Marked At The Cross
Sermon
Is The Cross Still There?
Nine baptismal sermons
Yes, "the cross is still there;" Jesus' death on Good Friday on that little hill that looked like a skull tells us so. That cross will forever be a sign and symbol of the unmeasurable and undying love that God has for every human being. It really does declare that "God so loved the world that he gave his only-begotten Son" to die for all of us "… that the world through him might have life." That is a truth that all of us can cling to regardless of what might happen to us in this life. We were marked for eternal life at the cross of Christ.
Luke compresses the account of Jesus' death into 14 short, but packed, verses of his story about the Lord. Jesus didn't die alone; two criminals were crucified with him, men who had been condemned to death for crimes against society or the state. And Luke reports three "words" that Jesus spoke as he hung upon the cross in the paroxysms of pain and death. What Jesus said tells us what we need to know about him, his mission, and the reality of the realm of eternal life. Good Friday is the day that the good news was written in blood, the blood of Jesus, for all time, for all people to see and to read. That blood can never be washed away and, for that reason, the cross will stand forever and the mark of the cross, made on our foreheads in baptism, can never be erased or removed.
First of all, Jesus said, "Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing." The Romans and the Jewish leaders had no way of knowing that they were participating in the deliverance of humanity that God planned for the world from the beginning of time. But that was what they were doing, weren't they? Jesus had said, "For this I came into the world," and, "I, if I be lifted up will draw all people to myself." This painful and insidious death on the cross was the only way that the world could be saved.
That doesn't seem to say much for God, does it? A genuine God ought to have been able to figure out a better ending to the story, shouldn't he? And a real heavenly Father would hardly allow his "only Son" to die with criminals, would he? But that was really the best that God could do for people; it was the only way that once and for all, humanity could be delivered from sin, death, and the domain of the devil. And it was appropriate and fitting that Jesus should not only die, but die between two criminals, because he had declared, "I have come, not to save the righteous, but sinners." And that means all people, for "all have sinned and fallen short of the kingdom of heaven."
A few years ago, the University of Leeds conducted a religious survey in which they asked several thousands of the people living in England about their faith. They discovered that less than 10 percent of the people go to church with regularity, but that over 70 percent attend worship on festivals, as well as participate in baptisms, weddings, and funerals. Strangely enough, 89 percent of the people surveyed believe in some sort of spiritual power, and 71 percent of the people claimed that they prayed every day. Their prayers were mostly for power to cope with life, to survive from day to day, and, especially, for healing. There was no evidence given to show that they pray for their enemies in the spirit of "Father, forgive," as so many of the English did at the dedication of the new cathedral at Coventry.
Could it be that they and we, too, forget the announced intention of Jesus Christ to save all of the people of the world? He did just that: prayed for the very enemies of God himself when they nailed him to that trunk of a tree with only one "cross-branch" and left him hanging there to die in the heat of the midday sun. They didn't know what they were doing when they condemned and executed Jesus, but they were actually playing into the hands of God and participating in the work of salvation in Jesus' death and resurrection. But we should know this: When we learn to pray for others, in the spirit of Jesus' prayer when he was dying, our prayers are pleasing to God and have really become holy and genuine offerings to the God who loves every single one of us.
Second, as Jesus hung there on the cross, one of the two thieves took up the taunts of the crowd, "He saved others, let him save himself if he is the Christ of God, the Chosen One." The thief cried out, "Save yourself" and added, "and save us as well." What could Jesus be expected to do? The thief didn't really think Jesus could not break loose from the spikes, or he would not have said what he did. He knew that Jesus was helpless to assist him and his companion in any way; all he could do was hang there until he died. But could it be that he was afraid to die even with Jesus?
