The Inevitable End (a sermon)

O Lord, you brought up my soul from Sheol, restored me to life from among those gone down to the Pit.

Sing praises to the Lord, O you his faithful ones, and give thanks to his holy name.

Psalm 30 (NRSV)

Do you want to live forever?

The question may seem obvious in a Christian congregation. For many people, the prospect of “eternal life” is the centrally motivating doctrine of the faith. The essence of the faith is often thought to be John 3:16, “for God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life.” Christian evangelists often ask, “what would happen if you died tonight” as a way to motivate acceptance of Jesus Christ as their Lord and Savior. Death is frightening. All of us would like to avoid it. And if there’s a club we can belong to that will give us a get-out-of-death-free card, sign us up!

The truth is, we’re all scared to death… of death. And if there’s anything that can free us from our eventual fate, most of us would take it, even if we haven’t thought through all the implications of what everlasting life would actually be like. At the very least, we want to be freed of the pain of losing the ones we love.

Over the past 100 years, as human society has exponentially gained scientific knowledge about life, the world, and our place in it, interest in less-spiritual methods of preserving life have become more common. Almost since his death in 1966, a rumor has persisted that Walt Disney had his body frozen—cryogenically persevered—in hopes that some day, human civilization will be able to put the breath of life back into dead bodies.

In Walt Disney’s case, the rumors are false. But the idea lives on that eventually, with the continuation of scientific advancement, we will someday have the power to bring back the dead. At the very least, the idea has emptied the change purses of some of the world’s richest people. An estimated 400 people have had their bodies preserved in the hopes that science—and their wealth—can save them.

Beyond simply preserving people’s bodies in freezers, proponents of Radical Life Extension argue that aging and death is like any disease. And like any disease, the scientific hope is to find and manufacture a cure. Imagine how many billions of dollars there are to be made by pharmaceutical companies if they were able to add 10, 20, 100 years to the human lifespan.

It may seem far fetched to think that science would be able to unlock the key of aging and give human beings a seemingly limitless natural lifespan. Proponents of radical life extension point to the dramatic increase in life expectancy during the scientific age. Just a hundred years ago, the world average life expectancy was only 32 years. Those who made it to age 15 could only expect to live to around age 50. Sure, there were people who made it into their 80s, but it was far from the norm. Today the world average life expectancy hovers around 73 years old. Who is to say, life extension advocates argue, that future scientific advances can’t continue the progression upward.

Of course, there are other things limiting the lifespan not only of individual human beings, but of our entire planet. Far in the distant future, in about 5 billion years, our sun will run out of hydrogen and die. That’s assuming our civilization makes it through the changes our own planet will endure during that time and adapt to changing temperatures.

That’s why many people with vaults full of money are placing their hope in escaping the constraints of our planet. Elon Musk founded SpaceX in 2001 in the hopes of eventually placing a human space outpost on Mars, with the hopes that humanity will someday inhabit far-off planets among the stars of the sky.

Human beings and their lifespans are finite. Earth, it’s resources, and lifespan, is finite. Naturally, people with seemingly limitless wealth and resources will do everything it takes to transcend those limits.

Given enough resources, we human beings will do anything to stay alive.

Let’s be honest, the prospect of “life extension” is for the rich and famous. It’s for the people who have such a sense of self-importance that they think the world couldn’t live without them. It’s for the people who, if they were given one more day to live, would spend it at work on the thing only they were capable of doing.

Even still, many of us will do everything we can to avoid aging and death in little ways. Television ads promise products that will make you look 10 years younger with over-the-counter treatments and plastic surgeons suggest that ageless beauty is possible. And when the angel of death does knock on our door, we’re likely to drain bank accounts for the potential of a couple more days or weeks.

In our estimation, human mortality is an enemy to be avoided at all costs. And so, even though it’s never explicitly stated in the text, most Christians assume that the Garden of Eden was so perfect that nothing in it would have ever died. But where would the nutrients for dirt come from without the compost of dead plants. Was the circle of life originally intended to be a straight line? Where would we be without the generations that have come before us? If our ancestors had lived forever, what need would there be for us?

Isn’t life’s fragility, it’s precarity, it’s limits of time part of what makes it precious?

“So you say that death is inevitable,” life extension advocates say, “but when would you like to die?”

