A year ago today, one of the greatest friends I’ve ever had went home to be with the Lord. It doesn’t seem like it’s been that long, but the calendar doesn’t lie. The last year hasn’t been easy for me, or for those that knew Travis.

Today is also Sunday, The Lord’s Day. I have to admit, going to church today didn’t sound all that interesting. We were having a Palm Sunday celebration, with special music and all sorts of things that ordinarily would have been right up my alley. Being around people and celebrating just didn’t seem to fit what I was feeling, though. When we woke up this morning, it was gray and rainy outside, and I hated it. I hated it because it fit my mood. I hated it because Travis died in an accident caused by a rainy day. Between getting dressed and making sure our son didn’t find more toys to throw in the toilet, I found some Facebook pictures posted of Travis and choked back the tears when I found one of the two of us from a few years back. I was “helping” Travis coach a middle school basketball team. I say “helping”, because he was the only one who actually knew what we were supposed to be doing. I was along for the ride.

During the 25-minute drive to church, my mood grew steadily worse. Questions I though I’d dealt with came back up. I didn’t understand why it happened a year ago, and I still don’t understand today. I remembered some of the good times we had, and I thought about where I was when I found out about the accident. I remembered the funeral. Travis was a police officer, and I remember driving from the church to the cemetery in the longest procession of cars I’d ever been in. There were so many police cars, the blue and red and white lights reflecting off of the trees and buildings made it look like the Fourth of July, only more somber. As we passed through little towns, business owners and patrons came out to watch all of us drive by. Many stood at attention. The police and local fire departments stopped traffic at each intersection until we had all passed. I remember thinking that I’ve never been so proud to have known someone. It was an event befitting a hero, and that is exactly what Travis was. His church knew it. His family knew it. His son’s school knew it. His coworkers knew it. The inmates at the prison he ministered at knew it. It felt like the only One who didn’t know how important Travis was to everyone was God. As blasphemous as that last sentence sounds, that’s how I felt after the accident, and that’s how I felt this morning driving to church.

We got to church, dropped our son off in the nursery, and found a seat. As the service began, I thought of how darkly ironic it was that, on a day we were celebrating “death swallowed up in victory”, my thoughts continually turned to how, one year ago, life had been swallowed up by death. It just seemed so wrong. Everybody did an excellent job this morning. The pastor preached between choir songs, and I struggled the whole way through, wrestling with my lack of understanding. I felt like walking out.

Then the unexpected happened. The back doors opened, and people came marching in, carrying banners. These were not flags of our nation or the “Christian flag”. They were banners with different names for Christ and Bible verses on them. The men carrying the banners marched down the aisles, and placed the banners one at a time in stands across the stage. I wondered if that was something like what worship in Heaven would be like. Then, it reminded me of that procession from funeral to graveside, how proud I was of the honor Travis was receiving. To hear the applause of the congregation and the choir’s song, to see those banners spread across the stage made me realize how worthy Christ is of our praise. I was reminded of the words of Job 13:15: “Though he slay me, yet will I trust Him.” Though I didn’t understand Him or His ways, Jesus was worthy of being trusted still.

Up on the stage, the banner entitled “Lion of the Tribe of Judah” stood facing me. On it was a picture of a Lion’s face. Perhaps the face was meant to be solemn, or gentle, or sympathetic, or….I don’t really know what effect it was meant to have. I only know that, staring at the picture of the Lion that stared back at me with big, green, understanding eyes, I felt a bit like Lucy from the Chronicles of Narnia. To paraphrase C. S. Lewis, the Lion of the Tribe of Judah is not a tame Lion. Through the voice of Mr. Beaver, Lewis explains the tension between fear and awe this knowledge brings. Lucy asks him whether or not the Lion is safe, since He is not tame. Mr. Beaver replies: “’Course he isn’t safe. But he’s good. He’s the King, I tell you.”

So it is with Christ. He isn’t safe. He works in ways that we don’t understand, but He is good. He is the King, and He is worthy of praise. He is good to us even when we question Him, and lovingly draws us closer to Himself. For this, I am truly grateful.

To quote William Cowper:

God moves in a mysterious way
His wonders to perform;
He plants His footsteps in the sea
And rides upon the storm.

Deep in unfathomable mines
Of never failing skill
He treasures up His bright designs
And works His sovereign will.

Ye fearful saints, fresh courage take;
The clouds ye so much dread
Are big with mercy and shall break
In blessings on your head.

Judge not the Lord by feeble sense,
But trust Him for His grace;
Behind a frowning providence
He hides a smiling face.

