students of jesus

As followers of Jesus, we need to embrace Good Friday, which is a little bit like saying we need to embrace torture.

From that time on Jesus began to explain to his disciples that he must go to Jerusalem and suffer many things at the hands of the elders, chief priests and teachers of the law, and that he must be killed and on the third day be raised to life.
Peter took him aside and began to rebuke him. "Never, Lord!" he said. "This shall never happen to you!"
Jesus turned and said to Peter, "Get behind me, Satan! You are a stumbling block to me; you do not have in mind the things of God, but the things of men."
Then Jesus said to his disciples, "If anyone would come after me, he must deny himself and take up his cross and follow me. For whoever wants to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for me will find it.
Matthew 16: 21 - 25

Good Friday is the day when we remember the crucifixion of Jesus, but there’s more to it than remembering: Jesus calls us to the cross, too. The famous sermon says, "it's Friday, but Sunday's coming!" More properly the point of the story is that Friday is the road to Sunday. There's no Easter Sunday without Good Friday. There is no resurrection without the Cross; and as his followers, there's a Good Friday for all of us.

The very idea of Good Friday causes us concern. The problem is that both his power and wisdom led him to the Cross, a brutal denial of everything he had done before. Those who had seen his power wondered why he seemed powerless at his greatest need. Those who saw his intelligence wondered how someone so smart could miscalculate so badly. Both sides missed what Jesus and his Father were saying: “unless a grain of wheat falls into the ground and dies, it abides alone, but if it dies, it produces many.” (John 12:24) Not just his words: his very life is a parable.

It wasn’t just the people of Jesus’ day who had a problem with the Cross. Even today religious-minded people want miracles and power. In our day intellectually minded people want wisdom and truth. What God offers us all is first the Cross. The earliest believers called the Cross “the wisdom of God and power of God.” (I Corinthians 1: 23 - 24) This is a stumbling block for us to consider today: that both his power and wisdom led him to the Cross. People prefer not to dwell on such things. After all, who respects suffering?

You want to tell a story worth telling? Try this one: things are always darkest just before they go pitch black. And then, in the blackness of the truth--the truth that our own power or smarts are never enough we discover that we need to rely solely on the promise of the Father.

Once you’ve been to the Cross, everything changes: stumbling blocks and foolishness turn into power and wisdom. The Cross changes everything. If something’s pursuing you, then perhaps the event, which will change everything for you, is the Cross. If nothing is changing, maybe you haven’t been to the Cross.

Easter is indeed about the empty tomb. But first it’s about the Cross. Why are we in such a hurry to rush Jesus up to heaven? Is it because the Cross doesn’t fit into our picture of how things ought to be? It didn’t fit into anyone’s picture back then, either. But Friday is the road to Sunday. It was the road for Jesus; it is the road for us.

God promises never to forsake you, but it doesn’t always feel that way, right? Here are two of the phrases Jesus uttered on the Cross: “Why have you forsaken me?” and “Father, into your hands I commend my spirit.” How can those two go together? Even at his death, Jesus showed us how to trust the Father beyond the circumstances. His is the example of Job: “Though he will kill me, he’s still my only hope.” (Job 13: 15) The only safe place is the mercy of God, even if it appears he himself is against you.

Jesus predicted his death and resurrection. It's one thing to predict the future. It's quite another to go to the cross willingly. At least three times Jesus shared his destiny with the disciples. They didn’t understand. More challenging still is the fact that Jesus embraced this destiny by faith. He knew the Father’s promise of resurrection, but death still lay ahead of him. And death was still death, even for Jesus. It was his trust in the Father’s promise that caused him to wager everything he had, his very life. As a man, Jesus modeled how to trust the Father.

Sometimes God and we have the very same goals yet we find ourselves working against him. God wants to bring many sons and daughters to glory. And we want glory. What could possibly be the problem? The problem, as is so often the case, is that God means one thing while we mean another. What God calls glory came at great cost to him, still he offers it to all. We think we have a better way.

We think the path to glory is our own achievement; Jesus proved the path to glory was humility. We think glory comes in the noisy public square; God gives glory in the secret place of sacrifice. The Father wants to give glory to many; we want glory as a reward fit only for the few, provided that means us.

It turns out God’s way is as important as God’s will. He wants to “bring many sons to glory.” His method is his own suffering. “In bringing many sons and daughters to glory, it was fitting that God, for whom and through whom everything exists, should make the pioneer of their salvation perfect through what he suffered. Both the one who makes people holy and those who are made holy are of the same family. So Jesus is not ashamed to call them brothers and sisters” (Hebrews 2:10-11). It’s breathtaking: his suffering makes family of us all.

We use our version of glory to set us apart from others: we require the praise of men. Our version is just plain wrong. It blinds us from seeing—or tasting—the real thing. Jesus wanted nothing to do with fool’s glory: “I do not accept glory from human beings, but I know you. I know that you do not have the love of God in your hearts. I have come in my Father’s name, and you do not accept me; but if someone else comes in his own name, you will accept him. How can you believe since you accept glory from one another but do not seek the glory that comes from the only God?” (John 5:41-44)

To accept glory that comes from the praise of men is to celebrate a cheap imitation. We must choose between the fast food of praise and the deep soul work of suffering. Jesus suffered, and others came to glory. We prefer the praise of men because such praise is food of ego. It is cheap and goes down easy. We can find it on nearly any street corner. It is tasty and filling. But the praise of men rejects the deep work of God. He invites us to become deep people. The deep work is the slow work; it is also the lasting work. Four hundred years ago Richard Sibbes encouraged us toward the deep, slow rhythms of God: “Glory follows afflictions, not as the day follows the night but as the spring follows the winter; for the winter prepares the earth for the spring, so do afflictions sanctified prepare the soul for glory.”

The deep work prepares us for eternal joy. We do not pursue suffering in order to win glory: we endure suffering and discover Jesus there, waiting for us. The Apostle Peter assures us of a result (“joy unspeakable and full of glory”) even as he tells us the truth: “since Christ suffered in his body, arm yourselves also with the same attitude, because whoever suffers in the body is done with sin.“

Glory is the true gold of life with God. It is as rare as any true gold, but there are veins of his glory available. The same Jesus who suffered for us the one willing to suffer with us. Such is his glorious assurance.