This morning we continue
our sermon series Questions from the Floor. All of our sermons this summer are
based on questions that you submitted. Today’s question is "Why did Jesus have to die
for our sins? Why didn’t God just love us enough to forgive us without Jesus
having to die?"
At
the beginning I need to acknowledge my reliance on two sources. The first is a chapter
from a book by the late Shirley C. Guthrie, Jr., who taught theology at
Columbia Seminary in Georgia and whose book Christian Doctrine generations of Presbyterian
ministers have used to cram for their theology ordination exam.
The
second source is a book by my college classmate Tony Jones, which is entitled Did
God Kill Jesus? Searching for Love in History’s Most Famous Execution.
Imagine
the Scene.
A young boy goes to a revival meeting. He had grown up in a
Christian home and in the church, but he heard something that night he had
never heard before.
The
preacher held up a dirty glass. “See this glass? That’s you. Filthy, stained
with sin, inside and outside.” He picked up a hammer. “This hammer is the
righteousness of God. It is the instrument of God’s wrath against sinners.
God’s justice can be satisfied only by punishing and destroying people whose
lives are filled with vileness and corruption.”
The
preacher put the glass on the pulpit and slowly, deliberately drew back the
hammer, took deadly aim, and with all his might let the blow fall.
But
a miracle happened!
At
the last moment he covered the glass with a pan. The hammer struck with a crash
that echoed through the hushed church. He held up the untouched glass with one
hand and the mangled pan with the other.
Then
the preacher said, “Jesus Christ died for your sins. He took the punishment
that ought to have fallen on you. He satisfied the righteousness of God so that
you might go free if you believe in him.”
When
the boy went to bed that night, he could not sleep. Meditating on what he had
seen and heard, he decided that he was terribly afraid of God. But could he
love such a God? He could love Jesus who had sacrificed himself for him. But
how could he love a God who wanted to “get” everyone and was only kept from
doing it because Jesus got in the way? The thought crossed the boy’s mind that
he could only hate such a hammer-swinging God who had to be bought off at such
a terrible price. But he quickly dismissed the thought. That very God might
read his mind and punish him. (Illustration from Shirley C. Guthrie, Jr., Christian
Doctrine, Louisville:
Westminster/John Knox Press, 1994, 250-251).
The
question for us this morning is can we think about the atonement in such a way
that helps us to love both God and Jesus? Can we think about what happened on
Calvary long ago in a way that makes it clear that God is for us and not
against us?
Listen
again to the two scripture readings that were shared this morning. From Romans
5, “But God proves his love
for us in that while we still were sinners Christ died for us.” And from First
John 4, “God’s love was
revealed among us in this way: God sent his only Son into the world so that we
might live through him. In this is love, not that we loved God but that he
loved us and sent his Son to be the atoning sacrifice for our sins. Beloved,
since God loved us so much, we also ought to love one another.”
It’s
about Love. Love Wins. And God is the one who loves us, and God loves us every
bit as much as Jesus loves us. Whatever theory best helps you understand the
atonement, make sure that it enables you to sense and experience the love of
God.
According
to Shirley Guthrie there are at least four main perspectives that emerge from
the New Testament to interpret the meaning of the death of Jesus.
The
first is redemption. This is the financial image. Imagine a slave market.
People have lost their freedom and are being sold into slavery. But someone
steps forward and pays the ransom, the price for the purchase of all the
slaves. The price is high. His life for ours. But Jesus on the cross pays the
price of our redemption and sets us free.
The
second perspective draws upon the imagery of war. Jesus is the liberator. A terrible cosmic battle is being waged between God and Satan. Satan has
stolen humanity from the Kingdom of God and carried it to the kingdom of
darkness. At the cross, the devil takes the prisoner, Jesus, captive and wins
the battle of death for but a moment. But on Easter morning, Jesus the prisoner
becomes Jesus the liberator and wins the final victory delivering humanity from
death to life.
The
third explanation of the cross has to do with sacrifice. Jesus is the Lamb of
God who takes away the sins of the world. Humanity stands guilty before God,
deserving of punishment. There is no hope except that the sins be assuaged. But
a priest comes forward and serves as the mediator between heaven and earth. The
priest makes a sacrifice to atone for the people’s sin. Blood is shed. The lamb
is slain, reconciling humanity to God.
And
the last of the perspectives comes from the language of the courtroom. God is a
righteous judge, who sits behind the bench, with humanity standing in the dock
as the accused. The facts are placed in evidence. The defendants are found
guilty, and all receive the same sentence: death.
But a righteous and good
person comes forward and offers himself as a substitute for the guilty, taking
their punishment to himself even though he has done nothing wrong.
Whichever
perspective resonates with us the most, we should make sure that we interpret
each of these images in a way that makes it clear that God loves us just as
much as Jesus loves us and in a way that makes it clear that God is for us and
not against us.
For
example, the financial model does not mean that God is bought off by Jesus.
It means that we are
purchased for God. God purchases for us the gift of a new life, much like the
bishop in Les Miserables gives to
Jean Valjean as a gift the very silver that Jean Valjean had tried to steal
from the bishop. And the Bishop tells Jean Valjean to use the gift of the
silver to make for himself a new life. “I have bought your life for God,” the
bishop tells him.
Likewise,
with the sacrificial image, we should interpret that image in such a way that
God is for us and not against us. In the ancient world, many people believed
that when the gods were angry at humanity, the gods had to appeased with
sacrifice. But what if it’s not God that needs to be appeased, but it’s
humanity that needs to see and understand that violence only begets violence
and that violence is never redemptive?