As long as one has something to look forward to, as long as there is still future life in view, the answer would probably always be “never.” Wouldn’t it be cool to live to see your great-great-grandchildren be born?

When faced with the prospect of the “end,” of our lives or our planets, we are understandably filled with fear.

But the Christian story is not one of death-avoidance at all. It isn’t about having the personal key to get out of death. The Christian story is about death and resurrection.

The smart and the wealthy of our world would love to follow someone who would never enter the grave. The person who discovers the scientific key to immortality would have worshipers around the world and consumers lining up around the block. They’d be the biggest thing since, well, Jesus.

The Gospel isn’t a message for the wise and powerful. “The message of the cross is foolishness,” Paul says in 1 Corinthians. Who would want to follow a savior who was brutally murdered. The savior we follow isn’t one who has the key to death-avoidance. In fact, the Gospels tell us that Jesus cried out in the garden of prayer for God to “take this cup [of death] from me.” With anguish, he cried out, “my God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”

Jesus could have ascended to heaven prior to his death instead of dying. God could have spared him that suffering. Jesus could have gone straight to heaven without death like Enoch and Elijah who were spared the fate of all humanity. But what would this have done for we who will die?

Jesus died for a reason. Yes, Jesus died as the sacrifice to end all sacrifices for our sins. Jesus died because we humans preferred darkness to the light. But more than that, Jesus died because all of us will die too. And only a God who knows the depth of our experience can truly redeem and save all of it.

Yes, God send his Son that we would not perish in Sin, that death would not be the end for us. But God never promises to free us from the natural condition of death. It is so important for us to understand this in the shadow of the cross and in the light of the resurrection.

God’s promise is not to provide an escape plan from death, but to be with us through it all.

Psalm 23 assures us that in the valley of the shadow of death, God is with us.

Psalm 90 petitions God to “teach us to number our days, that we may grow in wisdom.”

Ecclesiastes teaches us that “there is a time and a season for everything under the sun, a time for birth and a time for death.”

A couple years ago, a developer came out with a phone app called “WeCroak.” About three times a day, “WeCroak” will remind users that they will die with quotes from notable depressives throughout history. This morning, “WeCroak” gave me a dose of bittersweet encouragement with a quote from Emily Dickinson, “Dying is a wild night and a new road.”

Since being welcomed into the life of a 4-year-old though, I don’t need an app to remind me of my mortality. While people over 40 think of me as a young guy, Gracelyn sees it fit to confidently (and with a smile on her face) proclaim to her mother and I that “you’re going to die.”

She did this just yesterday, for the first time, with no idea that this would be the topic of my sermon today.

Yes, Gracelyn. I am going to die. So will all of us.

Thank God, the time has not yet come when my heart will stop and not even a deep freeze at -130 degrees Fahrenheit can save this body. But in a different, no less real sense, I have died already.

See, when I was two months old, a pastor and family friend baptized me in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. He proclaimed with Paul in Romans 6 that “if we died with Christ, we believe that we will also live with him. Since Christ was raised from the dead, he cannot die again; death no longer has mastery over him.” So it is with each of us.

Since we have been united with him in a death like his, we are also united with him in the life of the resurrection.

Like Lazarus, who John 11 tells us was dead long enough that he began to stink, some of us know what it is to face death in a very real way and then to be raised up again.

If you’ve been stuck in the mire of addiction, you know what it is to be dead in a situation you cannot control or gain any handle over. While it does take immense power of will, those who have been there will tell you that recovery starts with an utter admission of powerlessness.

“We are powerless over our addictions, we need a power greater than us to restore us to life.”

If you’ve been surrounded by the endless night of depression, the dread of anxiety, and the confusion of being untethered from reality, you know this too. There is nothing inside of us that can free us from the prison of being trapped in mental illness. We need someone to unbind us and to untangle our thoughts. We often need medication to get to a point where recovery is possible.

Something is broken in us that must be addressed from the outside. No matter how many “self-help” books are published, we need something from outside of us to resurrect us from death.

This is what the proponents of radical life extension do not understand. Human beings are incapable of saving themselves. Death is an inevitable force from which we cannot escape, even if we gain a few more years of life. After all, what good is living longer if we still live under the fear of death and the judgment of sin?

Our bodies are frail and built for frailty. What hope is there?

