By Rev. Dr. Brent Russett – Asbury Free Methodist
In 1831, a group of oppressed Christians gathered on a hillside in Lithuania. There they planted handmade crosses in the ground where they worshiped. The tradition grew until, at the end of the 19th century, there were 130 crosses on that small mountainside.
Years later, communist officials were determined to destroy all symbols of faith among the Lithuanian people. They bulldozed the hill of the crosses. Wood crosses were burned. Metal ones were used for scrap, and those of stone were covered with dirt.
The Soviet army guarded the hill, planning to flood the area so people could no longer reach it. Four times, they were forced to bring in bulldozers, for after each demolition, the Lithuanian peasants secreted crosses to the hill, and mysteriously, more crosses appeared than ever before. “Bulldozer Atheism,” as the Lithuanians dubbed it, lasted almost twenty years.
Once communism fell and Lithuania became an independent state, people flocked, once again, to the Hill of the Crosses. Today, over fifty thousand crosses stand on the small mount. People from all over the world come to worship in the tiny chapel there.
The hill of the Crosses symbolizes the indestructible power of the cross of Jesus Christ. For two thousand years, governments have sought to obliterate its memory, and cultures have tortured and murdered its adherents. But the cross stands eternally above all powers and principalities. In Christ’s death lies the only real hope for humankind. By embracing it, people from every nation have come to know and deeply love this one who gave His own life for them. (Contemplating the Cross Pg 13-14)
That story came from a book called “Contemplating the Cross,” which helped me express some of what I want to tell you today.
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1 Corinthians 1:18 (NIV)
18 For the message of the cross is foolishness to those who are perishing, but to us who are being saved it is the power of God.
This is the first Sunday of Lent. Through this season, we are going to journey with Jesus to the cross. My hope is that you will see the power of the cross. As we walk into the Garden of Gethsemane with Jesus and observe his betrayal. As we stand beside him at his trial, I hope you will get fresh insight into Jesus’ passion for you.
The good news of Jesus is that he came that we might have abundant life. But we couldn’t have abundant life without our sin being dealt with. Our sin is what separates us from God, who is the author of life. Jesus, the one who was truly man and truly God, dealt with our sins on the cross. Our sin was the reason he went to the cross. Our sin put him on the cross. He conquered sin, evil, and death. That is the power of the cross.
The journey to the cross is one of introspection. It is a time for deep mourning over the sins we have committed, which nailed Jesus there. The journey to the cross is sometimes difficult. It is laden with raw emotions, pain, and sorrow. But the journey to the cross is the way to life.
Let me pray a Lenten prayer over you. Let us pray.
Lord, in this season, let us walk through the final moments of your life with you. Let us hold your hurt, live in your loneliness, and experience what it cost you. For somehow, in embracing your pain, we may comprehend your love. Perhaps by grappling with your grief, we can conceive of your commitment to us. And in dying your despicable death, we might gain our own souls. We do not ask this lightly. We know we cannot come to the cross without being changed. Let us walk with you, Jesus. Jesus – make us ready for the journey – Amen.
(Adapted from pg 21 – Contemplating the cross)
Make us ready for the journey. In the cross, God is revealed, not as a distant observer over a world that has been ravished by sin, suffering and death, but as one who enters our suffering. In Isaiah, Jesus is called the “Man of Sorrows.” Philip Bliss wrote this hymn
“Man of Sorrows,” what a name
For the Son of God who came
Ruined sinners to reclaim!
Hallelujah! what a Savior!
2
Bearing shame and scoffing rude,
In my place condemned He stood;
Sealed my pardon with His blood;
Hallelujah! what a Savior!
3
Guilty, vile, and helpless, we,
Spotless Lamb of God was He;
Full redemption—can it be?
Hallelujah! what a Savior!
Let us walk with Jesus into the Garden of Gethsemane.
Matthew 26:36–38 (NIV)
36 Then Jesus went with his disciples to a place called Gethsemane, and he said to them, “Sit here while I go over there and pray.” 37 He took Peter and the two sons of Zebedee along with him, and he began to be sorrowful and troubled. 38 Then he said to them, “My soul is overwhelmed with sorrow to the point of death. Stay here and keep watch with me.”
Jesus and his disciples have just celebrated what we have come to know as the Last Supper. The hour is late. Jesus leads his disciples outside the city of Jerusalem onto the Mount of Olives into the Garden of Gethsemane.
