Despising the Shame

Fixing our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of faith, who for the joy set before Him endured the cross, despising the shame, has sat down at the right hand of the throne of God (Hebrews 12:2).

The gospel has once again come alive through the Scriptures, particularly in that middle phrase, "despising the shame." "Despising"—kataphroneo—to conclude against, literally to think little of or dismiss as insignificant after evaluation. "The shame"—aischuges—humiliation, embarrassment.

It is not that Jesus ignored the shame; not at all. He fully bore the shame, evaluated it, and set it aside as powerless over Him.

Why is this important? The cross was invented and perfected as a torturous humiliation. We have cleaned up the cross because of the supreme goodness of the Christ who embraced the awful cross and broke its power. Just a few minutes ago I saw someone selling beautifully decorated crosses for Good Friday—aside from the fact that this gets too close to using religion to make a buck—a cross would never have been thought of as beautiful in the ancient world. The cross was designed to embarrass cruelly and sadistically all who hung upon it—naked, brutal, public, strung out, cursed. But Jesus despised the shame that His enemies attempted to hurl upon Him by using this excruciating humiliation.

Consider the theology of that single aspect of the Lord’s redeeming work on the cross. The lectionary readings for this past Wednesday of Holy Week help demonstrate most helpfully in this part how Jesus took our sin but did not become sinful Himself in the process. He bore our sin but did not Himself become a sinner. It is a very important point; one that I cannot remember ever meditating upon before this week because of Hebrews 12:2.

Isaiah 50:5-7—"I was not disobedient, nor did I turn my back. I gave my back to those who strike Me, and my cheeks to those who pluck out the beard; I did not cover My face from humiliation and spitting. For the Lord GOD helps me, therefore I am not disgraced; therefore I have set My face like flint, and I know that I will not be ashamed."

Psalm 70:2-3—Let those he ashamed and humiliated who seek my life; let those be turned back and dishonored who delight in my hurt. Let those be turned back because of the their shame, who say, 'Aha! Aha!'"

Jesus bore our sin to such a degree that He became sin on our behalf, but He despised the shame (the intended effect) of the cross. He became our sin, but He did not become a sinner. Huge! He was shamed by others, but He Himself was not ashamed of what He was doing (Isaiah 50:7). In fact, He ricocheted back upon His torturers the shame that they attempted to fling upon Him (Psalm 70:2-3).

The cross was ugly; but its ugliness, even though it rained completely and without dilution upon the Son of Man, did not make the Son of Man ugly in His identity. He evaluated the intended effect that they wanted to use to shame Him, but He set it aside as insignificant. He bore our sin but did not become a sinner. He was shamed from the outside; He was not ashamed, though, on the inside. He drew the line on the power of sin and broke it at the cross.

Psychologists observe a similar distinction, but the base idea is primarily a scriptural one—guilt deals with what I did; shame deals with who I am. Guilt is the fault of doing; shame is fault of being. Guilt says, “I did wrong”; shame says, “I am wrong.” Guilt hides from others; shame covers self.

We can see this dynamic in the narrative of the original sin in the original Garden in Genesis 3. Adam and Eve ate the forbidden fruit, they hid among the trees, and they covered themselves with the fig leaves—two aspects of rebellion. They sinned and immediately sensed their guilt before God, so they hid among the very trees they were entrusted to cultivate, which God had created. And they also died spiritual immediately and sensed their shame internally, so they sewed fig leaves together (a far more complicated task!) to cover their nakedness, which before was not a humiliation (naked and unashamed, Genesis 2:25) at all but an intimacy they had with each other, with God, and with the universe.

The power of sin and death is shame and guilt; I am a sinner and I commit sin. Ok, here is the beauty of the Lord’s redemption. He took upon Himself our sin—both the guilt from our activity of sin and the shame from our identity of sin—to the cross. All of it on His individual back at one point in history.

