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It is Hidden in the Savior’s Rejection by the World

Passage: John 18:33-19:21

Date: March 12, 2025

Pastor: Pastor Horton

Up and under.  Up to Jesus’ cross.  And under our own.  As we continue the Lenten journey, we consider the cross bearing that we share with Christ and that he shares with us: The cross always brings rejection, and to our astonishment, that rejection has glory hidden in it.  And tonight we find rejection from the world.  The world does not understand the cross and does not want to.  Listen to a portion of Jesus’ trial before the world in the court of the Roman governor Pontius Pilate: “‘You are a king, then!’ said Pilate.  Jesus answered, ‘You are right in saying I am a king.  In fact, for this reason I was born, and for this I came into the world, to testify to the truth.  Everyone on the side of truth listens to me.’  ‘What is truth?’” Pilate asked.”

Could there be a sharper contrast?  On the one side is Jesus.  He testifies that he is a king and  that all who are on the side of truth listen to him.  Yes, listen to him in the sense of hearing and holding to his Word, in the sense of believing him, trusting him, and following after him. 

But on the other side, what does the world see?  A pathetic sight!  Ridiculous claim!  This Jesus a king?  Handed over by his own people who scream for his death?  Jesus’ kingdom consists of those who love the truth—and yet there is not one person who defends him, or speaks out for him, or is willing to come forward and declare himself a follower of this King?  Not one?  The world even prefers option B for Barabbas, a rebel and a murderer.  After all, how is it that this king is captive to a petty Roman official?  Beaten and spat upon by his own people.  Soon about to endure far worse at the hands of Pilate’s soldiers.  “Some king!”  The world says.  “Some kingdom!  Some truth!”

And there stands Pilate, vocal representative for the world.  He views and judges this Jesus through his eyes of human reason.  Will he uphold justice?  He listens to Jesus.  But no, justice would lose out to his love of his position and convenience.  His reason rules, and it finds the whole message to be nothing but foolishness, and a nuisance, and bother, and inconvenient, and sparking a troublesome mob.  Pilate sees no criminal in Jesus and yet punishes him anyways with flogging, a gruesome and painful torture that often killed its victims, and then the execution of this king. 

Why such hostility?  Such anger?  Such violence against someone that on the outside seems so weak and frail, even foolish?  It all hinges on that one little word that Jesus spoke to Pilate, the word “truth.”  Jesus said that he was the King of truth, who had come into the world to bear witness to the truth!  Pilate, however, wanted no truth from this Jesus.  He had already made up his mind.  He was not going to hear this guy preach about truth.  He reasoned, “there is only me; there is only the moment.  My truth is that I already have my needs, my wants, my will, my goals, my ambition, my pleasure, my power.  And we understand Pilate, because by nature we want what he does.  Any other truth is bound to get in the way of those things.  Something else?  Something more?  Such a truth would challenge me to give up my single-minded devotion to me. 

If Pilate would have listened, would things have turned out different?  No.  For the message of Jesus and his cross always provokes hatred and hostility from the world.  The truth of the law calling out my devotion to myself was there in fallen Eden and every day since.  This truth is that even in our best works and on our best days, we still offend the holiness and justice of God.  That truth is irritating.  We recoil at it.  Because we want divine truth to be about me in the moment.  This is evident over the pages of history, evident when I look into the honest mirror of God’s law, and evident from the mouth of Jesus.  And I still don’t want to hear it.  You and I declare with Pilate: “Away with this truth and the King who proclaims it!” 

But wait!  Thankfully there is more to the message from the King of truth than the guilty verdict over all of us and all our works.  He comes chiefly and primarily with this greatest truth of all: that he himself is the solution to the problem of our sin.  He is our only solution.

And how will he solve the problem of sin?  Will he give us a new law to keep?  Will he tell us that our sin doesn’t matter after all?  Will he bid us to just do the best we can and God will be satisfied and overlook the rest?  Is that the great truth that he brings?  No!  If that were the truth that Jesus brought, the people would not have flogged and crucified him.  But the King declares himself to be the only solution to the problem of sin, of death and hell that all deserve.  Christ alone will embrace all the sin and guilt of the world as our substitute.  The solution is that salvation will be a free gift, won by the crucified, secured for us by the crucified, and given in the message of the crucified.  But, tragically, the truth of the gospel that saves is even more despised than the truth of the law that condemns.