His purposes will ripen fast,
Unfolding every hour;
The bud may have a bitter taste,
But sweet will be the flower.

Blind unbelief is sure to err
And scan His work in vain;
God is His own interpreter,
And He will make it plain.

“This activity is sinful.” “That man’s preaching is heresy.” “That lifestyle isn’t Scriptural.” You’d be hard-pressed to get people to make that statement today. Christians have become pretty comfortable with tolerance these days, and it’s killing us. We’d rather live and let live, quoting Jesus’ “Judge not” from Matthew 7 as we skip merrily through life. That simply isn’t the life we’ve been called to, though. Oh, understand, I’m not saying we ought to go out and look for trouble. I’m not saying we should pick people apart as if we were the Holy Spirit’s deputy. I am saying, however, that we ought to have a little discernment, and a lack of discernment is deadly. Truth cannot be sacrificed on the alter of convenience, fairness, or culture. Considering that Christ IS Truth, and that Truth is a source of freedom, we must learn to protect Truth at all costs.

Unfortunately, we are living in a world the witches from Shakespeare’s Macbeth would have appreciated greatly, for we are living in a society that truly believes that “fair is foul and foul is fair.” Frankly, we are also living in a society that doesn’t think there is any real difference between splendor and horror. “Judge not!”  Jesus says. He also prays that His followers would live together in unity. The banner flying high in many churches and in the lives of many believers is “Unity at all Costs!” I’d like to take a closer look at Jesus’ prayer in John 17. Is Jesus really making unity the standard for believers?

1. First of all, Jesus is clearly praying for true believers. He makes their eternity known and secure, and their relationship with God is foundational to this unity. We are never called to be intimately unified with unbelievers, for there is a fundamental difference between the believer and the unbeliever. We are not supposed to cloister ourselves, of course, but we must be first clear that there is a distinction between believer and unbeliever.
2. Secondly, Jesus is praying for believers who, in the words of Christ, “have kept Thy Word.” Jesus’ prayer for unity assumes that these believers are also dedicated followers of His teachings.
3. Thirdly, this unity which Jesus prays for is brought about by personal purity based on Truth. This Truth is found in God’s Word: “Sanctify them through Thy Truth; Thy Word is Truth.”
4. Finally, Jesus prays that the Church would be holy, that we would be kept from evil and worldliness.

No call to unity should be devoid of an emphasis on holiness, purity, and Truth. Jesus didn’t make this prayer to the Father in a vacuum. He surrounded this concept of unity in doctrinal and personal purity. While it is important to love each other and work towards unity, we must never forget that some things are not for sale.

There are no blue pomegranates. None. No such thing. Anywhere. Why is that fact interesting to me? Well, mainly because God commands the Jews of Moses’ day to include them on the priestly garment. What’s the spiritual significance of this? Well, I’ve heard that pomegranates represent righteousness or sacrifice, but, for the most part, the pomegranates seem to be mostly “just” for decoration. God commands the Israelites to make representative art that is a creative variation on what already exists. He commands them to “make” blue pomegranates when none actually exist. That’s pretty important from a theological and artistic point of view. It’s important because it seems that God doesn’t mind fanciful creativity (blue pomegranates instead of red or purple ones). It’s also important because God Himself doesn’t state any specific reason for pomegranates to be used. There is no obvious practical purpose. The priestly garments aren’t alone in the “art for art’s sake” department, though.

The candlesticks in the Holy Place were adorned with almond blossoms and flowers. 2 Chronicles 3 gets very specific about the aesthetics of the Temple. It records of Solomon’s work: “And he garnished the house with precious stones for beauty.” Why were there jewels in the Temple? Some deep, spiritual significance? Did they represent the tribes of Israel, the coming of Messiah, or foreshadow salvation? No. They were there for beauty- just to look at. Nothing pragmatic or utilitarian about it. God simply wanted His house to be beautiful. He basically comes out and says that He is interested in beauty. So God has Solomon overlay the walls with gold. He adds free-standing pillars with pomegranates on chains, just for decoration. In the next chapter, He has Solomon add a type of fountain, and it was held aloft by statues of cows.  The fountain itself was engraved with lilies.