I can almost hear in my imagination the demonic accusation hurled at Jesus as He hung there on the cross—“You are contaminated, you are infected, you are diseased, you are stained. No one can take all of man’s sin without becoming defiled.” But no! Jesus bore our sin, but did not become a sinner. He endured the cross despising the shame. Sin can go this far--to the cross--and no farther. Jesus swallowed our sin, but sin did not swallow Jesus in His core identity. "He made Him who knew no sin to be sin on our behalf, so that we might become the righteousness of God in Him" (2 Corinthians 5:21).

Ok, now the application. Back to Hebrews 12. How can we endure agony? By fixing our eyes upon Jesus’ perfect, purposeful, and pure perseverance--our faithful looking to Christ alone actually empowers us to persevere in our struggle. See how Jesus’ perseverance through the cross "set before Him" unlocks the corresponding phrase in verse 1, “let us also lay aside every encumbrance and the sin that so easily entangles us and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us."

How do we lay these aside? In the same way Jesus "despised the shame." He knew the truth of who He was and the limits of sin and the power of the cross. He said to the shame, "I have evaluated you and set you aside. You rose up to the cross and no farther. I dismiss you as defeated." Therefore, we can and must in Christ say to our sin identity and our sinful actions, our shame and our guilt, even though darkness flings upon us accusation and hellish discouragement, "No!" "I set you aside—guilt and shame—in the power of Christ. You have no hold on me anymore. Shame and guilt used to identify me, but Jesus broke your power at the cross. I evaluate your boundaries in light of Christ's cross and dismiss you as little. I have sinned, and even continue to sin, but the death, burial, and resurrection of Jesus Christ has transformed me from a child of wrath into child of God."

I do not have to hide anymore from God or others. I do not have to cover myself. I can drop off these encumbrances and sins and run with endurance the race set before me. Hallelujah, what a Savior!

The Restrained Pulpit

Preacher-illustrations, granted, appeal to a very narrow sliver of the population. Very narrow. We preachers often forget that our constituents are not immediately fluent in preacher-humor, preacher-anecdotes, and preacher-heroes. That being said, there is a pulpit-driven observation that may actually "land" with the rest of the population for a change; one that has been slow cooking for quite a while. The restrained pulpit, yet not repressed, is a mark of maturity.

Let me back up to explain. Based on cultural observation alone, it seems that ranting should be in the Bill of Rights somewhere. It's not. Freedom of speech is, but the freedom to express every opinion that bubbles to the surface at any given moment of time is not. So it figures that if the forefathers didn't write "ranting" into our code of inalienable rights, maybe God should have. He didn't. Yet just spending an hour or so in media-land it seems that should not only be a "right" to rant, but that it may even be unhealthy NOT to rant when the urge hits.

Get ticked off--tell every one on your friend list. Feel strongly--find a bumper sticker that captures the angst in sarcasm for everyone to read on I-40 who happens to be nearby. Disagree with a public official--don't send a letter to his office, but call in to any one of the the talk radio shows and let it rip behind the shield of quasi-anonymity.

The pulpit, however, is not a license to rant. It is not a soapbox or megaphone for the human preacher. It is Christ's. And for His unexplained reasons preaching remains His arguably old-fashioned, but clearly intentional, method of conveying the mind of God to the people. It may be concluded by the world as foolishness (1 Corinthians 1:18), but human opinions must (and one day will) acquiesce to God's revelation--"for we do not preach ourselves, but Christ Jesus as Lord" (2 Corinthians 4:5).

When I take the pulpit, under Christ, I must restrain my opinions so that the revelation of Christ may be proclaimed undiluted. Are there times when I would like to sling mud? You bet! Are there times when I would like to rally the people around my personal preferences? There have been those temptations, yes. But the simplicity of the gospel is the power. The restrained pulpit--restrained from human-based opinion-making (i.e. the Sunday morning version of ranting)--is wisdom. Paul, perhaps, said it best:

"And when I came to you, brethren, I did not come with superiority of speech or of wisdom, proclaiming to you the testimony of God. For I determined to know nothing among you except Jesus Christ, and Him crucified. I was with you in weakness and in fear and in much trembling, and my message and my preaching were not in persuasive words of wisdom, but in demonstration of the Spirit and of power, so that your faith would not rest on the wisdom of men, but on the power of God (1 Corinthians 2:1-5).