René
Girard studied and taught world religions and ancient myths. He later converted
to Christianity largely because of the theology of the cross. My college
classmate Tony Jones summarizes Girard’s view in this way: When we look at
Jesus hanging on the cross, we are looking in a mirror. God is reflecting back
to us the outcome of our systems of rivalry, sacrifice, and violence. Jesus’
death shows conclusively that these systems are bankrupt, that they do not
assuage guilt, and that they do not minimize violence. Jesus, as the ultimate
innocent victim, is the final sacrifice because he reveals the fiction behind
the entire enterprise of sacrifice. (from Tony Jones, Did God Kill Jesus?Looking
for Love in History’s Most Famous Execution, New York: HarperOne, 2015. See especially chapter 16.)
Girard
draws upon the story of Joseph and his brothers in the Book of Genesis.
Joseph’s brothers try to kill him but decide to sell him into slavery instead.
Joseph eventually rises from a slave to being second in power only to the
Pharaoh. Many years later, when Joseph’s brothers come to Egypt because there
is famine in their land, Joseph does not seek revenge against his brothers. He
does toy with them for several chapters, but he doesn’t seek
revenge and he doesn’t try to have them killed. Tearfully, Joseph reveals
himself to his brothers and tells them who he is. And Joseph tells them, what
you intended for evil, God intended for good.
Girard’s
view of the crucifixion is similar. What humanity intended for evil in killing
Jesus, God intended for good. We see an example of this in President Obama’s
moving eulogy on Friday for the Rev. Clementa Pinckney. In that speech the
President reflected on the shooter’s announced motive of hoping to start a race
war. The President described that as …
"An act that [the shooter] imagined would incite fear and recrimination; violence and suspicion. An act that he presumed would deepen divisions that
trace back to our nation's original sin.
Oh,
but God works in mysterious ways. (Applause.) God has different ideas.
(Applause.)
He
didn't know he was being used by God. (Applause.) Blinded by hatred, the
alleged killer could not see the grace surrounding Reverend Pinckney and
that Bible study group -- the light of love that shone as they opened the
church doors and invited a stranger to join in their prayer circle. The alleged
killer could have never anticipated the way the families of the allen
would respond when they saw him in court -- in the midst of unspeakable
grief, with words of forgiveness. He couldn't imagine that. (Applause.)
The
alleged killer could not imagine how the city of Charleston, how the state
of South Carolina, how the United States of America would respond --
not merely with revulsion at his evil act, but with big-hearted generosity and,
more importantly, with a thoughtful introspection and self-examination
that we so rarely see in public life. (Transcript of President Obama’s
Eulogy of Rev. Pinckney from Vox.com, retrieved June 27, 2015).
Truly,
what the shooter intended for evil, God redirected for good.
Why
did Jesus have to die? Why couldn’t God have just forgiven us without Jesus
having to die? In the quote that is printed on the cover of your bulletin,
Shirley Guthrie responds by saying that God loves us and cares for us too much
to dismiss our sin and guilt with a flippant “It doesn’t matter.” God wanted to
stand with us in the loneliness and alienation we bring on ourselves when we
separate ourselves from God and other people. Because it is just when God comes
to our side in our loneliness, alienation, and guilt that they are overcome.
(Guthrie, 260).
In
his book my college classmate Tony Jones takes this a step further and says
that in the cross God identifies with us so completely that when Jesus cries
out on the cross, “My God, My God, why have you forsaken me?” that even God
suddenly realizes what it is like to feel abandoned by God. (Jones, chapter 19)
[Pause]
And
at the end of the day, contemplating the cross is more of a matter of the heart
than of the head. And I’m not talking about the emotional manipulation of a
preacher who points the finger and says that because of your sin Jesus died a
horrific death. No. Instead, I’m talking
about journeying to the cross in our hearts with honesty and authenticity. In
the words of the old spiritual, “Were you there when they crucified my Lord?
Sometimes it makes me want to tremble.” A theory of the atonement is not likely
to make us tremble. A journey to the cross will.
I’ve
had the good fortune to see the traditional site of the crucifixion in the
Church of the Holy Sepulchre in Jerusalem, but in truth my real journey to the
cross took place in a chapel service at Union Seminary in Richmond, Virginia.
It was a year after my father had died of pancreatic cancer. My mother was
facing her own significant health issues, and I was an only child in my
mid-twenties and feeling lonely and more than a little overwhelmed. In the
chapel service we sang
What
Wondrous Love is this, o my soul, o my soul,
What
wondrous love is this, o my soul
What
wondrous love is this that caused the Lord of Bliss
to
bear the heavy cross for my soul.
And
I had this sense that all the fear, loneliness, helplessness, hopelessness,
brokenness, and all the other heavy things were being borne by Jesus on the
cross. And the tears started flowing and they wouldn’t stop.
--All
of you who grieve.
--All
of you who mourn the loss of life or the end of a marriage.
--All
of you who mourn the loss of a dream.
--All
of you who are living with a terminal illness.
--All
of you who deeply regret something that you have done that you wish more than
anything that you could undo.
--All
of you who worry about an adult child making his or her way in the world.
Jesus
on the cross identifies with you in all of your struggles and even knows what
it’s like to cry in desperation, “My God, My God, why have you forsaken me?”
God
experienced humanity fully in the Cross of Christ. And the hope is this:
that just as God
experienced humanity fully in dying a real human death--even a brutal human
death--so we, too, can experience new life with God in the resurrection.
As
I stood there in the chapel service with tears streaming down my face, those
around me sang the third stanza, even as my heart was too full to sing myself.
Those around me sang
And
when from death I’m free, I’ll sing on, I’ll sing on,
and
when from death I’m free, I’ll sing on
And
when from death I’m free I’ll sing and joyful be.
And
through eternity I’ll sing on, I’ll sing on,
and
through eternity, I’ll sing on.
A wonderful explanation and reflection! Thanks, Jack
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