One of my students told about a minor operation that his son had to have, and how, as they sat in the waiting room at the hospital, watching television, the five-year-old boy said, "Daddy, I'm scared." His father hugged him and wiped a tear from his cheek. "There was little else I could do," he says. When the time came to go to the operating room, both parents walked with him as far as they could, then a nurse took his hand and "he walked down the hallway in those silly hospital pajamas, and as he started to turn a corner he looked back still clutching his bears he disappeared." His father remembers, "I stood there, helpless. There was nothing I could do." But, as for Jesus, he wasn't entirely helpless; the other thief perceived that.
That remarkable man, the God-fearing criminal hanging beside Jesus, rebuked the thief who taunted Christ, reminding him that they were getting what they deserved, but that Jesus was innocent and had not earned condemnation and death. And he, in that time of torture and torment, acknowledged the Lordship of Chiist with his prayer-request, "Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom." Jesus answered, "I promise you, today you will be with me in paradise." If that thief made any reply, it was lost and all we know about his death, according to Luke, is that he hung there until he died, but knowing that God loved him and that Christ had prepared a place for him in the realm of heaven himself. There is no doubt, in my mind, that that word from Jesus "restored his soul."
"It happened," says Melvin Konner, an anthropologist who teaches at Emery University in Atlanta, "before the transformation, before he (Jesse Jackson) was a major force of presidential politics, before he had kissed thousands of white babies. My brother, Larry, and I were on the eighth floor of the Cedars-Sinai Medical Center, in Los Angeles, a place we had left only rarely in the preceding two weeks." They were there because Larry's 44-year-old wife was in a near-comatose state following surgery to remove a blood clot in her brain stem. As they sat near the elevator, a group of men emerged from the elevator, and Melvin and his brother realized that the man leading the procession was Jesse Jackson. He reached across a low table and shook hands with him and Melvin told him, "Don't worry, Jesse. You've got a whole family of liberals here." "Get their cards," Jesse directed an aide, who took Melvin's business card. The group moved off quickly and Larry mused, "He must be visiting Bill Cosby's mother…. Do you think I could get him to visit Ronnie, say a prayer for her?" Melvin explains, "Between one atheist and another this suggestion made an odd but apt sort of sense. We had reason to hope that Ronnie would know what was happening, and we knew that if she did, she would love it. As for the effect on the morale of everyone on the floor -- everyone involved in her care -- it could be incalculable. ‘Ask him,' Melvin urged Larry, ‘What do you have to lose?' "
"Excuse me, Rev. Jackson," (Larry) my brother said. "My wife's in intensive care, she may not make it. I was wondering if you could stop in and see her for a minute. Maybe say a prayer. It would mean a lot to her. And to the family." Jackson asked, "What's wrong with her?" without breaking his stride, "and a series of rapid, gentle questions from Jackson produced her name, facts about the children, her career and more. The knot of men, us included, moved straight past the elevators without slowing down. ‘We can't do this,' said an aide to another. ‘It's the only plane today.' " But they did, and when they got to the intensive care unit, Jesse Jackson "pulled on the door handle. He had never hesitated or slowed down. My brother said, ‘We can't go in with all these people.' ‘Just my son,' said Jackson. He entered and swept past the nurse's station to Ronnie's bed. He went to her right side, which he had learned was the better one. ‘Ronnie, it's Jesse Jackson. Take my hand, Ronnie.' "
He took her hand, formed a circle with Ronnie's sister, Larry, the nurse, and Jackson's son and "then spoke directly to a presence that at least he felt clearly: ‘Lord, you're the God that parted the Red Sea, the God that helped Daniel in the den.' He mentioned only Old Testament miracles -- this was, after all, a Jewish hospital. ‘We need a miracle. Touch this room. Touch this woman. Give strength to the family.' By the time he said ‘Amen,' my brother (Larry) was sobbing loudly. As he pronounced that word, Ronnie opened her eyes. It was not unusual, but the timing was remarkable. The circle broke up, but Jackson did not leave. He took my brother in his large, strong arms and held him until he stopped crying. That was all. It took only a few minutes. But what we could not stop talking about later was not what he had done but how he had done it… Many weeks later, after she had recovered her speech, Ronnie told the story of the visit over and over again. ‘Jesse Jackson came to see me,' she was delighted to tell visitors."17 For nearly 2,000 years, people have been telling the story of Jesus and how he said to the repentant thief, "I promise you… Paradise." The thief never had a chance to tell the world of Jesus' promise to him, but we tell it because the story applies to us and all who recognize their sinfulness and pray, "Remember me… forgive me, 0 Lord." He does. The cross assures us of that.