So, please forgive me if I rant! (No really ... please forgive me if this comes across as a rant of any sort!)

Runner

Two minutes. One-hundred and twenty seconds. I decided to show mercy for our dog who is now on a chain all the time because she will not stay in the yard. She was loose for just two minutes and then she sprinted--faster than I've ever seen her sprint--to the wide open spaces. I hollered at the top of my voice. She didn't even look back. Was I a fool to show mercy (again)?

Did I mention it was somewhere close to 18-degrees that morning? So what! Did I mention that there was a 4-foot tall fence that surrounds the backyard? No problem! Did I mention that I had installed a "Stubborn Dog Invisible Fence" with the corresponding "Stubborn Dog Collars" which produce noise, vibrations and shocks at 10, 5 and then 2 feet around the perimeter of the boundary? Not even a hesitation! Did I mention the constant provision of food, water, shelter, company, pillows to sleep on, children to play with, another dog to pal around with, toys to chew, moles to dig up, squirrels to chase, flowers to sit upon, and a 30-something human who dutifully goes around with a shovel and ... well, let's just leave that to the imagination--what more could a 3-year old golden retriever want in life? Honestly. I am seriously asking this question. What more could she want? Apparently more than our family has to offer.

Is there a cure for a runner? Is there some incentive I can add to her life that will erase her need to escape? If dogs can be fools; Misty is a fool. But I cannot communicate to her doggie-heart the insanity of her running. There are cars out there on those roads and you, Misty, don't have a lick of street smarts. There are neighbors out there with rifles and you, Misty, look like a deer at full speed. There are people with the number for Animal Control already programmed into their mobile phones. There are not bowls of beef-flavored kibbles that magically appear every morning next to a bucket of fresh water. Why run? Why leave behind all that this family is freely offering you, Misty, for danger, starvation, and possible euthanasia out there in the "great beyond"?

But then I remember what a wise man once said on a previous episode of canine-escapism. Kevin, God must have given that dog to you for a reason. You must have a lesson to learn from that dog who runs.

Alas, it is true. Misty is a mirror. I am a runner, too. But God did find a way to communicate to my running-heart. He sent Jesus to "put on skin" so to speak, to live in the neighborhood, to speak our very dialect, in order to explain to us the Father (John 1:18). While I hollered at the top of my voice for Misty to come back to no avail, Jesus spoke in such a way that set the captives free, brought the dead to life, and still--in the most intense hours--opened not his mouth as a sheep led to the slaughter. While I have to tie up Misty now, Jesus holds us in without chains--He holds us in by grace. Grace that changes the heart. Jesus, cure my runner-heart with your transforming grace. "Prone to wander, Lord I feel it. Prone to leave the God I love. Here's my heart, oh take and seal it. Seal it for Thine courts above."

Long Winter's Nap

‘Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house / Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse / The stockings were hung by the chimney with care / In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there / The children were nestled all snug in their beds / While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads / And mamma in her ‘kerchief and I in my cap / Had just settled down for a long winter’s nap …

These famous American verses were originally published in 1823 anonymously as “A Visit from St. Nicholas” (later attributed to Clement Clarke Moore—friend of Washington Irving—also attributed by some to Henry Livingston, Jr.). The poem, now culturally known as “The Night Before Christmas,” is arguably the most well-known American verse of all. But my eyes … my brain … my shoulders … my back … my feet … my entire material and immaterial being gets to lines 7 & 8 and then stops! Mamma and I settling down “for a long winter’s nap.”