Jesus motions to Peter, James and John to come with him. The others sit down quietly to wait – for what they did not know – as the three follow him into the recesses of the Garden.
Jesus moves slowly; his shoulders are stooped like the weight of the world is on his shoulders – because it was. Peter, James, and John glanced at each other, wondering what to do. Their teacher has never been like this before. They saw him cry when his friend Lazarus died. Only a week ago, they saw him cry as he entered Jerusalem riding on a donkey. He sobbed out loud over the spiritual poverty of Jerusalem. Yet that was a strong cry – laced with sadness perhaps, but not despair.
This. This was different. Overwhelming sorrow consumes our Lord. Through clenched lips, he utters: “My soul is deeply grieved to the point of death…,” a wretched cry erupts from the depths of his being.
What must it be like to grieve to the point of death? The language here speaks of both physical and mental anguish. Jesus knows not only the agony of soul but feels life itself slipping away.
Instead, he laments aloud the condition of his soul. My soul is deeply grieved to the point of death… Does he hope to be comforted? Wish things could be different? Is all this a surprise to the omniscient One? Didn’t he know before he came that his heart would tear in two.? Doesn’t the Son of God have no power over the pain that threatens to undo him?
A deathly quiet pervades the Garden of Gethsemane. Jesus grieves. Perhaps John looks around, ready to do something, anything to end this distress. Jesus’ body begins to shake. The man the disciples once thought would be king is now pale, gaunt, and powerless.
Man of sorrows and acquainted with grief… strange words to describe a Deity. But Jesus didn’t consider equality with God something to cling to. He gave up the comfort of heaven. Now, what must the Messiah think? Does he long for a taste of the days when angels sang, and all of creation cried out to his exalted presence? Would he shed his royal robes so readily in light of this smothering sadness?
Do you think the love that brought him into the world in the first place was faltering? A resounding NO echoes through the halls of eternity. While his body and soul shuttered at his upcoming death, he did not turn and run. Love held him there. (adapted from Contemplating the Cross, pg 22-23)
1 John 4:10 (NIV)
10 This is love: not that we loved God, but that he loved us and sent his Son as an atoning sacrifice for our sins.
God’s love for us preceded our love for God. Jesus’ love for us preceded our love for him. There was a time, and many people still live here, where Jesus loved us, and we didn’t love Jesus. Anne of Green Gables would describe that as unrequited love.
It was love that caused Jesus to say, “My soul is deeply grieved to the point of death.” Unrequited love. The world was oblivious to the struggle. It didn’t understand it’s need for a saviour. It wouldn’t, couldn’t reciprocate the love that Christ held for the world. Even his disciples, his best friends, slept through the struggle. Unreturned love.
His love for the world, his love for you, held him in the Garden and drove him to the cross. When he says, “My soul is deeply grieved to the point of death,” it happened because of you. It happened because of me. Our sin drove him there. The pain that you see Jesus in, in the Garden of Gethsemane, is for your sake. “My soul is grieved to the point of death;” was for our sake.
Until we understand that it was our sin that took him to the cross, we will never understand the depth of his love for us.
Isaiah 53:3 (NIV)
3 He was despised and rejected by mankind,
a man of suffering, and familiar with pain.
Like one from whom people hide their faces
he was despised, and we held him in low esteem.
We are all guilty of hiding our face. We are all guilty of not responding to his love. It was our sin, our rebellion, and our hatred that made Christ go to the cross. It was Love that caused him to go through with the cross. A love that was despised and rejected. It was for our sake.
Hear the passion of Jesus.
Matthew 26:38–39 (NIV)
38 Then he said to them, “My soul is overwhelmed with sorrow to the point of death. Stay here and keep watch with me.”
39 Going a little farther, he fell with his face to the ground and prayed, “My Father, if it is possible, may this cup be taken from me. Yet not as I will, but as you will.”
My father, if it is possible, let this cup pass from me… A heart-wrenching plea. Is this the Son of God? Weak Frail? Fighting to hold on? Surely, the Father longs to rescue him from this terrible plight. Can’t the whole thing end right here? Perhaps, except for the words, he summons the strength to add: “Nevertheless, not as I will but as you will”.
This is how it has been throughout his life on earth. Whether in the clamour and the chaos of relentless crowds or the silence of solitary nights, Jesus has pursued the Father’s will, for the Godhead celebrates a love affair unimaginable to human minds. Yes, for God so loved the world… But the Son so loves his Father that he fights the darkness with the desire to obey.