Third, shortly after this exchange, Jesus died, but only after he had said, "Father, into your hands I commit my spirit." His work was completed, his pain and suffering were at an end, and the "time of his departure was at hand"; Jesus knew that all was well and that he was returning to the Father who had sent him to redeem the world. Another of my students tells how she visited her grandfather's farm with her family when she was a little girl. Her grandfather asked if she could stay a few days after her parents went home; she could and did. Her father had said, "Now be a good girl, Barbara, and I will be waiting for you on Friday when they stop the train to let you off at the crossing west of our farm."
When the time came for her to return home, her grandfather took her to the train, gave the conductor her ticket and told him where she was going. Her grandfather asked, "You aren't afraid, are you?" Barbara answered, "No. Well, maybe just a little, because I've never been on a train before. But then I just remember that Daddy promised he would be waiting for me, and I know he will be standing right there when I get off." She said, "That was all the assurance I needed." And that's how it was when the train slowed down and stopped near the country road. Barbara said, "I stepped down from the train into daddy's waiting arms."
There's something of that in Jesus' last words, "Father, into your hands I commit my spirit." Jesus had been in perfect communion and harmony with God all of his life, therefore, he could face death knowing that his heavenly Father was waiting to receive him. And that same knowledge makes it possible for us to face all that there is in life confident that in all things, and especially when time runs out on us and we face death. Our heavenly Father, who supports us in every one of life's situations, will greet us with open arms when this life comes to a close.
Many years ago, Dr. Howard Hageman published a book of sermons under the title, They Called This Friday Good. In the awful death that Jesus suffered that first Good Friday -- the "bad" thing that happened to Jesus -- something very good occurred for us: Our salvation was accomplished, eternal life was promised to all, and death became a return to the Father who created us in the first place. The cross, whose mark was made on our foreheads in baptism, assures us of that. Yes, the cross is still there. It always will be.
Luke compresses the account of Jesus' death into 14 short, but packed, verses of his story about the Lord. Jesus didn't die alone; two criminals were crucified with him, men who had been condemned to death for crimes against society or the state. And Luke reports three "words" that Jesus spoke as he hung upon the cross in the paroxysms of pain and death. What Jesus said tells us what we need to know about him, his mission, and the reality of the realm of eternal life. Good Friday is the day that the good news was written in blood, the blood of Jesus, for all time, for all people to see and to read. That blood can never be washed away and, for that reason, the cross will stand forever and the mark of the cross, made on our foreheads in baptism, can never be erased or removed.
First of all, Jesus said, "Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing." The Romans and the Jewish leaders had no way of knowing that they were participating in the deliverance of humanity that God planned for the world from the beginning of time. But that was what they were doing, weren't they? Jesus had said, "For this I came into the world," and, "I, if I be lifted up will draw all people to myself." This painful and insidious death on the cross was the only way that the world could be saved.
That doesn't seem to say much for God, does it? A genuine God ought to have been able to figure out a better ending to the story, shouldn't he? And a real heavenly Father would hardly allow his "only Son" to die with criminals, would he? But that was really the best that God could do for people; it was the only way that once and for all, humanity could be delivered from sin, death, and the domain of the devil. And it was appropriate and fitting that Jesus should not only die, but die between two criminals, because he had declared, "I have come, not to save the righteous, but sinners." And that means all people, for "all have sinned and fallen short of the kingdom of heaven."