Oh yes, the December rush is fully upon us all and it is only the second weekend in the month. Egad! All I want for Christmas is that “long winter’s nap”; a nap which “that lively old elf” actually interrupted in the poem … thanks for nothing, you imp! J I distinctly remember hearing these lines as a child and somehow connecting a long winter’s nap with hibernation somewhat like a bear’s—wow, that’s a long sleep, I used to think. Three decades later I don’t think that “hibernation” seems long in the slightest. It sounds just about right for December.

Astride the profound fatigue that finds the children all “nestled all snug in the beds” in the other room while “mamma in her ‘kerchief and I in my cap” still shuffling around long after bedtime there is a genuine aching for the material and immaterial rest we have in Christ. While “visions of sugar-plums dance” in the children’s dreams, my vision scans the horizon for the Christ who said, “It is finished!”

How can it be finished when there is still so much left to do? Ah yes, that is the creaturely way of looking at it—but the rest of Christ remains accessible through faith all the while. It is an active rest; a mobile rest even a sweaty rest in the middle of laboring with Christ. It is a rest that believes all the work left to be done is being done by God who now moves through His spiritually enabled people—the church. It is already all done and somehow not yet all “tied off.” And so December finds us still cemented to time and space and linear chronology, but the rest of Christ is real and it is here and it is exactly what this “decembered” papa in his night-cap needs to remember.

Resurrection

Falling, falling falling; the leaves are dropping now like rain, like snow covering the grass and my pick-up and the driveway. The branches and boughs must be content somehow to release the weight, responsibility, burden of all of their hundreds of thousands of broad leaves in light of the upcoming “long winter’s nap.” I can almost hear the exhale of relief after 8 months of labor of photosynthesis and hydration and evaporation and oxygenization as the November wind blows more of these gray-brown leaves to their mulch-heaps. But it is not a fatalism that November brings; it is a hope of April … a hope of the resurrection. The trees are just making space for the resurgence of life—new leaves can’t bud unless the old leaves are gone. “That which you sow does not come to life unless it dies” (1 Corinthians 15:36). The trees are banking on resuscitation. They are keeping no leaves in reserve just in case springtime doesn’t show up [old leaves which wouldn’t work anyway in the flipside]. Their “today” is impacted by their tomorrow. Tomorrow’s resurrection directly touches today’s decisions, morality, priorities and endurance.

After a long, exquisite, reasonable and detailed lesson on the necessity of the resurrection in 1 Corinthians 15, Paul adds this encouragement to his readers: “Therefore, my beloved brethren, be steadfast, immovable, always abounding in the work of the Lord, knowing that your toil is not in vain in the Lord” (15:58). Steadfastness, immovability, endurance—these are a direct result of the firm belief in the resurrection in the Lord. Today’s toil is not what we have to muddle through just killing time until the resurrection. No! We toil today “knowing that [our] toil is not in vain in the Lord” … the same Lord who told Martha earlier in a similar context where the resurrection of the dead was kind of relegated to the hereafter and erroneously divorced from the toil and worry and pain of today. “Jesus said, ‘I am the resurrection and the life; he who believes in Me will live even if he dies. And everyone who lives and believes in Me will never die. Do you believe this?’” (John 11:25-26). Present tense—I am the resurrection and the life. Present tense—Martha, do you believe this, right now in mourning, right here in the graveyard? Tomorrow’s resurrection is arguably the most concrete and reliable piece of our today. The fact of Christ’s resurrection—foretold, accomplished, witnessed, recorded, passed on through preaching (1 Corinthians 15:1-11)—trumps all other “facts” that fill our days. And every day we have the question placed to us: “Do you believe this?”

Do we believe the resurrection in the hospital room, in the courtroom, in the living room, in the bedroom? Do we believe the resurrection in the quiet, in the noise, in the soft, in the hard? Do we believe the resurrection when all human hope is gone, when all bets are lost, when all dreams have become nightmares, when all delights have turned to ash in our experience? Today—especially a “today” that is painful—is exactly the moment where resurrection needs to be remembered. After all, resurrection is the signature miracle of our great God and Savior—bringing life out of death. Are we making space by faith for the resurgence of life?

