Good Friday

Now What?

Chris Tomlinson — Mon, 05 Apr 2010 09:34:30 -0700

Good Friday and Easter combine to create an emotional roller coaster of faith packed into a single weekend. Reflection upon Good Friday can bring darkness, conviction, grief, introspection, gratitude, and worship. And reflection upon Easter can bring wonder, fear, faith, hope, exhilaration, trembling, and deep joy. These days are two sides of a single coin of faith, one rooted in belief in a God who holds power over sin and death, for our sake and His glory.

But the depths and heights of these emotions cannot be sustained over life’s journey; there are plains among the valleys and peaks. This is why we remember these things regularly in communion, preaching, and days of remembrance. So we may find ourselves wondering how we should continue in Christian living following a weekend of such magnitude.

But we don’t need to wonder for long when we have God’s word to guide us. As disciples of Jesus today, we can always look back to His first disciples as examples of what to do, and what not to do, in the weeks following Holy Week. Although we have the benefit of hindsight to know how the story ends, we can still find ourselves in their sandals in many ways. As we consider their example, we may find ourselves:

1. Worshipping Jesus. “And behold, Jesus met them and said, ‘Greetings!’ And they came up and took hold of his feet and worshipped him” (Matthew 28:9).

Truly understanding and believing that Jesus rose from dead will lead to worship, for there is no one in heaven or on earth like Him.

2. Dealing with slander. “[The elders] said, ‘Tell people, ‘His disciples came by night and stole him away while we were asleep’’” (Matthew 28:13).

Easter may arouse worship among followers of Jesus, but it may also arouse ridicule from scoffers and skeptics. We are a strange people, orienting ourselves around a God-man who is said to have risen from the dead, and the folly of the cross creates disbelief in the power of the resurrection. Sometimes, even those closest to us may grieve our hearts as they mock the roots and object of our faith.

3. Doubting. “So the other disciples told [Thomas], ‘We have seen the Lord.’ But he said to them, ‘Unless I see in his hands the mark of the nails…and place my hand into his side, I will never believe” (John 20:25).

Faith doesn’t erase all doubts; it erases our penalty for sin. We are not a perfect people when we first believe, and God will grow us into Christ-likeness in a thousand different ways. Those among us who are skeptics at heart may find ourselves reflecting on Holy Week and asking ourselves, “Do I really, actually, truly believe this story?” When we encounter these kinds of questions, it’s good to ask Jesus to meet us in our moments of doubt. After all, He did not scold Thomas; he came wounded, inviting him to believe.

4. Finding wonder in the word. “They said to each other, ‘Did not our hearts burn within us while he talked to us on the road, while he opened to us the Scriptures?’” (Luke 24:32).

The Scriptures are a limitless mine for amazement at the majesty of God in weaving a narrative across geography, people, time, and genre into a tapestry that reveals a detailed portrait of Jesus. Studying this word, meditating on it, memorizing it, hiding it in our hearts are gateways to wonder.

5. Receiving a commission from Jesus. “Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, teaching them to observe all that I have commanded you” (Matthew 28:19-20).

“[Jesus] said to [Peter], “Feed my lambs…tend my sheep…feed my sheep…follow me” (John 21:15-17, 19).

The Great Commission is for the Church, and as members of that Church, it is for us. But we’re also part of one body, and each of us has a specific role to play, so our means for fulfilling the Great Commission may look different from one another. Being close to Jesus will bring us our own small commissions to do this or that and follow Him.

6. Going back to work. “Simon Peter said to them, ‘I am going fishing…’ When Simon Peter heard it was the Lord…he threw himself into the sea [and swam to shore]” (John 21:3, 7).

There’s a kind of joy that comes from the brokenness of Good Friday and a kind of joy that comes from the hope-filled wonder of Easter. But then there is Monday, and Tuesday, and Wednesday, and the next week, and the week after that. The routine of life soon reemerges to confront our time of reflection. But Jesus will show up in the midst of our daily routines, and we do well to throw ourselves into His presence as He reveals Himself to us.

So what do we do after Holy Week? We continue our mission of being and making disciples of Jesus, living in community with one another, confronting our fears and doubts with the power of the word, being firmly rooted in faith that is made possible by God’s work on the cross, in hope made possible by God’s work in the tomb, and in love that is expressed by daily obedience to the word of Christ. We honor the glory of Christ in celebrating His death on Friday and His resurrection on Sunday, but we also honor Him in our daily steps of obedience on Monday.