A few years ago, the University of Leeds conducted a religious survey in which they asked several thousands of the people living in England about their faith. They discovered that less than 10 percent of the people go to church with regularity, but that over 70 percent attend worship on festivals, as well as participate in baptisms, weddings, and funerals. Strangely enough, 89 percent of the people surveyed believe in some sort of spiritual power, and 71 percent of the people claimed that they prayed every day. Their prayers were mostly for power to cope with life, to survive from day to day, and, especially, for healing. There was no evidence given to show that they pray for their enemies in the spirit of "Father, forgive," as so many of the English did at the dedication of the new cathedral at Coventry.
Could it be that they and we, too, forget the announced intention of Jesus Christ to save all of the people of the world? He did just that: prayed for the very enemies of God himself when they nailed him to that trunk of a tree with only one "cross-branch" and left him hanging there to die in the heat of the midday sun. They didn't know what they were doing when they condemned and executed Jesus, but they were actually playing into the hands of God and participating in the work of salvation in Jesus' death and resurrection. But we should know this: When we learn to pray for others, in the spirit of Jesus' prayer when he was dying, our prayers are pleasing to God and have really become holy and genuine offerings to the God who loves every single one of us.
Second, as Jesus hung there on the cross, one of the two thieves took up the taunts of the crowd, "He saved others, let him save himself if he is the Christ of God, the Chosen One." The thief cried out, "Save yourself" and added, "and save us as well." What could Jesus be expected to do? The thief didn't really think Jesus could not break loose from the spikes, or he would not have said what he did. He knew that Jesus was helpless to assist him and his companion in any way; all he could do was hang there until he died. But could it be that he was afraid to die even with Jesus?
One of my students told about a minor operation that his son had to have, and how, as they sat in the waiting room at the hospital, watching television, the five-year-old boy said, "Daddy, I'm scared." His father hugged him and wiped a tear from his cheek. "There was little else I could do," he says. When the time came to go to the operating room, both parents walked with him as far as they could, then a nurse took his hand and "he walked down the hallway in those silly hospital pajamas, and as he started to turn a corner he looked back still clutching his bears he disappeared." His father remembers, "I stood there, helpless. There was nothing I could do." But, as for Jesus, he wasn't entirely helpless; the other thief perceived that.
That remarkable man, the God-fearing criminal hanging beside Jesus, rebuked the thief who taunted Christ, reminding him that they were getting what they deserved, but that Jesus was innocent and had not earned condemnation and death. And he, in that time of torture and torment, acknowledged the Lordship of Chiist with his prayer-request, "Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom." Jesus answered, "I promise you, today you will be with me in paradise." If that thief made any reply, it was lost and all we know about his death, according to Luke, is that he hung there until he died, but knowing that God loved him and that Christ had prepared a place for him in the realm of heaven himself. There is no doubt, in my mind, that that word from Jesus "restored his soul."
"It happened," says Melvin Konner, an anthropologist who teaches at Emery University in Atlanta, "before the transformation, before he (Jesse Jackson) was a major force of presidential politics, before he had kissed thousands of white babies. My brother, Larry, and I were on the eighth floor of the Cedars-Sinai Medical Center, in Los Angeles, a place we had left only rarely in the preceding two weeks." They were there because Larry's 44-year-old wife was in a near-comatose state following surgery to remove a blood clot in her brain stem. As they sat near the elevator, a group of men emerged from the elevator, and Melvin and his brother realized that the man leading the procession was Jesse Jackson. He reached across a low table and shook hands with him and Melvin told him, "Don't worry, Jesse. You've got a whole family of liberals here." "Get their cards," Jesse directed an aide, who took Melvin's business card. The group moved off quickly and Larry mused, "He must be visiting Bill Cosby's mother…. Do you think I could get him to visit Ronnie, say a prayer for her?" Melvin explains, "Between one atheist and another this suggestion made an odd but apt sort of sense. We had reason to hope that Ronnie would know what was happening, and we knew that if she did, she would love it. As for the effect on the morale of everyone on the floor -- everyone involved in her care -- it could be incalculable. ‘Ask him,' Melvin urged Larry, ‘What do you have to lose?' "