To See or Be Seen

On a rare "date night" my wife and I headed toward the city to increase our restaurant options. We had a babysitter for the kids, a gift card for the meal, a couple of hours for each other, and about 100,000 motorcyclists with whom we shared the road. It was the annual "Bikes, Blues & BBQ" rally; the interstate was literally clogged to a stand-still. It is apparently one of the largest bike rallies in the country.

We saw Harleys and Hondas, trikes and choppers, ape-hangers and air-brushed flames, campers pulling trailers loaded with bikes and bikes pulling trailers loaded with camping gear. We even saw a couple of 14-year old boys pulling onto Highway 412 squeezing every ounce of power out of their 49cc engines achieving, maybe, 40 mph. Whether it was the various expressions of chrome and leather, red, white and blue wind-resistant accessories, Kevlar bodysuits and suede fringe, rebel and POW-MIA flags or the music exhibitions, the food presentations, the bike demonstrations, and the Miss BB&B beauty competition -- this rally was apparently the place to see and be seen on the first day of October.

It is no surprise that we promptly turned north while the line of traffic crawled southward. We had our hearts set on ... not on seeing and being seen by 100,000+ bikers and bike-admirers, but set on ... knowing and being known by each other after at least a month since our last time together without the children.

Seeing and being seen might entertain us for one weekend a year (but not for us; not this year!), but as humans we were designed by God to know and be known. We are relational beings. Knowing each other and God and being known by others and by God is exactly where the good and eternal life begins.

"And this is eternal life, that they may know You, the only true God, and Jesus Christ whom You have sent" (John 17:3).

Glorify

My father sent me a note and a verse along with a prayer. I was fresh out of the hospital and still involuntarily “bent over” from my recent abdominal surgery.

“And there was a woman who for eighteen years had had a sickness caused by a spirit; and she was bent double, and could not straighten up at all. When Jesus saw her, He called her over and said to her, "Woman, you are freed from your sickness." And He laid His hands on her; and immediately she was made erect again and began glorifying God” (Luke 13:11-13).

Everything was a chore while “bent over”—from laying back to sitting up to walking the steps. I guess I expected those, but I didn’t expect to have trouble sneezing and coughing, too. I can’t imagine carrying water or making supper or any of the slightest routines of life in the ancient world with which this real woman must have struggled for eighteen years. I was scantly bothered by eighteen days (and counting).

But my father in his note encouraged me to focus on the end result—“she was made erect again and began glorifying God” (vs. 13). No longer “bent over”—or at least 99% restored (my wife wonders if I have shrunk in stature!)—I am faced with the privilege of glorifying God. I am honored with putting my voice into the chorus of testimonies that calls the world to ascribe the weighty importance due God to God. This is glory. It is all God’s.

So whether it is eighteen years and then healed by one word from Jesus or eighteen (and counting) days and healed by Jesus slowly using doctors, antibiotics, pain medicine, the recuperative qualities of the human body and time—it is my turn and my distinct pleasure to glorify the mysterious God we serve.

I say “mysterious” because our God is also glorified a little later in the gospels by letting His friend Lazarus die in his sickness and begin rotting in the family crypt (John 11:4). And equally bizarre, our “mysterious” God tells Peter a small piece of “the kind of death [by which he] would glorify God” (John 21:19). Glory to God is not always obvious and it is not always unto life. Glory to God is often complex and invisible and impossible to comprehend without faith. Glory to God is deep and wide and even the culmination of our greatest fears and our slenderest prayers all converging in a single moment. Yet whatever the concoction of blood, sweat, tears giving glory to God is the whole-person bowing before the sovereignty of God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Spirit who not only is in control, but who is thoroughly good—saying along with Job, “Though He slay me, I trust in Him” (13:15).

I guess the real question as I stand more and more “upright” with each passing day, would I have given glory to God without the pain? Only God knows. All I know is that glory is His and I will not hesitate to ascribe to Him the glory due His name.