5 Things Jesus Taught Me on the Cross (5 Days in 4 Gospels: Day 5)

John Barry — Sat, 03 Apr 2010 08:30:00 -0700

The cross is more about life than death. Jesus teaches us how to live life in his last moments. He teaches us what it means to be godly—to love those who hate you, even in the most painful circumstances. Here are the five things Jesus taught me on the cross:

1. Forgiveness is about us, not them. Forgiveness is not dependent upon other people’s actions. Luke’s gospel records Jesus looking down on the men who beat him and crucified him, and saying, “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do” (Luke 23:34). Jesus doesn’t ask God to forgive the men who crucified him, and the crowd who mocked and beat him, because they deserve mercy, but because they are ignorant. They are anything but deserving. Jesus forgiving those who killed him shows us more about him than it does them. He was right with God, even when people had done wrong by him. We should forgive others because God forgave us when we didn’t deserve it.

2. Fulfilling your call is the most important thing of all. It was part of Jesus’ vocation to suffer. He was called to suffer like the suffering servant prophesied 500 years before he was born. Hence why Jesus says to Mary, “Woman, behold, your son!” (John 19:26). In other words, “Behold, I am fulfilling my calling.” If God has called us to do something, it is our duty (our obligation) to fulfill that calling—no matter what the cost.

3. It’s never too late to be saved. When one of the criminals who was crucified next to Jesus says, “Are you not the Christ? Save yourself and us!”, the criminal being crucified on the other side of Jesus rebukes him and says, “Do you not fear God, since you are under the same sentence of condemnation? And we indeed justly, for we are receiving the due reward of our deeds; but this man has done nothing wrong.” He then says to Jesus, “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.” Jesus then replies, “Truly, I say to you, today you will be with me in Paradise" (Luke 23:39–43). It’s never too late to come to Jesus, but never too early. All we have to do is commit our life to Christ. The moments following that commitment may be short, but God will still accept our commitment. That doesn’t mean we should delay, though, because we never know when we won’t have another chance. (We could all get hit by a bus.)

4. Pain can be holy. In Jesus’ last moments, he cries out, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” (Matt 27:46; Mark 15:34). (These are words echoed from Psalm 22:1.) Then, according to Luke, Jesus says, “Father into your hands I commit my spirit!” (Luke 23:46). And just before dying, Jesus echoes Psalm 22:31 (“he has finished it”), when he says “It is finished” (John 19:30). Jesus is quoting the first and last line of a Psalm, which is how rabbis in the ancient world cited biblical passages. In citing a psalm about deep, painful lament, Jesus is saying: “I am the ultimate lamenter. I am that man.”

5. Sometimes the earth has to shake for us to get “it.” All the prophetic signs were in place, but no one got “it.” So what does God do? Shake the earth after Jesus dies. Would we get “it” if we were there? I doubt it. But after the earth shakes, and everything comes crashing down in our lives, we have a tendency to see things more clearly. After the earthquake, it’s not a Jewish priest, or an expert in the Bible who gets “it”: it’s a Roman soldier. He remarks, “Truly, this man was the Son of God!” (Mark 15:39). According to Luke’s Gospel, he also remarks, “Certainly this man was innocent!” (Luke 23:47). Like Jesus, we can lament in a godly way. Pain can be holy. We just have to follow the guidance of psalms like Psalm 22.

Jesus died for us on the cross. But he also taught us about life on the cross. Now it’s our obligation to live it. May the man who died for your life teach you to live a godly life.

The Lost Servant: Really Good on Good Friday (5 Days in 4 Gospels: Bonus Post)

John Barry — Fri, 02 Apr 2010 15:00:00 -0700

Was Jesus’ death and resurrection prophesied? I think so. Was it prophesied that he would suffer on our behalf? I think so. Try “prophesied 500 years before Jesus came on the scene” on for size:

Isaiah 53:10 (My Translation)

Yet Yahweh was pleased to crush [the servant]; he afflicted [him] (with sickness). If [Zion or Jerusalem] places his life a guilt offering

Then Something Miraculous Happens: Isaiah 53:10–12 (My Translation)

[The servant] will see offspring, he will prolong days and the will of Yahweh in his hand will succeed. From the trouble of his life he will see light. He will be satisfied.

In his knowledge, my righteous servant shall make the many righteouss and he will bear their iniquities.

