In just a few weeks, I’ll mark the 18th
anniversary of Seminary Call Night, the evening when soon-to-be graduates find
out where they will be serving as pastor. Last weekend, when I was at my friend’s
installation, we were remembering and reflecting on our time as students and as
pastors. We had great plans. We would graduate with
highest of praise, be placed in a large city with a big church that worships
500 or more. That church, which already would have a great reputation, would experience a tremendous growth under our pastoral leadership and attendance would swell, programs would blossom, people would flock to the church and baptisms, confirmations, and weddings would be a
regular occurrence. As the church would grow, our reputations would grows as well
and we would become circuit visitors, then one of us an area vice president, with the other becoming
District president – all the while doing the job better than anyone who had
come before us.
James and John had the same mindset, wanting to be in on
management level in Jesus’ kingdom. “Grant us to sit, one at your left and one
at your right, Jesus,” was the brothers’ request. Of course, one wonders how
they would have figured out who would have had which seat. After all, if they
are willing to try to out maneuver the other ten disciples, including Peter,
what’s a little sibling rivalry?
You’ve heard me say this before: they think Jesus is
going to be establishing a monarchy in the line of David. They think He’s going
to be making political appointments – secretary of state kind of stuff, the
kind of position where you want to be considered. Fun and games, power and
authority, palace ballrooms and schwanky dinners…all theirs, just for the
asking.
But reality is sometimes a far cry from what is wanted.
Jesus turns James and John upside down. First, those
positions of power and authority aren’t His to give. Even if they were, the
brothers don’t have a grasp on what they are asking. This is the kind of stuff
that Gentiles look for. That’s not the life of discipleship, that’s not life
under the cross.
To their arrogant request, Jesus asks if they can drink
the cup He is about to drink, or be baptized in the way He is about to be
baptized – speaking of His death. Again, foolishly, they think they can do this…or
whatever it takes to get those coveted positions of power. I can almost see
Jesus shaking His head – can’t you? - “You will drink, and you will be
baptized.” They will have a share in His suffering and death. They will drink
from His cup at His table, when He gives it to them and says, “Take and drink.
This is my blood of the covenant shed for you.” He drinks the cup of wrath so
that they, and you, may drink His cup of forgiveness. He drinks the accursed
cup so that you might drink the cup of blessing. With the cup and the bread of
His Supper, Jesus gives you a share in His death and life, in His suffering and
sacrifice. And in His glory.
It's a strange kind of glory, isn’t it? We
think of glory with flags and bands and armies marching in a row. Seminary
graduates are full of theology of glory, wanting success and wanting it right
now. Luther called this “theology of glory,” where the cross is bypassed and
the glory of this world is worshipped and adored. But the glory of Christ is
far different. It looks so weak, so defeated, so meaningless to the world.
Death isn’t glorious. General Patton famously said, “Your job isn’t to die for
your country; it’s to make that old so & so die for his!” But this is where
Jesus leads; this is where Jesus leads us.
This is hard to remember; it is hard to
understand. With our eyes, we see the cross, at best, as a cute decorative wall
hanging or a nice piece of jewelry. We don’t even see Jesus. But, through the
lens of faith we see the cross as what we deserve. We deserved to die there for
the sins that we do, think, say, and even those that we inherit. We see Jesus
on that cross, taking our place, trading His perfect life for our failed,
sin-stained disobedience. We hear Jesus cry out, “Father forgive them,” knowing
that it wasn’t just for the soldiers driving home the nails, or the mocking
crowds, or even the disciples who ran. He prayed that for us. And when we hear
the cry, “It is finished,” we remember that Jesus once-for-all death is not
merely sufficient, it is overly abundant in paying the world’s debt price in
full.
He comes as a suffering Servant to serve. His
followers, His disciples, His baptized believers who share His cup are here to
serve, to lay down their lives. Greatness in His kingdom is not about power but
about sacrifice. “Whoever would be great among you must be your servant;
whoever would be first among you must be slave of all.” That’s how the kingdom
of God looks in this world. Humble, self-giving servants of the Servant of all,
who endured the baptism of His cross and drank the cup of God’s wrath in order
to save you, me and the world.
Life under the cross is not glamorous; it is not fun. The
average LCMS Seminary graduate serves a church that worships under 80 people,
and many of those will be under 50. My first church was 35. His salary will be
less than a starting teacher. He’ll work early and late to study and write, visit
and receive visitors. He’ll spend hours at the bedsides of elderly and dying
people. Statistically, he will bury more than baptize and for every three teenagers
he confirms, two will leave the congregation within four years. He will wrestle
with thin budgets. He’ll try new programs and new ideas and either meet direct
resistance or indifference. He scratches his head and wonders what he is doing
wrong. For this purpose, assume he is being faithful. The answer is nothing. It’s
life under the cross in the 21st century.
When I was that young pastor, a friend came to visit me. He
challenged my thinking, asking if I was doing this for my name or for the
kingdom of Christ. In my office, I have a picture of Jesus praying in the
Garden of Gethsemane. It’s a dark picture – literally and figuratively – as the
future of the cross looms in the distance. He pointed to that picture and said,
“Here’s a test for you. Stand before that picture and pray, “Jesus, grant me the
favored seats in your kingdom, either on your right or on your left.” Do you
think that James and John would have said these things while standing at the
foot of Jesus’ cross? Would you?
The positions at Jesus right and left were
reserved for two special people; two special sinners. It probably wasn’t who
you think it could be. It wasn’t James or John, or Peter, or St. Paul. Luke
reports it this way: “And when they came to the place that is called The Skull,
there they crucified Him, and the criminals, one on his right and one on His
left.” One criminal hung onto his theology of glory: “Are you not the Christ?
Save yourself and us!” He wanted Jesus to demonstrate His power now – never
mind that he apparently had no use for Jesus in death, not in life. The other
understood life under the cross, that it wasn’t about the immediate, but the
eternal; it wasn’t about his name, but the Name of the one who hung next to
him: “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.”
Do you want to be great in the kingdom of
God? Be a servant of all. Do you want to be first? Then be last. Do you want a
seat near Jesus? Then go sit among the least and the lost and the lowly and the
losers of this world and you will find the Savior of all. He has a cup for you,
drink it. He has a Baptism for you, be baptized into it. He has forgiveness,
life and salvation for you. Believe it.
In the name
of Jesus,
Amen
Amen
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