Radical Shift

On this Easter, let me share another reflection from Philip Yancey…


In my study of the Bible, I was struck by a radical shift in its authors’ attitudes about suffering, a shift that traces directly back to the cross. When New Testament writers speak of hard times, they express none of the indignation that characterized Job, the prophets, and many of the psalmists. They offer no real explanation for suffering, but keep pointing to two events—the death and resurrection of Jesus—as if they form some kind of pictographic answer.

The apostles’ faith, as they freely confessed, rested entirely on what happened on Easter Sunday. Those disciples soon learned what they had failed to learn in three years with their leader: when God seems absent, he may be closest of all. When God seems dead, he may be coming back to life.

The three-day pattern—tragedy, darkness, triumph—became for New Testament writers a template that can be applied to all our times of testing. We can look back on Jesus, the proof of God’s love, even though we may never get an answer to our “Why?” questions.

Good Friday demonstrates that God has not abandoned us to our pain. The evils and sufferings that afflict our lives are so real and so significant that God willed to share and endure them. God, too, is “acquainted with grief.” On that day, Jesus himself experienced the silence of God—it was Psalm 22, not Psalm 23, that he quoted from the cross.

Easter Sunday shows that, in the end, suffering will not triumph

And Easter Sunday shows that, in the end, suffering will not triumph. Therefore, “Consider it pure joy … whenever you face trials of many kinds,” writes James; and “In this you greatly rejoice, though now for a little while you may have had to suffer grief in all kinds of trials,” writes Peter; and “We also rejoice in our sufferings,” writes Paul. The apostles go on to explain what good can result from such “redeemed suffering”: maturity, wisdom, genuine faith, perseverance, character, and many rewards to come.

It’s a matter of time, Paul says. Just wait: God’s miracle of transforming a dark, silent Friday into Easter Sunday will someday be enlarged to cosmic scale.


Yancey, Philip (2009). Grace Notes: Daily Readings with a Fellow Pilgrim.

It’s Saturday.  But Sunday’s Coming!

Every year I find myself pondering what it might have been like for the first-century Christ-followers as they woke up on the Saturday after Jesus’ crucifixion, wondering what had just happened.  Jesus had come into their lives with words and actions that gave them hope at a time when they needed hope.  God had not spoken for centuries.  The Romans had conquered them.  The religious leaders heaped burdens upon them that left them with a sour taste of who God was and what He was doing.

Jesus came with the good news that God’s kingdom was near.  Good news.  Hope.  He also spoke of the availability of the kingdom for anyone and everyone – even those whom the religious leaders indicated God was not interested in.  Very good news.  Much hope.  Enough hope to cause many to quit their day jobs to follow him. 

He rocked their worlds.  He spoke with authority, demonstrating that God was significantly different than they had ever thought or dreamed.  As they continued to follow him, it became evident to them that Jesus was a prophet, maybe even the Messiah.  As time passed many became convinced that He was the Messiah and were probably confused as to why the theologians didn’t see it.

Then the last few weeks everything seemed to unravel.  There was a sense that things weren’t going to end well.  Judas tried to force Jesus’ hand.  The rest of the followers were confused and grasped at straws trying to understand why all seemed to be disintegrating before their eyes.

And then it did disintegrate.

Within 24 hours it all came crashing down, culminating with Jesus’ death as a criminal.  Now it’s Saturday.  Friday was the worst and darkest day they had ever experienced.  Now what?  This morning I tried to imagine what they might have been thinking: “What happened?  We thought he was the Messiah.  He even led us to believe he was.  Was he a fraud?  If so, what did we miss?  He seemed like the real deal.  Did we just waste three years of our lives?  The naysayers are going to have a heyday with this!  And what of hope?  We needed hope three years ago and thought we had found it.  Now all hope seems to be lost.  So, now what, God?”

We have the privilege of looking back on that Saturday through the lens of the resurrection, knowing that hope was just around the corner.  But they didn’t have that vantage point.  But God did.  And God, knowing he was going to resurrect Jesus, allowed the followers a moment of despair.  What a powerful act of love!  Doesn’t sound like love to us, does it?  But love, in its truest form, is the lover doing exactly what the loved one needs, not what the loved one thinks he/she needs.  Think of the love of the father who let his son (the one we call ‘the prodigal’) leave, knowing it was ultimately the best thing for him.

We all have ‘Saturdays’ in our lives when hope seems to have been snuffed out.  God has a different vantage point than us.  God tells us, as he told the Israelites, “Be strong and courageous!  Do not be afraid and do not panic before them.  For the LORD your God will personally go ahead of you. He will neither leave you nor forsake you” (Deuteronomy 31:6).   For the Israelites, ‘them’ was the Canaanites that inhabited the land they were to move into.  For us today, ‘them’ might well be the devil’s minions, those demons that would prefer we lose hope. 

History and the experience of all the Christ-followers that have gone before remind us that hope is around the corner.  As you ponder resurrection hope, contemplate something N.T. Wright once said: “They [demons] can still shriek, but since Calvary they no longer have authority.”

It might be Saturday, but Sunday’s coming! Have a Blessed Easter!

The title, It’s Saturday.  But Sunday’s a Coming!, is a takeoff on a classic old message by Tony Campolo that my wife and I heard him give at a Young Life conference in 1979.

Anastasis

Anastasis (not to be confused with Anastasia) is the Greek word for resurrection.  We just celebrated the Anastasis of Jesus.  We call it Easter (which is not a biblical term, by the way).