Therefore I will divide to him [a portion] among the many, and with [the] strong ones he shall divide bounty, because he exposed his life to death and was counted with transgressors, and he carried [the] sin of many and will intercede for transgressors.

Questions to Consider:

Who killed Jesus? The Jerusalem priesthood in Zion (Israel) at the temple.

What holiday was Jesus killed during? Passover, when many guilt offerings would be brought into the temple.

What does the servant represent in his death? A guilt offering.

Who did Jesus die for according to the New Testament writers? The many—all of us.

Was Jesus beaten? Yes.

Did Jesus die? Yes.

Was Jesus resurrected according to the New Testament writers? Yes.

A Poem to Reflect on: “The Lost Servant”

Along the way we have discovered truth

But we some how lost our way

In the light we saw the beginning

But we lost sight of he who first saw lightWhen we thought of resurrection

We said, “No it could never be”

But there is a beginning for everything

New life is now what we see

To all those who lost the servant

And to all who wish to reclaim him

Here is your servant

Resurrected. Restorative. Reconciliatory.

Once lost, but always found

May kings shut their mouths at him

And all who follow his example

—From the “Dedication” of my forthcoming book, The Resurrected Servant in Isaiah.

10 Gooder Things about Good Friday (5 Days in 4 Gospels: Day 4)

John Barry — Fri, 02 Apr 2010 12:09:22 -0700

‘Gooder’ is not a word, but it should be. Here are 10 gooder things we can learn from Jesus on Good Friday.

1. Jesus knows our flaws. Even though Jesus knew Peter would deny him, he chose the cross for him (and us) anyways (Matt 26:75). This gooder thing happens before sunrise on Good Friday.

2. Jesus’ suffering happens on a holy day: the Passover. It’s so holy that the priests won’t enter the Roman governor’s house because they are worried about being defiled. If you like irony, this is it. The priests basically say, “We are happy to convince a Roman governor to crucify an innocent man, but entering his house, that won’t work. You see, we really want to eat a holy, religious meal. We love the God of Israel, and wish to obey all his commandments.” Sure you do, you sleezsters. Now tell me this, “Is religion a problem?” I think so, people. I think so. This gooder thing happens at day break on Good Friday (Luke 23:66).

3. Jesus is a different type of king. Kings on earth may massacre and pillage, but Jesus’ kingdom is heavenly. He creates and restores. Pilate asks Jesus, “Are you the King of the Jews?” According to Matthew’s gospel, Jesus responds with two Greek words that mean, “You have said so” (Matt 27:11). If that’s not nonchalant, I don’t know what is. But get this, when Jesus was accused by the chief priests and elders, he gives no answer. (For the reason, read my last post.) The governor is greatly amazed (Matt 27:14). I can hear the words of Isaiah 52 and 53—the subject of my forthcoming book—echoed again: “kings shall shut their mouths because of him; for that which had not been told them, they shall see, and that which they had not heard they shall contemplate” (Isa 52:15, my translation). Jesus responds to Pilate (in John’s gospel) by saying, “You say that I am a king. For this purpose I was born and for this purpose I have come into the world—to bear witness to the truth. Everyone who is of the truth listens to my voice” (John 18:37). Initially, Pilate wants to let Jesus go. His mouth is basically shut, but the priesthood convinces him to rethink his decision. So Pilate flogs Jesus, and then (likely) encourages Roman soldiers to put a crown of thorns on his head (John 18:38–19:4). Jesus is a gooder type of king—gooder indeed. This gooder thing happens at mid-morning on Good Friday.

4. Jesus doesn’t give in to the demands of rulers on this earth. When Pilate says, “Shall I crucify your King?”—mocking both the Jews he ruled over and Jesus—the chief priests say, “We have no king but Caesar” (John 19:58). What? No king but Caesar? I thought you guys wanted to rebel against Caesar. But when you know what hits the fan, sleazy people say stuff like this. They give up fighting the kingdoms of this earth for the sake of power and authority—however finite that authority is. (Here’s where the whole notion of seeing the infinite in everything comes into play.) But Jesus isn’t like them. He serves the God in heaven—not the kings or kingdoms of this earth. This gooder thing also happen mid-morning on Good Friday.

5. Jesus doesn’t care about “being friends” with the enemy. After Luke describes Herod’s mistreatment of Jesus, he makes this remark: “And Herod and Pilate became friends with each other that very day” (Luke 23:12). While the enemy is being friendly, Jesus is doing something godly. This gooder thing probably happened midday on Good Friday.