"Excuse me, Rev. Jackson," (Larry) my brother said. "My wife's in intensive care, she may not make it. I was wondering if you could stop in and see her for a minute. Maybe say a prayer. It would mean a lot to her. And to the family." Jackson asked, "What's wrong with her?" without breaking his stride, "and a series of rapid, gentle questions from Jackson produced her name, facts about the children, her career and more. The knot of men, us included, moved straight past the elevators without slowing down. ‘We can't do this,' said an aide to another. ‘It's the only plane today.' " But they did, and when they got to the intensive care unit, Jesse Jackson "pulled on the door handle. He had never hesitated or slowed down. My brother said, ‘We can't go in with all these people.' ‘Just my son,' said Jackson. He entered and swept past the nurse's station to Ronnie's bed. He went to her right side, which he had learned was the better one. ‘Ronnie, it's Jesse Jackson. Take my hand, Ronnie.' "
He took her hand, formed a circle with Ronnie's sister, Larry, the nurse, and Jackson's son and "then spoke directly to a presence that at least he felt clearly: ‘Lord, you're the God that parted the Red Sea, the God that helped Daniel in the den.' He mentioned only Old Testament miracles -- this was, after all, a Jewish hospital. ‘We need a miracle. Touch this room. Touch this woman. Give strength to the family.' By the time he said ‘Amen,' my brother (Larry) was sobbing loudly. As he pronounced that word, Ronnie opened her eyes. It was not unusual, but the timing was remarkable. The circle broke up, but Jackson did not leave. He took my brother in his large, strong arms and held him until he stopped crying. That was all. It took only a few minutes. But what we could not stop talking about later was not what he had done but how he had done it… Many weeks later, after she had recovered her speech, Ronnie told the story of the visit over and over again. ‘Jesse Jackson came to see me,' she was delighted to tell visitors."17 For nearly 2,000 years, people have been telling the story of Jesus and how he said to the repentant thief, "I promise you… Paradise." The thief never had a chance to tell the world of Jesus' promise to him, but we tell it because the story applies to us and all who recognize their sinfulness and pray, "Remember me… forgive me, 0 Lord." He does. The cross assures us of that.
Third, shortly after this exchange, Jesus died, but only after he had said, "Father, into your hands I commit my spirit." His work was completed, his pain and suffering were at an end, and the "time of his departure was at hand"; Jesus knew that all was well and that he was returning to the Father who had sent him to redeem the world. Another of my students tells how she visited her grandfather's farm with her family when she was a little girl. Her grandfather asked if she could stay a few days after her parents went home; she could and did. Her father had said, "Now be a good girl, Barbara, and I will be waiting for you on Friday when they stop the train to let you off at the crossing west of our farm."
When the time came for her to return home, her grandfather took her to the train, gave the conductor her ticket and told him where she was going. Her grandfather asked, "You aren't afraid, are you?" Barbara answered, "No. Well, maybe just a little, because I've never been on a train before. But then I just remember that Daddy promised he would be waiting for me, and I know he will be standing right there when I get off." She said, "That was all the assurance I needed." And that's how it was when the train slowed down and stopped near the country road. Barbara said, "I stepped down from the train into daddy's waiting arms."
There's something of that in Jesus' last words, "Father, into your hands I commit my spirit." Jesus had been in perfect communion and harmony with God all of his life, therefore, he could face death knowing that his heavenly Father was waiting to receive him. And that same knowledge makes it possible for us to face all that there is in life confident that in all things, and especially when time runs out on us and we face death. Our heavenly Father, who supports us in every one of life's situations, will greet us with open arms when this life comes to a close.
Many years ago, Dr. Howard Hageman published a book of sermons under the title, They Called This Friday Good. In the awful death that Jesus suffered that first Good Friday -- the "bad" thing that happened to Jesus -- something very good occurred for us: Our salvation was accomplished, eternal life was promised to all, and death became a return to the Father who created us in the first place. The cross, whose mark was made on our foreheads in baptism, assures us of that. Yes, the cross is still there. It always will be.
