Our Sermons

Bible Passage: John 19:17-30
Pastor: Pastor Schlicht
Sermon Date:  April 10, 2020

The cross is a beautiful symbol for a Christian. We display it in our homes, we tattoo it on our bodies, we wear it around our necks. But the cross was never designed to be a “beautiful” thing. This is how the Roman orator Cicero described the cross: “It is the most cruel and shameful of all punishments. Let it never come near the body of a Roman citizen. Indeed, let it never come near his thoughts or eyes or ears or the very word pass his lips.” To Cicero, talking about the cross was like living in the postwar 1950s and mentioning the gas chambers in Germany. It just wasn’t done. It was shameful, cruel, and horrific. The cross  was anything but beautiful.

And yet the early Christians not only admitted that Jesus died in this contemptible manner; they even boasted about it. The apostle Paul, who himself was a Roman citizen, wrote: “But far be it from me to boast, except in the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ,” (Galatians 6:14). In fact, this is the only thing that Paul resolved to talk about. “I resolved to know nothing while I was with you except Jesus Christ and him crucified” (1 Corinthians 2:2). Perhaps we forget, because of our distance from that period and our comfortability with the symbol, but do realize now how ridiculous that must have seemed to other people at the time? 

There was a drawing that archaeologists discovered while excavating the Palatine hill in Rome some years ago. Found in the former living quarters of page boys who served the imperial court, the drawing depicts in a crude style a young boy raising his hand in salute to a figure hanging on a cross. But the figure scratched into the wall isn’t quite human, it has the head of a donkey and underneath in poor lettering scrawls the inscription: “Alexamenos worships his god.” It’s a drawing making fun of a young imperial servant, Alexamenos, who had become a Christian. It’s thought that it was carved over his bed to shame him. This crude picture is the earliest crucifix discovered so far and it isn’t an object of veneration. It’s a caricature of contempt. The very idea of a crucified God in the first Century was a joke and a sick one at that.

In fact, among Jews, divine curse was added to human scandal, because the Jewish law, the Torah, said, “A man hung on a tree is cursed by God” (Deut 21:23). Not to mention that it brought reproach to their people that some believed their “Messiah” would debase himself to suffer at the hands of the godless Romans. Do you get how offensive the cross was? Nobody in Jesus’ day would have dreamed of wearing one around their neck or making the sign of it on their babies as they were baptized. It would have been in the worst possible taste, something unthinkable. And yet Paul and the early Christians weren’t unaware of this. He wrote, “We preach Christ crucified: a stumbling block to Jews and foolishness to Gentiles…” (Romans 1:23). They understood how loathsome the cross was, and yet something happened which changed this symbol forever in their heart. And though it may have seemed ridiculous at first,  in time kings and queens would bow before Jesus’ cross. This symbol of universal loathing–this taboo–would shape architecture, inspire musicians, found hospitals and schools, and become the pivot point of history itself. The cross has become beautiful for billions of believers to this very day. How can that be? What on earth happened on Jesus’ cross?

Well, there’s no better place to turn than John’s Gospel to understand what took place. In his own words, as an eyewitness of Jesus’ suffering and death, John does not fixate on the inherent pain, shame, and ugliness of crucifixion. He is too focused on the character of Christ, his Lord, who goes resolutely to the cross. Before Jesus is crucified, John remembers him speaking of the cross, not as a taboo, not as something shameful, but rather as something necessary. Already in chapter 3 of his Gospel John records him saying, “It is necessary that the Son of Man be lifted up, that everyone who believes may have eternal life in him” (John 3:14-15). Jesus emphasizes the cross as the instrument of salvation more than an instrument of torture and execution. Later in chapter 12, John records Jesus speaking of his death, “The hour has come for the Son of Man to be glorified…“Now my soul is troubled, and what shall I say? ‘Father, save me from this hour’? No, it was for this very reason I came to this hour. Father, glorify your name!…And I, when I am lifted up from the earth, will draw all people to myself.” 33 He said this to show the kind of death he was going to die.” Jesus knew the kind of death that awaited him. And he doesn’t want to be saved, he knows that this is why he came. This is not going to be his shame, it will be his glory. He will not be turned away from it.