6. Jesus is declared innocent by the guilty. Even Pilate thought Jesus was innocent (Luke 23:4, 22). Shocking, but true.

7. Jesus is willing to stand in the place of a murderer. When Barabbas, the murderer, is let off the hook instead of Jesus by Pilate (Mark 15:6–14), Jesus could have spoke up and said, “Are you crazy?” Or he could have called his angels down. But he lets the man go—saying nothing. How many of us have received grace from Jesus when we didn’t deserve it? Grace is gooder than what we deserve—much gooder.

8. Jesus is beat and mocked for us. To shoot straight, it’s a bit difficult for me to describe this without tearing up, so check out: Matt 27:27–31, Mark 15:16–20, and John 19:2–3. It’s hard to see what gooder thing there is in this. But keep in mind, that Jesus is mocked and beat for us—all to fulfill the prophecy of Isaiah: “he carried [the] sin of many and will intercede for transgressors” (Isaiah 53:12, my translation). We all desperately need someone to intercede for our sin. That’s gooder than dying in sin.

9. Jesus carried the cross first (Luke 23:26–32). He set the example. We now know what it means to follow God no matter what (Matt 10:34–39). That’s gooder.

10. Jesus died for us. This also makes me teary eyed. So check out: Matt 27:32–44, Mark 15:21–32, Luke 23:26–43, and John 19:16–37. And that’s the most gooder part of all of Good Friday. So let’s do what the author of Hebrews says, “Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses (the other people who have followed Jesus), let us also lay aside every weight, and sin which clings so closely, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us, looking to Jesus, the founder and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy that was set before him endured the cross, despising the shame, and is seated at the right hand of the throne of God” (Heb 12:1–2). Jesus can save us, all we have to do is cry out to Him and say we believe.

"For in [Christ] all the fullness of God was pleased to dwell, and through him [God] reconciled to himself all things, whether on earth or in heaven, making peace by the blood of his cross" (Col 1:19–20). May you be at peace with God through Christ. May the fullness of God also dwell in you.

Later Today—Bonus Post: "The Lost Servant"—A Poem

Tomorrow: “5 Things Jesus Taught Me on the Cross.”

Easter Sunday—Bonus Post: "Resurrected Jesus, Resurrected Us."

I Am A Thief

Chris Tomlinson — Fri, 02 Apr 2010 07:43:59 -0700

A meditation in poem on Good Friday (Matthew 27, Luke 23).

The morning came before sleep,
My eyes held open in hazy fear,
Body tense, and spirit quenched,
Fists holding tightly to nothing,
As if time could be restrained in the palm of my hand.

Death was in the air, and coming for me.
My sentence ringing in my ears,
As the bell of my fate chimed clear within,
The loneliness that filled my heart surpassed only by
The anger I felt for my lot in life.

“You are a thief,” came a voice from inside,
“But you don’t deserve this,” and I believed the voice.
I stole, but I am more than a thief. I am a man,
A good man, not perfect, but good,
And not deserving of this fate.

The voice grew quieter, whispering in faint tones,
But vanished as the locks cracked,
And the guards came to bring us into the light,
Where we would begin the long, slow walk,
Into the dawn that would end with our dusk.

We joined the procession behind the man,
Who was always surrounded by crowds,
Pressing ‘round to see or to touch.
Some watching, some shouting,
Others mocking, others weeping.

He first, another behind,
And me, watching and wondering at this strange scene.
A man of God, this prophet, this teacher,
Now condemned to die
Like a common criminal.

We came to the place they had prepared
For three criminals to be hung,
As symbols of justice,
And targets for insult,
And warnings to all who would see and would hear.

I watched as they laid him upon the wood,
My eyes turning as they readied his hands,
And listened as the hammer struck nail,
Piercing silence and flesh, the sound mixing
With the groan that arose from the crowd.

My eyes followed his as they raised him high
His, never rising, mine, never blinking
And the voice inside whispered softly
To pity him, no, to despise him,
Though I know not why.

I looked aside to see the cross
That would ferry me through final breaths
To the end that had filled my thoughts for days.
I felt hands moving me forward,
My steps and my heart both pounding in fear.

Time seemed to stop, or moved quickly forward,
Interrupted by pain that should have been sharp,
But one dulled by the daze
Of heat and sweat and tears
And sounds of the ropes and the groans of the soldiers below.