We understand Easter to be the celebration of Jesus’ resurrection. However, I fear that the significance of the event gets lost as we focus on Good Friday and what Jesus did for us on the cross. Outside of the Easter season, we don’t talk much about the resurrection but rather focus primarily on the Cross. Why the Cross? I’m guessing because of its implications related to our eternal destiny, that is, heaven. It’s the perspective that for years was communicated to me and I, in turn, communicated to others.  And I’m pretty sure that I wasn’t the only one with that perspective… 

The reality of the ubiquitousness of such a perspective was evidenced several years ago when I asked a group of young people (college-age) what Easter was about.  The consensus: Jesus dying on the cross for our sins.  “And?” was my follow-up question, assuming the answer would be, “And then he was resurrected.” Instead, the automatic and almost unison response was, “And now we get to go to heaven.” 

Looking back, this perspective of Easter was the lens through which I viewed Jesus, read scripture, did ministry, etc., for a big chunk of my life.  In more recent years (understand that “more recent” for me is the past 15-20 years!), I began to see things differently, through a new lens – the lens of Jesus’ resurrection, the anastasis.  It was a huge shift for me!

How huge?  It changed everything! The lens through which we see life affects how we see God, ourselves, and the world around us.  Some refer to this as our worldview.  How important is our worldview?   Think of how life must have changed for Copernicus once the thought occurred to him that maybe, just maybe, the universe didn’t revolve around the earth.

If we are honest, when our view of Easter-time is more focused on the Cross than the Resurrection, the universe sort of revolves around us.  (As I type this, I realize that I can’t possibly have a worldview if I’m the focus, can I?)  Actually, it doesn’t sort of revolve around us, it mostly revolves around us.  Thus the response, “And now we get to go to heaven.”

When Jesus was resurrected, he didn’t tell his followers, “And now you get to go to heaven.”  He communicated to them that as King, his subjects (followers) had a job to do:

Then Jesus came to them and said, “All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me (sounds like a King!).  Therefore go and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything I have commanded you. And surely I am with you always, to the very end of the age (sounds like he is giving them a job to do!).”  Matthew 28:18-20

Before Jesus’ resurrection, his followers’ “worldview” was about themselves, personally and nationally.  The resurrected savior and King changed all that for them!  And for me!

Like Copernicus, once the thought occurred to me that maybe, just maybe, the universe didn’t revolve around my getting to heaven, my worldview changed, never to be the same again, for which I am eternally grateful!

Smoking Pot in the Old Testament

In the previous post (Dot-to-Dot) we discussed a theme woven throughout scripture: “I will be your God and you will be my people” stated in some manner, shape, or form. This was God’s covenant promise to the people he called (Abraham and his decedents) to to be a blessing to the world and participate in his project of “putting creation back to rights” (NT Wright).

One of the most obscure, unknown stories in the Hebrew Scriptures, the Old Testament, is probably one of the most significant stories.  In Genesis 15, Abram (soon to be renamed Abraham) asked God a question we all ask from time to time: “How do I know what you are saying is true?” So the LORD (Yahweh) said to him, “Bring me a heifer, a goat and a ram, each three years old, along with a dove and a young pigeon.”  Abram brought all these to him, cut them in two and arranged the halves opposite each other; the birds, however, he did not cut in half.

Wait!  Abram cut the animals in two and arranged them in two rows?  God didn’t tell him to do that!!  Why did he?   Because in Abram’s world 4000 or so years ago, this was how contracts were signed.  The parties would each bring and split animals in two, arrange them in rows, putting the birds together in a single pile at the head of the two rows.

The two parties would then each take a smoking pot or torch of some sort and simultaneously light their respective rows of animal parts on fire.  They would meet at the end of the rows and together light the pile of birds afire.  Basically they were saying, “If I should break this covenant, may I be drawn and quartered and burnt in a similar fashion.”  They took their contracts pretty serious!

Abram apparently knew that God was about to sign a promise or covenant with him.  What he didn’t know was how the signing would take place. As the sun was setting, Abram fell into a deep sleep, and a thick and dreadful darkness came over him.  Then the LORD said to him, “Know for certain…” and then went on to describe the future and His commitment to Abram and his descendants.  When the sun had set and darkness had fallen, a smoking fire pot with a blazing torch appeared and passed between the pieces.  On that day the LORD made a covenant with Abram.

God signed both sides of the agreement while Abram slept!

That’s a covenant, Yahweh style.  God did/does it all.  All Abram did was show up.  God did the rest. It was all about God and not so much about Abram. God was serious when he said, “I will be your God and you will be my people.” He is the promise-maker. 

And he is also the promise-keeper. Fast forward a couple thousand years and we witness God as promise-keeper, this time through Jesus. God’s first promise was to Adam and Eve.  He promised them everything (including the tree of life) but their desire to become like God cost them their life.  They chose death over life. God honored their choice and death reigned – ultimately resulting in His own son’s death.  With Jesus’ resurrection, death was defeated and the original promise was again on the table. Humanity didn’t hold up its end of the promise, but God held up his end of the covenant and fulfilled our part! “I will be your God and you will be my people.”

In Jesus, we see the smoking pot all over again. Jesus did it all. We just show up. It’s that simple. Imagine our world if we remembered to just show up and give him permission to hold up his end of the deal! It’s really all about God, not so much about us.  “For God is at work within you, helping you want to obey him, and then helping you do what he wants.” (Philippians 2:13, TLB)