I hear the argument already: “But this is artwork for a religious purpose!” I could remind you of the description of Solomon’s throne room in 1 Kings 10, with its twelve lions made of gold-covered ivory. Of course, there were two other lions behind the throne, which some scholars believe could have actually been live lions kept there just for effect! I could remind you of David’s beautiful ode to Saul and Jonathan, recorded in Scripture- yes, but the work itself is secular. What about Song of Solomon? It’s a beautiful love story, but it’s got little to do with spiritual things, at least not in the traditional sense.However, I’d rather not remind the reader of these things. My simple answer to the “The Arts are only good for religious purposes” argument is “where’s that in Scripture?” Of course the Arts are mentioned in Scripture in the context of worship. Music abounds throughout Scripture, and oh the variety of instruments God’s people have used through the ages! Ezekiel 4 records Ezekiel’s prophecy through drama, and Exodus 15 records Miriam’s “timbrels and dances.” However, nowhere does it say the Arts can’t be used for something else. Somebody, somewhere made up that rule, and much of the Church is enslaved to it.

Do we place such requirements on other areas of life? Or, more importantly, does Scripture place such requirements on other areas of life? “Whether therefore ye eat, or drink, or whatsoever ye do, do all to the glory of God.” That doesn’t sound like a prohibition against “secular” things to me. For that matter, where do we get the idea that there are secular realms of life anyway? “This is my Father’s world”, and I have a hard time believing He made it so that we could ignore it for the sake of lofty pursuits. We evangelicals make the mistake of being concerned about the soulish aspects of mankind to the neglect of the whole of mankind. If Jesus really is Lord, is He not the Lord of the physical and the spiritual, the sacred and the “secular”? If God is concerned with beauty (for beauty is an aspect of holiness, and He is the thrice-holy God), should we not also be concerned with beauty as well? The Church has neglected the Arts for far too long. In an interview for Focus on the Family’s The Truth Project, Christian artist Makoto Fujimura said: “The Church may have left the arts, God did not. I think Biblically speaking the Church needs to be a source of creativity. Because we left culture to people who do not know Christ, I think we left an empty vacuum we are paying for right now.” How right Mr. Fujimura is!

I’ll close with a quote from Francis Schaeffer’s Art and the Bible:

“The arts and the sciences do have a place in the Christian life- they are not peripheral. For a Christian, redeemed by the work of Christ and living within the norms of Scripture and under the leadership of the Holy Spirit, the Lordship of Christ should include an interest in the arts. A Christian should use these arts to the glory of God, not just as tracts, mind you, but as things of beauty to the praise of God. An art work can be a doxology in itself.”

Let your life be a hymn of praise to the incredible glory of a creative God!

Well, some lessons are harder to learn than others, and I’ve learned a big one recently. Well, actually I’ve been learning it. I just happen to have a particularly thick skull. Just ask my wife. Anyway, here’s the deal: I used to think that one of the hallmarks of my ministry is mercy. Youth ministry or Bible teacher, I’m a fairly compassionate individual, and compassion is a good thing. I’m a listening ear if someone’s having a rough day, and I do my best to put myself in the other person’s shoes before making a judgment call. For instance, my students took an essay test over the book of Romans earlier this semester. Frankly, not everyone got the answers right, but I was merciful- by my definition, anyway- and moved on. That came around and bit me square on the rear today. It was exam day, and I included a few of the same questions. My students, being pretty sharp, put down the exact same answers they had the last time. The problem was I was no longer concerned with cutting slack on the first real test they took, and things didn’t go so well for some of them. They were understandably confused at the grades they earned, and I had to backpedal and come up with an alternate solution to the problem I had created. My new motto when grading: show no mercy!

Here’s the deal: mercy is a great character quality, but not if it is the only character quality you have. Mercy needs Truth to give it some legitimacy. Actually, Mercy and Truth make great companions:

• And he said, Blessed be the LORD God of my master Abraham, who hath not left destitute my master of his mercy and his truth: I being in the way, the LORD led me to the house of my master’s brethren. – Genesis 24:27
• All the paths of the LORD are mercy and truth unto such as keep his covenant and his testimonies.- Psalm 25:10
• God shall send forth his mercy and his truth. For thy mercy is great unto the heavens, and thy truth unto the clouds. – Psalm 57:3, 10
• Mercy and truth are met together; righteousness and peace have kissed each other.- Psalm 85:10
• By mercy and truth iniquity is purged: and by the fear of the LORD men depart from evil.- Proverbs 16:6

It’s that last verse that get’s me, by the way. The problem of evil is a complex one. How is it made clean? Harsh rules and strict punishments? Rehabilitation? No, by mercy and truth mingled together. It isn’t easy to reformulate your concept of ministry, but I feel like I have to. I’m not really sure that I’ve communicated reality to people, at least not as well as I should have. In reality, sin is sin, and should be treated as such. In reality, certain behaviors, words, and attitudes are unacceptable. In reality, some answers are wrong, even if you try. The harsh realities of the real world are out there, and it isn’t merciful to expose someone to those realities without preparing them for what lies ahead.