Then sky turned to horizon, and horizon to earth,
And earth to the eyes I could see
Now fixed on the man hanging at my side.
And I heard them whisper in one another’s ears,
The murmuring broke finally by a shout.

“Come down,” one cried, “If you are God’s Son.”
And the silence that held court that morning,
Became laughter and spite as their boldness grew firm.
“He saved others, but he can’t save himself,”
Nails meant to pierce not hands but his soul.

Their words met my heart in an angry embrace,
And the voice inside became words on my tongue
As I joined in the chorus that continued to rise,
To his right, to his left, and below,
Whilst above, there was but silence.

We mocked and we spit and we cried,
Because of how it made us feel:
Powerful, whole, and right.
This man who claimed things no man should claim,
Now no better than a thief.

But then darkness came,
First to the sky, then to my soul,
As my waning thoughts and breath,
Were quickened by the fear and dread,
Not of death, but of my sin.

I saw my own soul, dead, in the ground,
The reward of my deeds was mine.
And this man I had mocked by my side,
Reaching to take my hand,
Leaning down to breathe upon my face.

I turned my gaze anew to this man.
“Jesus,” I cried. “Remember me!”
And He turned His head as my soul arose,
His gaze meeting mine as new light poured like living water,
Giving strength within as my body grew weak.

There was now something different, marvelously different.
I thought He may have changed,
Or perhaps it was me,
Once seeing a man upon a cross,
And now seeing my sin upon this cross.

I watched Him dying, and I heard Him cry out,
Not like the sound of a man or a beast,
But an anguish that could come only
From the throat of a god whose very soul
Bends beneath the weight of the world.

This was a cry that changes the world,
Where dead men are raised and rocks are split,
Where mortal earth cries out
As the divine tears in two for the briefest of moments,
When sinners are made right with a holy God.

My own darkness soon came, but before it did,
I saw the truth that my eyes had not seen.
I am a thief, but one loved.
And darkness came, and then light,
And I saw Him again, now forever His.

The Cross and the Tomb: Good Friday

Holly Ordway — Fri, 02 Apr 2010 00:00:00 -0700

Christ is risen! On Easter, we raise our voices in praise and thanksgiving, celebrating the victory won for us by Our Lord, our new life made possible in His new life.

And rightly we do celebrate – but before we do, wait a moment. Paul writes in Romans that “if we have been united with him in a death like his, we shall certainly be united with him in a resurrection like his” (Rom 6:5 ESV). How easy it is to jump ahead, in our eagerness to be united with Our Lord in a resurrection like His own mighty resurrection. Stop for a moment. Stop and think on Paul’s words: “if we have been united with him in a death like his.” A death like Jesus’ death. What does that mean?

We cannot come to new life without death. We cannot find the Risen Lord without the Cross; we cannot reach Easter any way except through the agony of Good Friday and the emptiness of Holy Saturday.

Good Friday

Our Lord leads the way – from triumph and hosannas as He entered Jerusalem on Sunday, through the lonely watch in the garden of Gethsemane. Mark tells us that in the garden, Jesus “fell on the ground and prayed that, if it were possible, the hour might pass from him. And he said, ‘Abba, Father, all things are possible for you. Remove this cup from me. Yet not what I will, but what you will’” (Mk 14:35-36). Our Lord Himself was distressed and troubled, yet constant in obedience to the Father. How easy it is to proclaim Christ when we anticipate that His will is peace and prosperity. Yet Christ calls us to come and die. “Do you not know that all of us who have been baptized into Christ Jesus were baptized into his death?” (Rom 6:3).

Would you die for Christ? Here in America, we are unlikely to literally die for Christ at all, and certainly not as Our Lord did – in agony, His scourged body stretched across the wood of the cross, struggling to breathe. Put it differently. Would you be willing to lose your job for Christ? Would you let go of God’s good gifts to follow God Himself?

Christ calls us to share in His death, that we may share in His resurrection. “We were buried therefore with him by baptism into death, in order that, just as Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father, we too might walk in newness of life” (Rom 6:4). We will, soon, glory in His resurrection – but first comes the cross.

The crowd shouts, “Crucify him, crucify him!” (Jn 19:6). We are in that crowd. Pilate offers to release Him: the crowd shouts, “If you release this man, you are not Caesar’s friend.” (Jn 19:12). What accommodations have we made with Caesar? What do we worship instead of the One True God? We must face the darkness in our own lives as we make our way toward the light of Easter.