So here is the great mystery and the profound truth: So depraved is mankind that by nature we hate to be told the truth that we are depraved; and so great is our corruption that by nature we hate still more the truth that the only solution to the punishment we deserve is Jesus, the King of truth. You would think that people would stampede to this Jesus who delivers from death and hell.  Not so.  Now if we offered them free gas or free health care or free money, we would be trampled in the stampede.  But free salvation?  Free heaven?  Free rescue from hell?  No, not that!  “Away with him!  Crucify him!  Give us Barabbas!”

Jesus’ cross alone saves.  Up we go to follow.  Yet those who follow to the cross must also follow under the cross.  That is the mark of the Christian, the sign of the cross.  For wherever the King of truth appears with the message of truth, there will be hostility, opposition, and at times even violence.  

As a cross has two beams, so the hostility to the cross has two beams as well.  The first beam is the one that we carry from our own nature.  Our own flesh, along with Pilate, dismissed Jesus’ truth.  By nature we don’t want an answer outside of ourselves.  “Right and wrong that come from God?  I already have me” we reason.  “I’m going to value this today and that tomorrow.”  People shouldn’t commit adultery; but if my children or my friends live together before marriage.  “But I’ll just look the other way.”  People shouldn’t hold grudges or gossip.  “But, God, you don’t know what was done to me!”  People shouldn’t steal or cheat.  “But the prices are too high and people have stolen from and cheated me!”  People shouldn’t be arrogant and self-righteous, “but let’s face it, we really are better than most, aren’t we?”

Then comes the confession in the liturgy: “I, a poor miserable sinner.” “No, no,” objects our flesh, “I don’t want to hear about that.  It’s so depressing!.”  Then comes the message of forgiveness: “In the cross of Christ you have all you need.  You are forgiven.  Your sin washed away.  You are redeemed by Jesus and restored as a dear child of God!’”  But the inborn flesh likes that news even less!  “Well, yea but I work hard.  I deserve what I get.  God is at least a little bit lucky that I’m on his side, and be at least a little flattered that I believe in him at all, given the world we live in today.  And if he doesn’t treat me right, I’ll show him and walk away from him, his church, and his truth.”

So the first beam of the cross that we Christians carry is the beam of our own sinful nature that hates the truth of the law and despises the truth of the gospel.  The second beam is the hostility of the world, who simply can’t stand the message of truth about Jesus.  Our world wallows in vice and wears corruption as if it were a badge of honor.  Perversions demand honor and respect in the world.  And woe to anyone who says, “But the Bible shares truth.”  And woe to anyone who says, “Jesus is the only solution and the only way to heaven.”  “No, no!  Away with such a one,” the world declares.  “Away with such a one from the earth!” 

So we see Jesus today in our reading.  The King.  The one who brings truth, the only truth.  His glory and the glory of the truth that saves is hidden under the cross.  The world wants no part of him.  And still, watch his reaction!  You might expect a lightning bolt from heaven to strike the crowd or earthquake under Pilate’s to make the world listen to the truth that Jesus has come to proclaim.  He endures it!  He takes it!  

Truth from the King is enough.  The time will come for his awe and wonder – for his exaltation and for judgment.  But that is all in his hands and not ours.  We journey under the cross as we go up to the cross.  We share the weakness and the humiliation until the Last Day.  And why is that?  Because our glory too is hidden under the cross of rejection.  Jesus works his Word  quietly in hearts creating faith when and where the Spirit wills it.  It is a miracle brought on by the gospel message, not by our theatrics, cleverness, might, or merit.  