My friend Josh pointed me to this video series from Youtube. Pretty interesting stuff!

“My God, My God, why have you forsaken me?” The profound implications of this statement simply cannot be missed. God’s holiness and love collided in a moment of tortuous anguish, and our redemption was finalized. Behold the horror of sin. Behold the beauty of grace.

Think about it for a moment. While on the cross, Jesus became legally guilty for all of the worst in humanity. Pornography. Genocide. Greed. Child abuse. Murder. Infidelity. Homosexuality. Pride. Malice. It almost seems blasphemous to think about. What happened on that day? We cannot comprehend it all, and so God veiled the earth in darkness.

For all of eternity, Christ had been the object of the Father’s love, enveloped in the Spirit’s presence, and They, the Godhead, enjoyed the fellowship of Each Other. Now Christ was forsaken by the Father. He was still God, but the fellowship was no longer there. Was it just Jesus that felt the stinging results of sin? What Father could remain unmoved at the loss of a Son? God Himself chose suffering because He loved. Make no mistake, Jesus did not die so that God would love us; Jesus died because the Father had loved us before the world was formed. Several thousand years before the time of Christ, another father prepared to sacrifice his son until God spoke from Heaven of another way. The voice that broke forth on the mountaintop of Moriah was silent at Calvary. P.T. Forsyth once wrote: “God must either inflict punishment or assume it. He chose the latter course.”

And can it be that I should gain

An interest in the Savior’s blood?

Died He for me, who caused His pain?

For me, who Him to death pursued?

Amazing love! How can it be

That Thou, my God, shouldst die for me?

Maybe they were partners in crime, wheeling and dealing to make a living. Did circumstances drive them toward a life of crime, or was this just an easy way to make a quick buck? Who knows how long they had been in prison. Who knows if it was the very first time they’d been in prison. It was sure to be their last.

So they were both led to Skull Hill that morning, suffering the same whipping, mocking, and shame as Christ. It was a painful way to die. Your options were either suffocation or dehydration. If you lasted long enough, the soldiers would break your legs so you could no longer push yourself up on the stake driven through your ankles and gasp for air. Bleak, depressing, shameful, painful. Not at all a position you’d want to find yourself in. Yet hope comes from unusual places when God’s will is playing out.

They heard the jeering crowd, and among them a group of people saying to each other: “He saved others but can’t save Himself!” If they could see Him, and the plaque that hung above Him, they would see that Pilate had labeled Him “King of the Jews.” They heard Jesus speak the now-famous words: “Father, forgive them……” Who was that man who hung between them?

Both thieves prayed that day. One asked Jesus to save the three of them. He didn’t repent. He didn’t recognize Who he was speaking to. Like the other Jews of his day, he didn’t expect a Messiah that could be killed, one that wouldn’t seek to overthrow Rome.

But then there was the other thief, the one with the faith that outstripped that of the disciples on that day. Other than John, where were they? Cowering in their homes, weeping over their open denial of Christ. This thief spoke before the sky went dark, before the earthquake that ripped the temple’s veil in two, before resurrection or ascension. Yet his humble faith was so strong, so specific, that he asked Jesus to remember him in the Kingdom. Who would ask this of a helpless dying Man? Arthur Pink asks:

“How can we explain that this dying thief took a suffering, bleeding, crucified man for his God!”

“If I go to prepare a place for you, I will come again, and receive you unto Myself.” That’s the promise Jesus made to the disciples. This thief on the Cross received the same promise! “This day you will be with me in Paradise.”

The dying thief rejoiced to see

That fountain in his day;

And there may I,though vile as he,

Wash all my sins away.

‘Five bleeding wounds He bears;

Received on Calvary

They pour effectual prayers,

They strongly plead for me;

“Forgive him, O, forgive,” they cry,

“Nor let that ransomed sinner die.”

I always found Jesus’ cry for forgiveness to be a touch on the fantastic side. “Father, for give them, for they know not what they do.” Did the Jews know what they were doing? I daresay they did. Did the Romans know what they were doing? I have no doubt. The religious leaders knew they were illegally and unjustly prosecuting Jesus. The bloodthirsty crowd got worked up over the whole ordeal. Pilate knew, and tried washing the blood from his hands. Jesus prays for mercy for the sin of ignorance they had committed. They knew they had murdered Jesus, but they didn’t know the sheer enormity of what they had done.