Christ is crucified.

Not for a vague and unspecified “humanity,” nor for a general idea of “sinners” which we so easily interpret as “other people.” No – on the cross He hung for three bitter hours, bleeding, thirsty, listening to the mockery of the crowd – for us. For me who writes this, for you who are reading this, for all the individual human lives that have ever been and ever will be. And with Christ was crucified all our sins. “We know that our old self was crucified with him in order that the body of sin might be brought to nothing, so that we would no longer be enslaved to sin. For one who has died has been set free from sin” (Rom 6:6-7).

The Drama Queen High Priest (5 Days in 4 Gospels: Day 3)

John Barry — Thu, 01 Apr 2010 19:52:50 -0700

In our “5 Days in 4 Gospels” series we have talked about why Pastor Eastwood is wrong and discussed why Peter went Jackie Chan on a mobster. Now let’s talk about the drama queen high priest. Why does Jesus react the way he does to the priest? Why doesn’t he call down angels from heaven? Answer: To fulfill prophecy.

After a mob nabs Jesus, they take him to Caiaphus the high priest. Peter follows at a distance, because he is a bit hesitant about admitting his connection to Jesus (Matt 26:58). (He will say he doesn’t know Jesus shortly.) The chief priests, some elders, some experts in the law of Moses, and the entire Sanhedrin (an upper-class, religiously-authoritative group), begin to prompt people to testify falsely against Jesus. When? The middle of the night. Their deeds will be done in darkness, because their deeds are dark. Why? Power. They want to kill Jesus because they are afraid of losing their position of authority. But they couldn’t prove that he had said anything false, even though lots of people testified against him (Matt 26:59–60).

But it doesn’t end there. Two men come forward with something true, “This man said, ‘I am able to destroy the temple of God, and to rebuild it in three days’ ” (Matt 26:60). Jesus had said that. But, according to John, he was referring to the temple of his own body—he was God’s temple, his presence on earth (John 2:20). They then prompt Jesus to respond, but Jesus is silent. But why is he silent?

Isaiah 53, the topic of my forthcoming book, is probably the reason why Jesus chose to be silent:

“All we have gone astray; each has turned our own way; and Yahweh has interposed upon [the servant] the iniquity of us all. [The servant] was oppressed and afflicted, yet he did not open his mouth; like a sheep to slaughter, and like an ewe before its shearers is silent, so [the servant] did not open his mouth” (Isaiah 53:6–7, my translation).

But the high priest is too dense and power hungry to get that. He should know this passage. He should see the parallels. But he doesn’t, because he is on the opposite side of all that is good. He stands up and says, “I adjure you by the living God, tell us if are the Christ, the Son of God” (Matt 26:63). Translation into modern terms: “Tell us if you are anointed by God to be king—the next David.”

Jesus finally speaks: “You have said so (or ‘so you say’). But I tell you, from now on you will see the Son of Man seated at the right hand of Power and coming on the clouds of heaven” (Matt 26:64).

And with those words, the high priest goes into drama queen mode. (I don’t know about you, but the high priest kind of reminds me of the Queen of Hearts [aka the Red Queen] from Alice in Wonderland in this moment. You just want to yell, “Big Head, Big Head, Big Head. You fool, you are so full of yourself that you don’t see the truth at all.” He tears his robes and begins yelling, “He has uttered blasphemy. What further witnesses do we need? You have now heard his blasphemy. What is your judgment?” (Matt 26:65–66).

Really, blasphemy? What if he is telling the truth and you are about to kill the real-deal Son of God? But the Queen of Hearts doesn’t care about that: He cares about his power.

The priests answer, “He deserves death.” (When people ask you, “Who killed Jesus?” Here’s the first answer: the Jerusalem priesthood. There are other people too who we will discuss later.) People begin to spit in Jesus’ face, strike him and slap him, and say, “Prophesy to us, you Christ! Who is it that struck you?” He appears to be blindfolded.

What can we learn from Jesus’ approach to being persecuted?

Sometimes silence is the answer.

Sometimes we need to speak.

Sometimes we will be persecuted when we don’t deserve it.

Sometimes we will be misunderstood.

Sometimes being blindfolded doesn’t mean we are blind.

Defining Humanitarianism – Take 2: Defy Circumstance (and by the way it's friday..but sunday's coming)

Christian Buckley — Thu, 01 Apr 2010 18:11:37 -0700

If you asked 100 people what philanthropy or humanitarianism was all about, my bet is that almost all of them would very quickly begin to talk about circumstances.

