In just a few weeks, I’ll mark the 24th anniversary of Seminary Call Night, the evening when soon-to-be graduates find out where they will be serving as pastor. I thought about this the other day when, digging through some pictures, I found one of my best friend and I, standing on the chapel steps that evening. We had visions of grandeur. We would graduate with highest of praise, be placed in a large city with a big church that worships hundreds. 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 grow 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 because I was down in the dumps. My first parish was about as opposite those dreams as they could be: a very small congregation in a mostly Southern Baptist community in East Texas where Lutherans were a rarity. Average attendance was less than 40. I had baptized one child, confirmed two. Buried five. Not much of a success story, I lamented. 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
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