Revelation 5:9 tells us what we should know if we’ve been hanging out in church for any length of time. Christ alone has the key to abundant life. Christ alone has the power of resurrection. Christ alone has entered the place of the dead itself and freed those it kept captive.

This resurrection, unlike the striving and dedication of those who work day and night to prolong life by one iota, is pure gift.

The only hope we have is to die to ourselves before we ourselves die; to be raised to life before we are mere dust in the wind.

Walker Percy, in his mock self-help book “Lost in the Cosmos,” argues pointedly that taking death seriously is the key to a life of abundance. He describes what it is like to have believed oneself to have already died and then have life granted as a gift. One who is formerly dead, he says, “opens his front door, sits down on the steps, and laughs. Since he has the option of being dead, he has nothing to lose by being alive. It is good to be alive. He goes to work because he doesn’t have to.”

What a freedom, what a gift—to live as one who has already died and been brought back from death. Why would we hold onto fear, resentment, pride, and guilt when we have been ushered through the brink of life and death by Jesus Christ our Lord.

A saying that has been falsely attributed to Martin Luther states, “if I knew the world was ending tomorrow, I would plant a tree.” Similarly, a Jewish proverb teaches that “if you have a sapling in your hand and they tell you that the Messiah has arrived, first plant the sapling and then go out to greet him.”

No matter where the thought comes from, I think the notion of planting a tree right before one’s end, or the end of the world, speaks to what life in the resurrection of Jesus is like.

The inevitable matter of death holds no power anymore. The power of Jesus Christ and His resurrection is what matters here.

We are given the chance, not to avoid death at all costs, but to instead live in the resurrected life now. To live in the reality that sin and death’s power has been taken away. The sinner has been given a second chance and the dead have carried on their praises. The dry bones have once again been filled with the breath of life. The debtor now lives in the freedom of having their entire burden erased.

What would that kind of life look like? How would you live, knowing you had already died?

John tells us that after the resurrection, Jesus met his disciples and went fishing—catching a bountiful harvest of 153 fish cooked fresh over a charcoal fire. Sounds like heaven to me.

May you today taste and see a glimpse of the resurrection. May the life of Jesus fill your body. May the gift of new life lighten your step and ease your load.

Rejoice! Jesus is the resurrection and the life.

Thanks be to God, Amen.

Set Free from the Contagion (A Sermon)

This sermon was preached to the virtually gathered congregation of Paris Presbyterian Church on March 22nd, 2020, amidst the quarantine due to the COVID-19 virus.

Jesus Heals a Crippled Woman

10 Now he was teaching in one of the synagogues on the sabbath. 11 And just then there appeared a woman with a spirit that had crippled her for eighteen years. She was bent over and was quite unable to stand up straight. 12 When Jesus saw her, he called her over and said, “Woman, you are set free from your ailment.” 13 When he laid his hands on her, immediately she stood up straight and began praising God. 14 But the leader of the synagogue, indignant because Jesus had cured on the sabbath, kept saying to the crowd, “There are six days on which work ought to be done; come on those days and be cured, and not on the sabbath day.” 15 But the Lord answered him and said, “You hypocrites! Does not each of you on the sabbath untie his ox or his donkey from the manger, and lead it away to give it water? 16 And ought not this woman, a daughter of Abraham whom Satan bound for eighteen long years, be set free from this bondage on the sabbath day?” 17 When he said this, all his opponents were put to shame; and the entire crowd was rejoicing at all the wonderful things that he was doing.

Luke 13:10–17 (NRSV)

When we hear this story, our minds make an immediate translation from the world of the 1st Century to the 21st. When we hear that this woman was oppressed by “a crippling spirit,” and we hear the description of her illness, our modern scientific brains kick into gear, wondering what this woman’s affliction could be.

It turns out, through the power of Wikipedia, that this woman had Ankylosing spondylitis. (I am extremely grateful that Wikipedia will also pronounce things for you!) It’s an arthritic condition in the spine—inflammation causes a progressive fusing of the vertebrae that causes one to hunch over.

Without that translation, this story is almost unintelligible to us. How could a “spirit” cripple this woman? In what sense can “Satan” be accused of holding her in bondage? Can you imagine going to the orthopedic doctor today and being told, “ah, I see the problem. You have a spirit that is attacking you, pushing you down, causing you to hunch over. I can’t help you, but maybe your therapist or Pastor can help set you free from that spirit.”