The intensity of God’s holiness must be satisfied somehow, and the Cross was God’s way to fulfill this need. The Cross is the self-substitution of God Himself on our behalf. “The precious, unmerited favor of God” can be extended to all of us because while we, like the religious leaders of Jesus’ day, are aware that we sin, we have no idea the sheer magnitude of our sin or what it cost the God-Man on that day.

“Let His blood be on us and on our children!” the crowd roared. Instead of fulfilling their words to the letter as He was well within His power to do, God applied Christ’s blood to the hearts of those that would receive Him. What could have been the basis for guilt became the basis for forgiveness.

“God turned their words around and applied Christ’s blood for the far more glorious work of their eternal salvation.”- Jim Nance

Who put Jesus to death? Was it Pilate? Herod? Mel Gibson took a big hit when he appeared to blame the Jews in his Passion of the Christ. While he’s not exactly the kind of man I’d laud with honor, he at least gets it kind of right when he reportedly had a cameo as the hands crucifying Jesus. Was it our sins that put Christ on the Cross? All of these answers are great, but they are but partial truths.

“Yet it pleased the LORD to bruise him; he hath put him to grief…”- Isaiah 53:10

Make no mistake about it: God crushed His Son. Peter says that he was “delivered by the determinate counsel and foreknowledge of God.” (Acts 2:23) As a part of God’s plan, Jesus got Himself crucified. I’ve known my own son for five days now, and I can tell you I’d take a bullet- no, I’d face a whole army for the little guy. What kind of father crushes his own son?

Why would God do this? John Piper says: “He did it to resolve the dissonance between His love for His glory and His love for sinners.” (The Pleasures of God, 164) How often have you heard that God forgives because He loves us? To be sure, His motivation came at least partially from His love, else what would we make of John 3:16? But the motivation for forgiveness is not the same thing as the basis of forgiveness. Justice must be satisfied before grace can be extended to the sinner. Make no mistake, though. It was not only the Son who was pained by the separation. The Father, too, was pained by what happened on Golgotha that day.

The other side of the coin is this: Jesus wouldn’t have had to do it had it not been for us. We weren’t the deciding factor in whether or not Christ died, but we were the benefactors of His death. The Cross exposes our own worthlessness, reminds us of sin, and leaves us with bowed heads and broken spirit. Herbert Butterfield once wrote:

“The Crucifixion, however else we may interpret it, accuses human nature, accuses us of the very things that we think are righteousness….Our attitude to the Crucifixion must be that of self-identification with the rest of human nature- we must say, ‘We did it.’”

How much greater is Christianity than the other religions? How much greater is Christ than the pagan gods? It is in the Cross that the difference is made so obviously plain.

The other gods were strong, but Thou wast weak.

They rode, but Thou didst stumble to thy throne.

But to our wounds only God’s wounds can speak,

And not a god has wounds but Thou alone.

What a deadly combination: love and courage. A strong and powerful love, willing to face challenge in spite of fear, willing to make enemies for the sake of its object. A love that is not afraid of making enemies for the sake of righteousness. Where has this sense of fierce love gone in our culture? Love is now seen in a feminized incarnation, bereft of might. That’s not the love of the God-Man, Jesus Christ.

“And he entered again into the synagogue; and there was a man there which had a withered hand. And they watched him, whether he would heal him on the sabbath day; that they might accuse him. And he saith unto the man which had the withered hand, ‘Stand forth.’ And he saith unto them, ‘Is it lawful to do good on the sabbath days, or to do evil? to save life, or to kill?’ But they held their peace. And when he had looked round about on them with anger, being grieved for the hardness of their hearts, he saith unto the man, ‘Stretch forth thine hand.’  And he stretched it out: and his hand was restored whole as the other. And the Pharisees went forth, and straightway took counsel with the Herodians against him, how they might destroy him.”- Mark 3:1-6

So much for conflict management! Jesus didn’t have to heal the man at that very moment. He could have waited until sunset, the end of the Sabbath, and the healed the man. Instead, Jesus faced the Pharisees head on. He asks them a question to challenge them. Does the law permit saving a person’s life on the Sabbath?  “Jesus makes withholding the cure of the man’s paralyzed hand, even for a few hours, tantamount to killing him,” writes Joel Marcus, student of the New Testament. Jesus is angry with the Pharisees, but it is an anger grounded firmly in grief for their hardened hearts.

The love I speak of is not Christ’s love for the invalid, for it is hard not to feel compassion on those who are suffering. I speak today of Christ’s love for the Pharisees. Jesus wasn’t a troublemaker here; He is the wooer of men’s souls. He knows the gross error of the Pharisees and, loving them as He does, chooses to confront them with their error rather than ignore it.

Such is the profoundly dangerous nature of courageous love.