The whole world may want to get rid of the cross and its truth – and the world has tried for almost two thousand years.  Yet gospel truth remains in the world, creating faith as God wills.  The truth still creates saints who lay their whole lives of sin and shame at the foot of Jesus’ cross.  Thousands still rise up while under the cross, to sing the praises of the Lamb that was slain and has redeemed us by his blood.  They rejoice in Christ.  They do not depend on a poll or public opinion or the views of human intellect.  No, their certainty rests on the Word of God and the work of God, even under the cross of hostility and persecution.  Heaven and earth may pass away.  But what Jesus gives will last forever!  Oh, may we always remain in the blessed number of those who know that glory hidden under the cross. Amen.

“It is Hidden in the Savior’s Solitude”

Passage: Luke 18:31-34

Date: March 5, 2025, Ash Wednesday

Pastor: Pastor Horton

Our Lenten journey this year begins with the Lenten journey of Jesus and his disciples as it was so many years ago.  We hear Jesus’ call to go with him up to Jerusalem and to the cross  in Luke 18:31-34:  “He took the Twelve aside and said to them, “‘Look, we are going up to Jerusalem, and everything that is written through the prophets about the Son of Man will be accomplished.  Indeed, he will be handed over to the Gentiles.  They will mock him, mistreat him, spit on him, flog him, and kill him.  On the third day, he will rise again.’  They did not understand any of these things.  What he said was hidden from them, and they did not understand what was said.”

Jesus’ call to them and to us on this Ash Wednesday, gives us a bloodcurdling preview of what we are about to see in

this great drama of Lent.  It is horrible in the extreme.  It is shocking.  The Creator of the universe will be mocked and insulted?  How can that be?  The one who gave us breath at birth will be beaten within an inch of his life?  Is that possible?  He who is the author of every good and perfect gift that we have ever had since we were born, will be cruelly tormented and then shamefully executed?  His glory is hidden – hidden completely in the cross.

Do you ever wish that you could have been there?  Does the thought ever spring to mind: “Ah, Lord Jesus, if only you could have taken me along!  Maybe I could have helped you.  Maybe I could have wiped your face with a cool towel.  Maybe I could have yelled to the crowds that all that you were doing was for our salvation.  Maybe I could have been at least one witness on your behalf at your trials.  Maybe I could have done something, just some little thing, to lighten your burden, to show my love and gratitude for what you were doing for me.”  Don’t you sometimes want to say that to him as he begins his journey again to the cross?

Jesus takes us aside with the Twelve and announces, “We are going up to Jerusalem.”  And by faith we follow after him but we cannot help him.  The Twelve could not help him either.  Take note of the glory hidden in the coming cross.  Jesus makes it clear thatWe are going up to Jerusalem.”  And after that one little word, “we,” the subject of the sentence changes.  He does not say, “We are 

going up, and we will suffer.”  No.  We are going up.  But it is Jesus alone who will suffer.  The Son of Man alone will fulfill the Scriptures.  The Son of Man alone will be mocked, insulted, spit upon, flogged, and killed.  All who follow him to the cross, his first disciples and we along with them, can therefore only be spectators at this great drama that is about to unfold.  He will not go there to show off his glory.  His glory is that he alone is the Savior.  His glory is hidden in the horrible solitude of all he suffered that our salvation should be entirely the gift that comes through his cross and his alone.

This is the way it must be, Jesus would tell us.  For he is going with purpose.  He is going to fulfill the Scriptures, to fulfill all that was written about him in the Old Testament.  Nothing will soften the blows.  Nothing will relieve the pain.  No one will help him.  Not his mother, not the Twelve, not the church or the state; no one helped him. To be sure, the angels served him for a moment in Gethsemane.  But during his trial and execution, even the angels are nowhere to be told.  Oh, what sadness that we cannot help him whom we love and adore!

The truth is that we would prefer to have the shame of his passion hidden and the glory of his resurrection on display.  But Jesus will have none of that.  All will see his shame.  No one will view the glory of the resurrection.  That will be hidden and made known only by his Word and the testimony of the few who saw him after that incredible event.  