Some might talk about education and healthcare - others about poverty, disease, deforestation, or hunger. Many would begin to describe the conditions in the “inner city” or Haiti or Africa. Perhaps a few would talk about solutions or their experience in reaching a need or touching a life. In the end, most, if not all, would in some way talk about circumstances. And, in many ways, they would be right.

“Circumstance - which moves by laws of its own, regardless of parties and policies, and whose decrees are final and must be obeyed by all - and will be”
Mark Twain

Billions of people on this planet live in frankly horrific circumstances. In my own life I encounter abused children, homeless drug addicts who are often mentally ill, poor day laborers, racially disenfranchised gang members who have been raised on violence, gravely thirsty Sudanese with little hope of water, and the list goes on. When I wrote this book I spent a year basically engaging with population after population who existed in circumstances so foreign to me that at times it was overwhelming.

And yet, through all of this, something began to show up. People. Persons. Faces. Names. Souls.

Every circumstance impacts a people group that is made up of persons who, according to the Bible, were created in the image of God and are known by Him. Every circumstance impacts a potential adoptee of God -- one of the “whosoever” – that Christ died for. Every circumstance impacts millions if not billions of eternal souls. The reality of humanitarianism is that at its root – it deals with the human – and at its root – is a soul that cries out for redemption. Humanitarianism at its best acknowledges circumstance and then defies it by focusing on people….people who need the Lord as one man put it.

Because, after all, today is Good Friday, let me put it this way: For every person in every circumstance we must always remember that IT’S FRIDAY BUT SUNDAY’S COMING (thanks Mr. Campolo).

Peter Goes Jackie Chan and a Naked Guy Runs Away (5 Days in 4 Gospels: Day 2)

John Barry — Wed, 31 Mar 2010 17:54:45 -0700

A mob came to arrest his teacher, so Simon Peter cut off one of the mobster’s ears to spite his face. This is pre-Van Gogh, so it wasn’t like Peter was trying to make the guy a fashionable, quirky artist. Peter was either Zorro, or meant to kill the guy and missed. Either way, Jesus’ response is unexpected: He touches the man’s ear and heals him (Luke 22:51). Then a naked dude runs off in the wilderness. (And he’s not a frat boy at halftime; he’s just scared.) That’s the way the story is (sort of) told on Good Friday, but this telling leaves me with unanswered questions. Why did Peter go Jackie Chan on the mobster? Why did Jesus heal the guy? And what’s the deal with the naked dude?

Our answers are found in the differences in the gospel accounts.

Luke, whose gospel is flavored with a love for the poor and often highlights Jesus’ ability to do miraculous things in intense situations, tells us about the healing of the mobster (Luke 22:51).

John is really good at recounting who did what. He is the only one who tells us that Peter is the guy who made the mobster look like Van Gogh (John 18:10). John’s portrayal of Peter as an overly zealous Christ-follower earlier on in his gospel helps us understand this story. This is typical, type-A, act-before-you-think, Peter behavior. (But don’t forget, in John’s gospel Peter is also the one Jesus calls to lead the church.)

Matthew, whose gospel often focuses on Jesus’ interactions with the upper class, tells us how Jesus puts the mobsters in their place: “Day after day I sat in the temple teaching, and you did not seize me. But all this has taken place so that the Scriptures of the prophets might be fulfilled” (Matt 26:55–56). Jesus basically says, “You sleezsters. You couldn’t pull this off during the day because you know you would have an uprising on your hands. But either way, I’m really in control here. This is God’s will.” Similarly, Jesus says to Peter, “Do you think that I cannot appeal to my Father, and he will at once send me more than twelve legions (battalions) of angels?” (Matt 26:53). I tend to think that Jesus said this because Peter didn’t get it. Jesus was not a regular zealous leader who intended to overthrow the priesthood and eventually Rome—all in an effort to take back Israel for God’s people. Jesus was a different type of king. Peter likely thought, “Man, it’s on. I’m going Kung Fu on you son.” Jesus then responds, “Not a good idea Peter. That’s not really the point. Didn’t we go over this?” (At least that’s how I parse the story based on the Graeco-Roman context.)

Mark has one of the simplest accounts of the story. But he adds the story of the young man who attempted to follow Jesus after the disciples fled. The young man, though, is attacked by the mob and loses his clothes (Mark 14:50–52). Some have suggested that Mark is the young man who fled, since he is the only person who tells this particular part of the story, but that’s just a suggestion (not a fact).