We would quickly seek out a second opinion. We might even report that doctor to his credentialing board!

If we take the spiritual nature of this woman’s affliction seriously, and I think we should, we’re in danger of falling into another trap. Since this story implies that this woman has a spiritual rather than a mere physical condition, we might incorrectly assume that this woman has done something wrong, something to deserve her affliction!

Some have accused this poor crippled woman of being stuck in personal sin and “lax in [her] efforts toward piety” (Cyril of Alexandria). If that were true, she wouldn’t have needed anything more than to pray, be made right with God, and be healed. If that were true, it was a personal problem, not something to deal with publicly. If her spiritual condition was caused by an error in her individual behavior, Jesus would have identified the ailment’s source as a personal transgression.

In order to avoid the complex snares of the spiritual, we think we’re better off with our modern, physical translation of the story that foregoes all the spiritual baggage. This woman simply has a medical condition, she needs a doctor, and in lieu of modern medicine, Jesus and his miraculous healing ability is her best option.

We don’t tend to believe in the “spiritual world.” Honestly, it’s because it’s hard for us to see any evidence of it. Our eyes and minds aren’t programmed to see it. We look for scientific causes and effects for everything we observe. In premodern societies, belief in God was assumed, and with that assumption came a general understanding that there was a supernatural cause behind everything. Today, our default response is to assume a physical cause for every incident.

In this congregation, we try to intentionally reprogram ourselves to remember that God is living and active in our world by sharing “God sightings.” Every week in worship, we have a brief, open time of sharing in which we are asked to share what God has been doing in our lives and where we have seen God’s hand at work.

It’s a hard thing to do, because our minds are trained to be skeptical. And so, more often than not, when someone takes a risk to share a place where they have seen God at work, someone in the congregation lets out an audible groan. It’s not the same person. Many more groan silently, it’s just that one or two slip and let it out.

“This is not what the Sabbath is for,” our inner skeptics scream in our minds. “We are here, as good Presbyterians to rest from our labors by singing, praying for our list of concerns, hearing a talk about a passage of scripture, and leaving the building no more than one hour after the start of the service!” That is why we are here. It’s simple, physical, observable, understandable.

Isn’t it ironic that right now we’re forced to change that rhythm due to the Coronavirus? Our lack of spiritual sight causes us to assume that because our physical church doors are closed, because we cannot meet in groups of 10 or more people, the “church” is therefore closed. We’re forced, instead, to remember that there is something more than our physical presence that connects us.

The problem with our obsession with the merely physical is that it leaves us without any understanding of the nature of the human condition and the condition of creation. And if we don’t know the cause of our situation, how can we possibly be delivered from it?

If the physical is all that we have, then there isn’t any true salvation for any of us. We’ll just be stuck relying on beneficial, but incomplete, physical remedies. Nothing can save us from the reality of our eventual, physical death. And if the personal is all that we have, then an individual’s condition must be a result of their own personal choices and impiety.

What could be done for this bent-over woman today in modern medicine? We like to imagine, as 21st century moderns, that we have all the answers. We see the problems and we have a solution. But this woman’s condition is just as chronic and incurable in the 21st century as it was in the 1st. To this day, we can only treat symptoms of the disease. Modern medicine has a different name for this woman’s condition, but no silver bullet, no cure.

This woman represents all of us with chronic conditions that have no complete cure. Even when their condition is well-managed, the disease hides in the background, ready to appear again. From psychological conditions such as depression to degenerative diseases like Parkinson’s disease, to the constant fight against cancer­­—our brothers and sisters, mothers and fathers, friends, enemies, and ourselves cry out for a cure. But many live with conditions for which there is no cure, like this woman with Ankylosing spondylitis.

So, what do we do when an individual has an infirmity that cannot be “cured” in the full, embodied sense of the word?

Or, in this time especially as the world is infected with the Coronavirus, we might ask what we should do when the world is infected by a contagion, a virus, for which there is no readily available physical inoculation.

Now we’re on to something.

Turns out, we’re as helpless today in the 21st century as the desperate and downtrodden were in first century Palestine. We are as in need of a savior to heal and save us from our infirmities.