But there is still more to it than all that.  Not only do we not help him in his agony – we caused it all in the first place.  From beginning to end, all that he has said that he will do on this journey he is doing in our place, in our stead, and on our behalf.  Was he despised and rejected?  We should have been.  Was he left alone with no help in the hour of pain and sorrow?  We should be.  Did even his Father abandon him at the crucial moment on the cross so that in the midst of life he was suffering the torments of the condemned in hell?  That was our lot.  We were conceived and born deserving that.  We have turned aside from his Word and sinned every day so that we deserve his suffering for all time and for all eternity.  

And truth be told, we didn’t even care that our sins would bring him to such suffering, such abuse, such a death.  How many times in a day do we turn aside from him without even thinking and refuse even to go up with him to Jerusalem?  We have better things to do.  We have our minds and hearts fixed not on him but on our own pleasure and convenience.  It is easier to watch television or scroll on our phones than to pray.  It is more convenient to love gossip or the lusts of the flesh than his cross.  For family bickering, there is always time.  For his Word and a family devotion, well, perhaps later.  It is time now, we often think, for the sports highlights, not for highlights in his words of salvation.

And it gets worse still.  We imagine in our total wickedness and depravity that we are not totally wicked and depraved.  We yawn or maybe even get irritated when someone points it out, especially during Lent.  We vainly assume that somehow or other there is at least a scrap of merit in us for which we should not have to suffer and for which he should therefore not have had to suffer either.  To put it another way, we imagine there is some good in us that does not require his journey to the cross.  We don’t like to recognize, much less confess the sin of our arrogance. It is the sin of thinking that at least a little bit in us needs no forgiveness and, yes, is even deserving of some eternal reward.

Where’s Jesus?  Going up to Jerusalem to suffer for everything that we are and have been when we did not perfectly love God and serve him with all of our hearts, all of our minds, all of our strength.  And when was that?  Every moment of our lives!

For we go up to Jerusalem, up to the cross with him in Lent.  But don’t follow too closely, as if you were going to somehow be of help to him.  We can do nothing to help him.  All that we have done only adds to his sorrow, his pain, his suffering, his death.  We are the cause even on our best days.  We are his curse. 

And so we go up there with him, following him at a distance, as he carries his cross all alone.  It is Jesus who must suffer and die.  He, and he alone, must do it all, or we are doomed.  Just think of it!  If he had required our help in 

order to accomplish our redemption –  we only would have ruined it.  We are sinners.  We cannot do anything at all that does not carry the stench of sin, the smell of death, the sulfur of hell on it.  We go up with him.  But he must do it all, or we are lost.  That is the glory hidden in the solitude of the cross, the solitude that Jesus must do it alone or we must perish.

And yet take heart!  As we follow Jesus up to Jerusalem as he invited, we see in him: our deliverance!  Lent holds both sorrow and great joy.  He is our peace, our life, our salvation.  Listen to him as you go up with him to Jerusalem.  There is not one word of complaint that falls from his lips.  There is not the least trace of bitterness or 

anger in his tone.  He does not accuse us as we deserve.  He does not shame us as we might expect.  No, none of that.  He alone will suffer, and he will suffer alone.  

And that is exactly the way he wants it to be.  His march to Jerusalem is a march of doom for him but of triumph for us.  It is defeat and death for him but a victory parade for us.  His face is set with determination to do all that needs to be done to fulfill the Scriptures for us.  His will is like iron and cannot be bent to turn him away from his purpose of paying the price of our wickedness and our total depravity.  So full, so perfect, so complete is his love for us.  So full, so perfect, so complete is his yearning for our salvation.  He wants to do it!  He not only does not need our help; he does not want our help either!  Every fiber of his being strains and stretches on the way to the cross for our salvation.  Without our aid, he made us.  Without our aid, he redeems us.

Now let us go up to Jerusalem with him!  Let us follow him starting this Ash Wednesday, but not too closely as though we would help him.  Let us go up with him and follow to the cross.  Let us be filled with sorrow for our sin that caused it all.  But then let us be filled with joy beyond all sorrow, that he did it all and he did it alone in great love.  For that is the glory hidden on the cross, the glory that he wanted, the glory of redeeming us by his work there.  Let us watch and keep watching until we hear the victory cry: HE IS RISEN! HE IS RISEN INDEED!  Amen.

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