to die so we would, hopefully, never sit on the plane next to a Muslim. His call to his followers after his resurrection was not only to read “Christian books,” or listen to “Christian music.” The power of the cross and resurrection is the Kingdom of God on earth as it is in heaven—Everything made new. All things redeemed. At its core, the power of the death of Jesus is noticeable in the transformation of his people, not becoming “perfect in manner,” but becoming more fully who God designed us to be. Reflections of him in all his glory and humanity, participating in the renewal of his whole wide world. The cross took a death-blow to our self-protection, self-absorption, self-sufficiency, and every false self we have zipped up over ourselves. David Benner says it this way, “Self-deceptions and an absence of real vulnerability block any meaningful transformation” (Surrender to Love 74).
“Come to me.”
So, Jesus bids us come. Every day. Not a polished version of ourselves seeking to “impress” him. Not buttoned-up and cautious. Benner goes on to say, “Conversion is a lifelong transformational process of being remade into the image of God. It is more than simply trying to avoid sin. The focus of repentance and conversion is Jesus, not my sin nor myself” (73). We come to him in our rugged and raw humanness, and we are met with transformative love.
The single most important thing I have learned in over thirty years of study of how love produces healing is that love is transformational only when it is received in vulnerability (Benner 73).
Love is at the heart of the cross.
God’s judgment expressed on the cross was a necessary move in order for humankind to have access to the healing love and transformation of God. And we see just how serious it was when we meditate on the crucifixion. What Jesus was facing, the “cup” he asked to be taken away, was the unhindered wrath of God’s judgment executed toward evil. This exacting measure was not impulsive, like a man with anger issues, easily triggered and unpredictable. This fierce response was directed at the claws of the enemy that dig into us every day, all day…that which destroys hope, life, and peace. Claws that misshape us and distort our true selves. An enemy we often cooperate with. Evil, without the accountability of justice, leaves everything and everyone in utter darkness and chaos. We all have tasted that chaos inside of us and in the culture around us. It is obvious when we pause to notice, that there is a war going on in the interior world of every human. Will I strive to manage my own life, or will I surrender in trust to the love of God? God’s power is the only power that can handle such a constant and debilitating struggle. The violence of the cross is not evidence of God’s irritability or short fuse…it doesn’t reflect a power-hungry posture, or a hate-filled anger; the violence of the cross is evidence that God hates what evil does to us and what it does to his world so much so that he would absorb it, that he would take it on our behalf. It makes so much sense, in light of this, when Paul says it’s “God’s kindness that leads to repentance,” not force, and certainly not anger.
He made a promise to make all things new.
He will bring a stream through the parched land; he will have the final say.
The cross is his signature and guarantee.
As Paul Tripp wrote, the Bible is not an encyclopedia. It is not a book of instruction to provide rules for parenting, money-management, marriage, or how a woman should dress. Christianity is not a religion where, once studied with enough rigor, every theological question will have a succinct and sufficient answer. Jesus was not stripped of his flesh, down to his bone, so that we would be well-behaved. We, my friends, are living in the river of God’s presence. He is redeeming every inch of us, and every inch of this troubled world. Hence, the wonder of the cross expressed in Isaac Watt’s beautiful hymn…
When I survey the wondrous cross,
On which the Prince of Glory died,
My richest gain I count but loss,
And pour contempt on all my pride
See from His head, His hands, His feet,
Sorrow and love flow mingled down.
Did e're such love and sorrow meet,
Or thorns compose so rich a crown
Were the whole realm of nature mine,
That were a tribute far too small.
Love so amazing so divine
Demands my soul my life my all
Lent invites us to cease striving and sit, for a time, in the ashes of the hard parts of life. Some of us are grieving with a scary sadness. Some of us are lost and stuck. We feel alone. Likewise, our desires take us into all kinds of places we are not meant to go. We bring harm on ourselves. Our commitment to being right, our love of money, our inability to be quiet, the selfishness that subtly motivates everything we do…
Have mercy, Jesus, the darkness is within and without. May your cross free us day by day as we receive your transforming love.
Lent invites us to receive His love.
We can rest today knowing the power of the love of God, by means of the cross—the vulnerability of Jesus to die a horrific death—is the waterfall that never stops falling over our lives; it never stops changing and renewing us. May we be still enough to sit in his presence and encounter this love we long for.
Stepping onto the road of Christian spiritual transformation requires an encounter with the living God. This encounter may be gradual or it may be sudden. But it will always involve a turning and an awakening (Benner 71).
And, lest we think it is just about us, our transformation is always meant to lead to the transformation of all things: May your Kingdom come, may your will be done ON EARTH as it is in heaven. The freedom of all things. God is making all things new. The irony that such a brutal death would lead to abundance can only come from a God who hovered over the chaos in the beginning of time and brought his light into the darkness.
“Jesus’s resurrection is the beginning of God’s new project not to snatch people away from earth to heaven but to colonize earth with the life of heaven. That, after all, is what the Lord’s Prayer is about.” —NT Wright
Prayer:
Jesus, I may try, but I can’t imagine the hunger, thirst, loneliness, and utter debilitating pain you endured during those dark days when you faced the crucifixion. This is a sacrificial love I have trouble believing is real. I do not even know how to receive this kind of love. Vulnerability is scary. I cannot transform myself, but your love can change me. Your love can change the world that feels scary, disordered, and godless. I sit today and consider your love; help me receive it. May I be more human and holy as you free me from my false selves so that I am a reflection of your redemption and goodness so that I can participate in bringing Heaven to Earth.