I wish I could simply say that Jesus can offer healing of a kind light-years ahead of what medicine can currently provide, that the power of Jesus that healed this unnamed woman 2,000 years ago can cure you of arthritis, cancer, depression, or whatever else affects you today. That somehow, a sprinkling of holy water or some oil will inoculate you from the Coronavirus. 

I wish we could say one simple prayer tonight and send the Coronavirus into the pit of hell. Some people might be willing to still make those pronouncements and put on a grand spectacle and sell you some snake oil, but medical cures are way above my paygrade.

Even if there is no easy cure for our chronic condition, the message of the Gospel is that there is healing for us and a Savior who can save us. As long as we focus on our individual infirmities, we’re doomed to suffer and fail under the weight of the human condition. But our Scripture tells us clearly and decisively that there is something behind this painful chaos that kept this woman hunched over on the Sabbath day.

The Bible paints a word picture of this multifaceted reality: Sin, Death, Satan, the Powers and Principalities, the Spiritual Forces in the Heavenly Realms (Ephesians 6:12)

In the beginning of it all, the book of Genesis tells us that God’s desire for the world was a lush garden of beauty and wholeness. But because of one transgression, out of a desire for personal autonomy, that picture was shattered. Sin, a contagion, a virus with an untreated 100% fatality rate, had infected the world. And thus, as we know, husband and wife turn on one another, brother rises up against brother, human relationships are broken by transgressions, yes. But the problem is really much deeper.

Scripture tells us that individual transgressions, those sins we commit, are not the only problem. No, the whole system of being is infected. Our behaviors are caught up in a wider web of pain and suffering that we can’t control. Try making one purchase, one personal decision that doesn’t have a negative effect on another human being. You can’t do it! It’s like trying to go about your day without spreading the Coronavirus. The reality is, just like with Coronavirus, you’re spreading the infection of Sin and Death wherever you go, even if you’re not currently symptomatic.

The power of Sin has cut us off from the Tree of Life, it’s affected our DNA, it dwells within us like a virus, cutting our time short, subjecting us to suffering and pain.

With this woman, with our fragile Earth, with the entire cosmos, we groan out for redemption! We’re bent over. We’re resigned to our fate. Except that we have the hope of Paul in Romans 8 “that the creation itself will be liberated from its bondage to decay and brought into the freedom and glory of the children of God.”

It’s not that this woman has suffered because of her sin. Yes, we face the consequences of our actions on a daily basis, but God does not consign us to suffering because of them. We suffer because all creation suffers. We suffer because all of us, as Ephesians 6:12 says, struggle not against flesh and blood, but against the “spiritual forces of evil” that attack our bodies and beat us down as children of God.

As St. Augustine put it, “the whole human race, like this woman, was bent over and bowed down to the ground.” Together, we cry out against this enemy to God.

As St. Paul asks in Romans 7:24, “Wretched man that I am! Who will rescue me from this body of death?”

On that Sabbath day 2,000 years ago, the Lord Jesus released that woman who had been crying out for 18 long years from her bondage. Yes, Jesus did have the supernatural power to cure her. But more importantly, Jesus saw her and healed her. He restored her. He gave her the freedom of the children of God from her captor.

As Romans 8:2 declares, “The law of the Spirit of life in Christ Jesus has set you free from the law of sin and of death.”

The woman who was in bondage in knows the reality of the human condition and the condition of the cosmos far better than the synagogue leader does. The synagogue leaders sees this incident as a simple act of physical healing. It’s “work.” It’s what those of you who are medical professionals do at your day jobs. But Jesus sees it as something far more.

The synagogue leader doesn’t know his own brokenness, his own wounds, the way this cosmic story of Sin and death has kept him in bondage. He doesn’t know the he too is bent over to the ground. Otherwise, he’d be begging for freedom too!

The synagogue leader has become so defensive and antagonistic with Jesus because he is unwilling and unable to find healing from the spiritual wounds in his heart.

Like those who go about their days as normal right now, denying the danger of the spread of the Coronavirus, the synagogue leader adopts a deadly “everything is fine, we don’t need saving” mentality.

This moderator of the Sabbath assembly doesn’t know that he, like all of us, is deeply wounded, broken, and infected. And if he knows it, then he’s trying his best to hide it.

