Collision at the Cross

There are people who deny the cross has any meaning. They know that Jesus was killed on a cross--that is historical fact--but some believe that the act was a miscarriage of justice against a model of servanthood and integrity, nothing more. Sad that such evil exists in the world, they sigh, but what can you do, except do better and try harder to live up to Jesus’ example and command to love God and others.

But when I read the Gospel accounts--based on eyewitness testimony--and Paul’s Letter to the Colossians, it is clear that something powerful happened on that hill at Calvary beyond human means or reckoning. In Matthew chapter 27, several physical events are described: darkness covers the land from noon to 3, the hours Jesus was on the cross; at the moment of his death, there is an earthquake, rocks split and tombs open; eyewitnesses saw "holy" people who had died raised to life and come out of the tombs; and at the temple in Jerusalem, the veil (curtain) separating the Holy of Holies from the rest of the temple was torn from top to bottom. The veil was sixty feet in height and four inches thick. Back at the cross, the Roman centurion and other guards present were terrified as the earthquake hit, and knew instantly that Jesus was no ordinary person: “Surely this was the Son of God!”

In Colossians, my favorite of Paul’s letters, the apostle makes clear what is still murky business for some: the collision at the cross involved more than human agency. There is a clash of Titans, if you will: spiritual forces are battling, and only one side wins.

Paul argues that we must remember who Jesus is: The Son is the image of the invisible God, the firstborn over all creation. For in him all things were created: things in heaven and on earth, visible and invisible, whether thrones or powers or rulers or authorities (1:15-16). For in Christ all the fullness of the Deity lives in bodily form, and in Christ you have been brought to fullness. He is the head over every power and authority (Col. 2:9-10).

And then Paul explains that Jesus’ death defeated the very powers and authorities that stood in the way of our freedom to love and be with God: sin and death, which the earth had been cursed with since Satan tempted Adam and Eve in the Garden. When you were dead in your sins ... God made you alive with Christ. He forgave us all our sins, having canceled the charge of our legal indebtedness, which stood against us and condemned us; he has taken it away, nailing it to the cross. And having disarmed the powers and authorities, he made a public spectacle of them, triumphing over them by the cross (2:13-16).

Something happened on a hill two thousand years ago of such power, that those present were shaken--literally. Each of us comes face to face with that same cross when we ask ourselves, “Is Jesus real? Does His death have any meaning for my life today?” Yes, because He lives! “You were also raised with him through your faith in the working of God, who raised him from the dead” (2:12). You don’t have to do better and try harder to be like Jesus: the Author of all life, the Head over all authority and power, gives you the power to live and love freely through faith in Him, through the Holy Spirit!

*The painting is by James Tissot (French, 1836-1902). The Confession of the Centurion (La Confession du Centurion), 1886-1894. Opaque watercolor over graphite on gray wove paper. Brooklyn Museum. In the public domain.

So, sin can be a good thing???

God uses all things, even my sin, ultimately for my good.

When I think on this, Matthew 5:3 comes to my mind. I’m especially fond of the way it reads in The Message paraphrase:

You're blessed when you're at the end of your rope. With less of you there is more of God and His rule.

Guess that’s what I can say is the biggest way God has used even my selfish, stupid sins for my own good; my sin and the results have made me realize that I really am nothing. That it’s only through God that my life has value and meaning. It’s only when I’m in connection with Him that the gifts, personality, and talents that He created me to use for His glory flourish.

I could relate to Joyce’s post this week in that I grew up in church and was a total goody two shoes. One of the good things about that is that I stayed out of trouble, one of the bad things is that it can be easy to see others as mess ups. But in my twenties, thirties and even my early forties I had more than enough of my own mess ups. I had this intense need to be loved and valued; unfortunately I looked for the fulfillment of these needs in people. So of course I was never satisfied. It wasn’t until after two failed marriages, and untold heartache that I really begin to learn, on more than a head level, that the love my heart so hungered for, and the value I so earnestly sought after, could only be found in my relationship with God.

So, would I say that my sin was a good thing? No, I can’t exactly say that. But I can say that God in His grace and mercy took something as yucky as my own sin and used it to change me into someone better. Used it to bring me to a place where I desired Him foremost. Used it to bless me.

Isn’t God good?!

Call Me Jo-Jo

Sin, huh?  That subject can go a lot of different places.  When I was a kid David Wilkerson and his Teen Challenge Ministry were just getting notoriety in Brooklyn.  For a short while, some of the staff and recovering addicts came to the Norwegian Pentecostal church where I grew up.  I suppose the calmness of Pentecostal worship or the feeling that perhaps only Norwegians were truly welcome there led them to go elsewhere.

When I was just shy of a teenager we went to another more lively church, Calvary Tabernacle pastored by Dr. Benjamin Crandall who is now on staff at Times Square Church with the famous David Wilkerson.  I loved seeing more lively worship.  It seems the Teen Challenge staff and recovering addicts were now sitting in the pews of this church.

It was there that sin became very attractive to me.  Oh I dabbled in smoking and learned to swear – these were big sins in the Pentecostal church.  I also wore make-up another major sin.  Movies were added but that didn’t seem as “sin-like” since it was something my parents added as well.  Cards were still frowned upon but we played gin with Rook cards so as not to sin.

No those weren’t the sins that attracted me.  You see, in those days, recovery addicts were glorified.  Yes, hallelujah, I really mean that, no sarcasm – hallelujah they were set free.  However, for a good little church girl whose biggest sin was swearing and trying to smoke it seemed if you were good, no one cared.  Even so, I carried a lot of guilt.

But the need for attention overrode the guilt.  Lying began to be an option.  Fortunately fear and God kept me from doing the things I claimed I did.  A game of “stump the youth pastor” became the main vehicle for attention. 

Calvary had a youth pastor.  It wasn’t as common in those days for a Pentecostal church to have one – oh maybe a youth leader would occasionally emerge, but a youth “PASTOR” was rare.  A young couple became the youth pastors of our new church.  The wife’s sister had been engaged to my brother at one time.  She now was married to someone else and on staff at Teen Challenge.  The two sisters were part of a well-known musical ministry family from Massachusetts.

The youth pastor and his wife seemed very genuine.  Ahhh, they were the perfect prospects for the “stump the youth pastor.”  A friend and I would conspire and make up stories to tell our respective youth pastors.  We would tell them of our sins.  Most were made up.  I asked people to call me Jo-Jo as it sounded Brooklyn like, better than Joyce.

Drugs, sex, alcohol, all manner of evils were conjured up for a form of confession.  I remember one time the wife of my youth pastor crying over me as I had told her a salacious story of my sins – all untrue.

I still feel bad about “stumping the youth pastors.”  They were good people.  What I did was sin.  That sin led to my parents believing these lies as well.  It led to being moved to Missouri.  My life was forever changed and altered as we moved away from Brooklyn.

The truth of the matter was that I loved God through all of this.  I just wanted to be like those people who had a “testimony.”  Now my testimony is that yes, while I have always been pretty much of a goodie-two-shoes on the outside, on the inside I cried for attention through sinning.  My testimony is that God loves me and has forgiven me.  My testimony is that through all the twists and turns of my life, through an abusive marriage, poverty, abandonment, and such, all things have worked together for good.