What can we learn from seeing each account separate, and then putting the various parts back together?

Jesus is not a zealous leader: he is here to save people, not kill them.

Jesus saw good in a crazy band of rebels, so he must be able to find good in us.

Jesus died for more than one generation: his death was for everyone, for all time.

Jesus knows how to fight betrayal: he fights with healing and love.

Jesus’ followers may fail him at times, but he won’t give up on them.

When My Pastor Became Clint Eastwood (5 Days in 4 Gospels: Day 1)

John Barry — Tue, 30 Mar 2010 13:59:51 -0700

On Good Friday, my childhood pastor would become Clint Eastwood. He would basically tell us, “You are a know good-for-nothing-yellow-bellied-gizzard. You are a worthless worm. You killed Jesus! Feel guilty.” (And we wondered why people didn’t come to church on Good Friday.) What if we told the story like the gospel writers? In Jesus’ last moments, he teaches us the greatest lesson of all: how to love those who hate you. He teaches us how God suffers. The point is not guilt; it’s godliness—no matter what the circumstances.

T-Minus 2 Days until Jesus Dies. The chief priests and the scribes want to kill Jesus. Why? Power. They can’t have a rabbi around who teaches against their religious power plays. But wait: they can’t kill him during the Passover feast, because that would ruin the party and could create an uprising among all the peasants—Jesus’ main following—who were in Jerusalem for the festival. Matthew says the elders of the people also joined in. And where do they plan all this? The palace of the high priest (Matt 26:3). (Rich people oppressing poor people is nothing new.) They then recruit Judas. Judas acts on his own accord out of greed (they pay him off), but along the way Satan enters him. (Only Luke and John record this part of the story. [Luke 22:3; John 13:27].)

Villains, Villains, Villains. Pastor Clint Eastwood would say that we are the villain in this story. In many ways, he’s right: Jesus died for us. And it’s because of our sin that he had to die. Furthermore, aren’t we a lot like Judas, the chief priest, the scribes and the elders? Greed and power drives humanity. But there’s more going on here than just that. Satan’s involved. Luke and John seem to suggest that he’s the driving force behind all of it. The dichotomy between good and evil exists—in every event. This makes the point not guilt, or the guilty, but the dynamic between God’s actions and our actions. Will we suffer like Jesus? Will we join his team? Or will we just be spectators as the Son of God (and Son of Man) is crucified? And in the meantime, how will we fight? Will we fight greed with greed, power with power, and ultimately hate with hate? Or will we choose another way? When Jesus acts like the suffering servant—the topic of my first book—he shows us that evil should be fought with diligence, perseverance and an undaunted will to follow God.

Jesus Eats Grub with Judas, Peter and Us. Before he dies, Jesus eats. Who Jesus dines with teaches us that one of Pastor Clint Eastwood’s other messages is also wrong: Christians don’t eat bread and drink wine (share communion) with just Christians, they do it with everybody. Judas is at the table. And so is Peter, who will deny him three times before he dies. Jesus eats and drinks a holy meal with the worst kind of sinners. In doing so, he teaches us that we should share his broken body (the bread) and blood spilt (the wine) with everyone: Jesus’ death is for all of us. It is meant to be shared, not horded.

Good Friday is Meant to Be Good. Jesus’ crucifixion is a gut-wrenching, heart-breaking event. We need to understand how much pain and sorrow Jesus experienced for us. But we are not meant to feel guilty as a result. During the Passover meal, Jesus does not say, “this is my blood of the covenant, which is poured out so that the sinners may feel guilty.” He says, “this is my blood of the covenant, which is poured out for many for the forgiveness of sins.” His blood is spilt for our forgiveness. We are meant to feel enabled to live a life like Jesus: to love those who hate us (and betray us) by eating and drinking with them. Recognizing our own sin and guilt is important, but it is a step, not a solution. The solution is forgiveness through Jesus’ sacrifice.

I am not suggesting you go put Pastor Clint Eastwood in his place. But I am suggesting that you consider doing what Jesus did:

Recognize that the battle is against the forces of darkness.

Reflect on the fact that Jesus did not intend for us to focus on our guilt, but on his grace.

Realize that Jesus fought greed, power and hatred with love.

Revitalize other people by acting like Jesus: share a meal with them.