None of us can escape the contagion of Sin. We’re all infected. And like the bent over woman, we can all be liberated from the powers that hold us in bondage.

Now is the time for release from bondage! Now, on this Sabbath day, is the time of our healing.

The thing that keeps us from deliverance and healing from the twin powers of Sin and Death especially in the Church is that we refuse to acknowledge and take up our afflictions. And if we don’t acknowledge our common sickness, we’re certainly not going to create the space for healing.

In our minds, Church is a recue raft for those who aren’t infected by the contagion, the virus of Sin and Death. And so, sometimes we get caught up in putting on a religious show during a season like Lent! Our life isn’t hard enough, so we find ways to voluntarily suffer to show how good and religious we are. Or to earn our place as one of the good-religious-sabbath-keepers.

But as it turns out, all of our false piety has been stripped from us this Lent. There are no more Fish Fry’s left to convince us that we’re doing our religious duty by eating fried food. There are no more gatherings of people in which to adopt a sullen expression and show people how terrible our fast is making us feel!

Right now, there’s no way to deny that we are ALL infected by the contagion of Sin and Death. Look at the empty supermarket shelves, decimated by those who are hoarding supplies for themselves. Look at the fragility of our lives—we carry viruses within our bodies, without knowing, that can bring death upon those who are most vulnerable.

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In this season of Lent, our local ministerium decided that “Take Up Your Cross” would be the theme of our gatherings together. Those mid-week services may be suspended by the virus, but what an opportunity we have together now to take up the crosses that are before us, to pick up our pain and suffering, to pick up the sign of Sin and Death, and to ask Jesus to take that weight from us.

Jesus says, “Take up your cross and follow me.” (Luke 9:23). “Take up my burden. It is the burden of the whole world and it will be a light burden. Take up my yoke and it will prove to be an easy yoke.” (Matthew 11:30; “Following Jesus,” 79).

Reflecting on that passage, the great Christian Spiritual writer Henri Nouwen writes, “This is the mystery of the Christian life. It is not that God came to take our burden away or to take our cross away or to take our agony away.” (As I’ve been saying in this sermon, Jesus did not come to cure us of our fragile humanity.) “No. God came to invite us to connect our burden with God’s burden, to connect our suffering with God’s suffering, to connect our pain to God’s pain.” (“Following Jesus,” 80)

When we hear that we are to “take up our cross and follow Jesus,” we often believe that we need to make a cross to follow Jesus. That we somehow need to take on some external suffering on ourselves and be hard on ourselves. Nouwen reminds us, “we have a lot of problems [already]. We don’t need more.”

Church, we do not need to make a cross. We don’t need to cause ourselves pain. Our cross is already in front of us.

There is no one watching this sermon who does not, in some way, carry the suffering of Sin and Death in their bodies. The only thing that separates us is that some of us have chosen to pick up that suffering and acknowledge it, while others have tried to hide the virus that lives within them.

The bent-over woman who went to the synagogue on the Sabbath day took up her cross! She could hardly hide it! She could not have not taken up her cross. It was visible on her body for all to see.

But the synagogue leader didn’t have a visible cross, and so he felt no need to take up his suffering, his infection of Sin and Death. The synagogue leader cut himself and others off from the healing and true joy that was so desperately needed on the Sabbath day.

We don’t take up our cross to show off how much we can suffer. We take up our cross so that we will be healed and set free!

That’s exactly what the bent-over woman did. She participated in the Sabbath, the gift given to the people of Israel as they were set free from the bondage of Sin and Death in Egypt. The Sabbath reminded her and reminds us that “we were once enslaved in Egypt.” We were once infected by Sin and Death.

The thing that kept the Hebrews enslaved in Egypt is the same thing that bent over this woman. It’s Cancer. It’s Chronic Illness. It’s the Coronavirus. It’s Sin and Death. It’s what we call the “human condition.”

And we all need healing.

Today we need to ask ourselves, “what is our unique suffering? What cross do we bear?” And then, like the bent-over woman, we need to take up that cross, and follow––bring that suffering to Jesus.

Henri Nouwen writes that, “this is what Jesus means when he asks you to take up your cross. He encourages you to recognize and embrace your unique suffering and to trust that your way to salvation lies therein. Taking up your cross means, first of all, befriending your wounds.”