I mean there are so many things Jesus could have done to get out of it. Jesus knew about Judas’ evil intention from early days and yet kept the traitor in his closest circle. He chose to go to the Garden of Gethsemane at night away from the crowds. Though he knocked the soldiers down with a single word, he let them take him into custody. He did not defend himself in front of bold-faced lies and conflicting accusations before Pilate. He chose to do this. He was in control despite appearances.

This is especially clear in John’s depiction of the crucifixion itself. John knows that it was painful and shameful, he isn’t denying any of that, but he purposefully doesn’t focus on the pain or the shame, even more than the other gospel writers. When it comes to the flogging, John simply states that it happened and moves on. And when it comes to the crucifixion itself, John doesn’t even make it the main point of the sentence; it is a subordinate clause. “When they crucified him, John says, they took his clothes and divided them into four equal shares…” John is incredibly restrained in every emotional aspect of the crucifixion. Why? It is because he doesn’t want us to pity Jesus. John knows that Jesus is not a victim, he is in control. On the cross John sees Jesus, still taking care of his mother, still commanding John as his disciple. In fact, perhaps the clearest example is Jesus’ death. John records it with three active verbs which are all Jesus’ actions. Jesus said, “It is finished.” With that, he bowed his head and [he] gave up his spirit. As Jesus said, No one takes [my life] from me, but I lay it down of my own accord. John shows us that what happened on the cross was not about what people did to Jesus, but what Jesus did for us. That’s what John saw. Beyond the physical surface of pain and shame, John sees his king lifted up, exalted in descending love. He sees the only lamb on Passover who goes willingly to the altar. He sees purpose, he sees love, he sees glory. He sees the beauty of the cross.

Certainly we are blind, if we do not see the ugliness of the cross. Certainly we are blind if we cannot see the pain Jesus endured. Certainly we are blind if we do not plainly see in the cross the wrath of God which he exercises on our sin; and we are harder than stones if we do not tremble at such judgment. But in the end, Jesus didn’t die for us so that we would feel bad for him. In the end, when it comes to you and me, God’s hands held the nails, not the hammer.  Tonight God wants you to view him, above all, as the one who, in love, willingly and determinedly died for you. Who, in complete control, decided to shed his blood to cleanse you from all sin. There’s a verse in the book of Hebrews that says Jesus, “for the joy set before him endured the cross, scorning its shame” (He 12:2). At first glance, joy may seem to be counterintuitive on Good Friday, but from Jesus’ own point of view, joy was motivation on the cross. He endured the cross for the joy set before him of gaining you forever. The joy of saying “You are forgiven. You are my family. You will be with me in heaven. Nothing can separate you from my love.” 

The cross is a beautiful symbol for the Christian. We sing about it. We celebrate it. We cling to it. We want to be kept near the cross. And that’s the way it should be. And it holds great application for us as well. Because if we can see the beauty in Jesus’ cross, then there must be something beautiful in the crosses we carry as well.

I went to a funeral in February with my wife. It was for the husband of one of her close friends in Appleton, WI. His name was Dave and he taught at Fox Valley Lutheran High School for many years. That is, until he was diagnosed with cancer. One of the things Dave told his wife as his condition worsened, was that his cancer would now be the heart of his ministry—which may seem odd at first. How could terminal cancer be the center of his ministry? It had already forced him to discontinue his position at the school. It would make his wife a widow. It had caused him great pain and suffering. He knew that by carrying his cross in faith, there would lie opportunities to give God glory. He knew that if God could use Jesus’ cross to win us salvation, then even something as ugly as cancer, could have a shade of beauty. And in this way, Dave’s cancer was the heart of a vibrant ministry for the final days of his life. God called him to heaven through this cross and Christ was glorified in him through his testimony of faith. In a profound way, our crosses can be beautiful too. 

I don’t know what kind of a cross you’re carrying right now. But I do know that each one of us will have a cross to bear at some point. Let us never be so self-centered that we would think our crosses to be a greater injustice than the one carried by Jesus. Because though I will never deny how difficult and painful it may be for you, through faith I know that there is a shade of beauty to be found in every cross. There is purpose. There is opportunity to cling even more tightly to our Savior and to glorify his name.

This Good Friday, may you look for beauty in what most others will only see as tragedy.  May you see the control, and the determined love of your Savior as he dies for you. May you see and trust in the beauty of the cross.

Amen.