The flesh and blood battle is real. It saps Jesus’ strength, and twice, he walks away from it and goes back to his disciples. Perhaps to catch his breath or renew his determination. Each time he returns, it is the same. Burdened, battered by the war in his Spirit, he seeks another solution for sin-sick humanity.
The father holds out His hand, but it clutches a bitter cup. Jesus glances into its depths. The contents would be vile, filthy, and nauseating, even to those who have tasted sin. But to the Christ, whose heart is undefiled, the stench of it fills the air, the dark substance looming over him like an oozing sore. He who knew no sin became sin on our behalf.
His shaking intensifies. Perhaps he envisions himself taking the cup, drinking its bitter dregs until the poison of sin infects his whole body. His insides heave, catching in his throat.
A faint light to his side distracts him momentarily. Luke records
Luke 22:43–44 (NIV)
43 An angel from heaven appeared to him and strengthened him. 44 And being in anguish, he prayed more earnestly, and his sweat was like drops of blood falling to the ground.
Turning, he sees an angel. (Gabriel, Michael, or an unknown angel we do not know) Somehow, Jesus finds strength in the presence of this celestial being, and he prays once again: My Father, if this cannot pass away unless I drink it, Thy will be done.
With these words, the full agony of it all sweeps through the Garden like a tornado, churning the body, soul, and spirit of the Son of God until he almost passes out. Bloody sweat from bursting capillaries pours from his face, and large drops stain the ground.
All the forces of heaven and hell await the outcome of Christ’s struggle in this place. Demons laugh at his weakness; angels weep at what he has become. The Father stands back, unwilling to intervene. Jesus faces poverty of soul… and eternity hangs in the balance. (Pg 30-31)
For our sake. For our sake.
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Most of you understand what it means to take ownership of a problem when you have contributed to a problem. To take ownership means to own up to the contribution you made to the current problem. Asking forgiveness where forgiveness is needed, making restitution where that is required.
As you approach the Lenten season, you have a couple of options. You can watch the story go by like you would watch a movie. It may or may not grab you emotionally, but most movies, in the end, are simply nice stories.
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But if you understand that what Jesus did was for our sake – for your sake – it is no longer just a nice story. It becomes a story about our life. It becomes the place where the story of our God intersects with our story.
Every good story has a pivotal point or maybe a number of pivotal points. Everything changes because of the choice the main character makes. The boy chooses to talk to the girl. The girl has to choose one path or another. The choices made at those crossroads affect the rest of the story.
God loved us before we loved him. Jesus did what he did because he loved us before we ever loved him. He made a way for our sins to be forgiven. He made a way for the poison of sin to be remedied. He made a way where we can overcome in the face of sin and death.
Yet, we come to that pivotal point in the story – in our story. Will I receive what Jesus has done for me? Will I allow him to take my sin and give me his goodness? Will I choose to follow him or choose to go my own way? If you have never made the choice to ask Jesus to forgive your sin and choose to follow him – I encourage you to do that right now.
Most of you have made that decision. But in the season of lent, as we see the passion of Christ and we see again what he did for our sake – we may also see other pivot points in our story.
When I look at my own heart, it amazes me how deep the poison of sin goes. It also amazes me that the work of Christ goes deeper still.
I wonder what your pivot point is. I wonder where God is calling you next. Some of you are finding it hard to trust God when you listen to the news. The lack of trust comes out of the poison of sin.
Some of you are finding it challenging to forgive. Some are finding it hard to trust God for their contentment. Some of you are finding it difficult to give up things that you know are wrong for you or to do things that you know are right.
Some of you have a sense of what God is calling you to do but you have chosen not to act.
All these things are pivot points in our story. God invites us to let him go deeper into our story. Whether we say yes or whether we say no, we are choosing our story.
But when I see the love of Jesus, who loved us before we ever loved him – it makes me want to go his way. What about you? Are there places where Jesus is saying, “Trust me? Come follow me.”
This Lenten season, we are going to journey with Jesus to the Cross. This journey has the potential to pivot your life for the good. If we here at Asbury were to continually make choices to pivot towards him this Lenten season – we would have a church full of amazing disciples.”
This season don’t just observe Lent. Participate in it by following Jesus to the cross. Follow Jesus as you come to those pivot points. As we see the passion of Jesus and experience the power of the cross, it will change you. It will change us.