Taking up our cross means taking up our unique part of the human condition. It means taking up our unique bondage to Sin and Death and bringing it to Jesus, not for a quick cure-all, not for Jesus to take that cross from us, but for the healing that comes through dying to ourselves and being raised up with Christ.

As the Lord told the Apostle Paul, “My grace is sufficient for you, for power is made perfect in weakness.” And as Paul said in response, “I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may dwell in me.”

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I want to end with a story about a boy who needed to take up the cross of his pain and suffering to follow Jesus. C.S. Lewis, in the Narnia story “The Voyage of the Dawn Treader” writes, “There was a boy called Eustace Clarence Scrubb, and he almost deserved it.”

Eustace was an insufferable boy, a child who bullied other children and adults alike. He was “better” than everyone else, and he knew it. He had the right opinions. He knew all about what was physically possible, and he knew that his cousins who spoke of the Land of Narnia were full of it. There was no such place and there could not be.

The boy Eustace’s cross to bear, the wound from which he was operating, was his jealousy of his cousins Edmund and Lucy and their sibling bond. It was a cross that he needed to take up, a wound that he needed Christ to heal.

Everything changes when Eustace is pulled, kicking and screaming, into Narnia––that “impossible” world that “could not” exist.

As the story continues, Eustace eventually wakes up to find he is not a boy at all. Instead, he looks down and sees the claws and scales of a dragon. The boy Eustace, in this realm of Narnia, now shows his Sin, his infection, on the outside.

Unable to hide from his pain anymore, Eustace cries out for help and Aslan, the Christ figure in Lewis’ allegory, comes to him saying, “follow me.”

In front of Aslan, Eustice tries desperately to free himself from his dragon form, this Sin, by scratching and clawing himself. He tries to shed the outside layers of his condition by inflicting pain to free himself. (How often do we do the same?)

But under the outside layer of the scales of Sin is another, and another, and another. The boy Eustace seems to be a dragon all the way down. But Aslan the lion tells him, “you will have to let me” take off those scales.

Aslan, the lion who is not-safe but good, tears into Eustace’s dragon flesh—layer upon layer of the Sin and Death that has been suffocating the boy Eustice is removed in one fell swoop. Aslan picks up the raw, healed freed-boy Eustace and drops him into the pool.

After this, those who see and interact with Eustace can’t believe their eyes. They can’t believe it’s him. Eustace was never so kind and understanding. But this freed-boy Eustace, unchained from the shackles of Sin, rescued from the mouth of the dragon of Death, healed from the virus that has infected humanity, is now more himself than he has ever been.

–––––

If we take up our suffering and share it with Christ, what pain must we endure to be healed? The pain of acknowledging our sins to a friend, relative, or our accountability group. The pain of stripping off our false self for the truth that lies beneath. The pain of removing ourselves from toxic relationships and negative influences. The pain of faith and trust, knowing that things really are uncertain and there’s no security in this life. The pain of acknowledging a chronic condition for which there is no cure. The pain of acknowledging that none of us will get out of this infected world alive.

Son of Adam, Daughter of Eve – are you suffocating inside the oppression of the dragon of Sin and Death? Come to the healer, let him cut into the lies and false self that you might be set free. 

Child of God – are you bent over from the weight of the burden you carry? Stand up. Take up your cross. Be set free to follow Jesus, that we all might rejoice in what God is doing. 

There may not be a cure for the task of cross-bearing, but thanks be to God who gives us the victory of healing through Jesus Christ, sent by the Father, and with us always through the gift of the Spirit. Amen.


As I was writing this sermon, Mockingbird posted an article in the same vein that highlights a quotation from C.S. Lewis, addressing life in the “Atomic Age” and drawing the connection to the Coronavirus.”

The problem is, we are already infected. To paraphrase C. S. Lewis, “Believe me, dear sir or madam, you and all whom you love were already sentenced to death before [the coronavirus began to spread].” As we scramble to save ourselves from this earthly ailment, the creeping virus of sin continues to infect our hearts with greed and fear and a whole host of other strains of itself. Against this disease, quarantine won’t help — it grows even when we’re isolated, just as it can grow when we gather together, multiplying as it passes from person to person.

Kate Campbell, Mockingbird – https://mbird.com/2020/03/wash-your-hands-you-sinners/