Luke 18:31-34 * Ash Wednesday 2007 * Pastor Leyrer

Dear Friends in Christ,

It was just a few days ago that we journeyed with Jesus to the Mount of Transfiguration. There we were given a glimpse of His glory – and the glory that will one day be ours for all eternity. For both Jesus and us it was literally and spiritually a mountaintop experience.

But He didn’t stay there. There was another mountain yet to be climbed. A verse of one of the hymns we sang last Sunday put it this way:

Strange how his journey ended! In love that is his fame

Our Lord again ascended a mount – the hill of shame.

Upon the cross he proffered himself to agony

His holy soul he offered to set the guilty free.

And for the next forty days and for five additional midweek Lenten services we’ll be making that journey with Him under the theme: “Behold the Hidden Glory of the Cross.” Tonight we will consider how

IT IS HIDDEN IN THE SAVIOR’S SOLITUDE

1. His cross makes us sad

2. At the same time, His cross makes us glad

Let us enter this new season of Lent by reflecting on the words of our Lord recorded for us in Luke 18:31-34:

Jesus took the Twelve aside and told them, “We are going up to Jerusalem, and everything that is written by the prophets about the Son of Man will be fulfilled. He will be handed over to the Gentiles. They will mock him, insult him, spit on him, flog him and kill him. On the third day he will rise again.” The disciples did not understand any of this. Its meaning was hidden from them, and they did not know what he was talking about.

In Jesus’ call to us on Ash Wednesday, He gives us an unadorned and unvarnished preview of what we will once again watch unfold before us in this great drama we call Lent. While we are told of the disciples that the meaning of Jesus’ words “was hidden from them,” it is not hidden from us. And even though at the time the disciples “did not know what [Jesus] was talking about,” we do.

And because we do, Lent for us is a somber and reflective time. Actually, for many of us it’s a downright difficult time. Generally we think of Lent as a time to be endured rather than embraced. At best, it’s a time of mixed emotions. We know the tone and tenor will flip completely on Easter when we can come together and sing alleluia and be happy. We look forward to the trumpets and the lilies. But first we have to “get through” Lent.

Why do we find ourselves sometimes taking that approach? Because of what this season reminds us.

Do you remember the buzz that surrounded Ash Wednesday three years ago? It was the day on which Mel Gibson’s movie “The Passion of the Christ” premiered in theaters across the world. Many of you saw it. In fact some of you may have been part of the group that went from our church and watched it together, and then came back and talked about it.

It was hard to watch (and, I would guess, may never again be watched by those who saw it once) because it was so graphic in portraying what Jesus went through.

Yet, I don’t think we can say it was inaccurate. Just a moment ago, Jesus told us what His disciples (and we) could expect to see. He talked in terms of being mocked, insulted, spit upon, flogged and finally killed. There’s no way to soften those terms. They are what they are. Harsh, brutal and ugly.

What makes all it so striking, of course, is that we know it didn’t have to be this way. The Creator of the universe did not have to subject himself to the worst that his creation had to offer.

And as we contemplate in our own hearts and minds the passion of Jesus, there is a part of us that would like to go back and rewrite the script. A feature on some of the movies that have come out on DVD is to include a number of alternate endings. The idea is that if you don’t like one, you can choose another. Or at least get an idea of how things could turn out differently.

We might think it would be nice to have that feature available to us. Maybe if we could go back we wouldn’t necessarily change things, but we could soften them just a little bit. Maybe take the edge off some of the physical pain. Maybe choose a more humane way of death. Maybe look for an alternative that is a little less gory. You know, a kinder, gentler way of carrying out the mission.

The reason we may wish that is because we know we’re the cause for it all. This is the discomfort of Lent: it forces us to look not just at Jesus, but at ourselves. And what we are confronted with is that the ugliness of the cross simply mirrors the ugliness of our sin.

We live in a world that handles sin a number of different ways. Sometimes it is minimized. Sometimes it is sanitized. At times it is even glorified. Often it is redefined.

And sometimes we buy into what the world is selling. Even we as Christians don’t always like to label ourselves as “poor, miserable sinners.” Seems so negative. Seems bad for our self-esteem. So sometimes we get defensive about it. Sometimes we deny it and continue to not take it nearly as seriously as God obviously does…

Lent sets us straight. In the words of the hymnist,

If you think of sin but lightly, nor suppose the evil great

Here (the cross) you see its nature rightly, here its guilt may estimate

Mark the sacrifice appointed; see who bears the awful load

‘Tis the Word, the Lord’s Anointed, Son of Man and Son of God.

So Lent reveals us for what we are. Sinners deserving of a punishment meted out to someone else. We can’t get around it. We are the cause of Christ’s crucifixion. And that makes us – or at least, should make us – very sad.

But, of course, Lent also reveals God for what and who He is. And that makes us glad.

The Russian author Fyodor Dostoevsky asked this question: “Why did Providence hide its face ‘at the most critical moment’… as though voluntarily submitting to the blind, dumb, pitiless laws of nature?” In other words, why did God let all this happen to His Son? Why did God the powerful allow such a display of powerlessness?

The answer is simple. This was the plan.

It is interesting to note that when Jesus called His disciples to join Him on His final journey to Jerusalem He begins with a plural. He says “We are going up to Jerusalem.” But after that, the subject changes to a singular. He doesn’t say, “We are going up and we will suffer.”

No. “We” will go up, but it is Jesus alone who will suffer there in the way He describes. The “Son of Man” 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 only be spectators at the divine drama that is about to unfold. This is something that Jesus will do all by Himself.

On occasion you have heard the term “vicarious atonement” used. It is worth reviewing. At the root of the word “vicarious” is “vicar,” which means “substitute.” The word “atonement” can be broken down into the three syllables “at-one-ment.” The vicarious atonement is the good news that Christ as our substitute made us at one with God by taking away our sins on the cross.

Sin is so serious in the eyes of God that it cannot be overlooked or brushed away. It had to be atoned for. And the full payment was made on the cross.

From all outward observation, the bowed and blooded head of our Savior doesn’t look too glorious. But make no mistake about it, glory is there. It is hidden in the cross, but it is not hidden to us. It is the glory of our reconciliation with God. It is the glory of fulfilled life in the present and eternal life in the future.

And on this Ash Wednesday we remember once again how it all came to be. A Lamb goes uncomplaining forth. He resolutely calls us to go to Jerusalem with Him. And in this call there is not the least trace of anger or bitterness over what He knows is coming. There is not one word of complaint that falls from His lips. He does not accuse as we deserve. He does not shame us as we might expect.

There is none of that. Alone, he lovingly goes forward to carry out His mission in our behalf. His march to Jerusalem will be a march of doom for Him but a march of triumph for Him. In His seeming defeat we will find victory. And because of His death, we live – now, and eternally.

So let us follow anew this Lenten season. Let us be filled with sorrow over the sin that caused it all, but then let us be filled with joy over the solution God provides in Jesus.

Above all, let us continually contemplate the personal ramifications of the question posed in the final hymn we will sing today. What wondrous love is this? Amen.