Sunday, March 27, 2016

The Badness Makes Friday Good


This year is the first time I have seen any sense in calling Good Friday “good.” Of course Good Friday isn’t good without Easter, but this year I see that Easter would not be the good news it really is without Good Friday.  I used to think Jesus could still die for us and arise from the grave if we did not kill him, and I suppose this is true, but the fact that the people Jesus loved were so bad is the reason Good Friday is so good.

The Good Friday sermon this year was arguably one of the best sermons I’ve ever heard. It rocked my theological world. It was a sermon designed for a literature nerd, making connections between all sorts of verses from all over the Bible, but the part that really has changed my thinking is the translation of Jesus’ last words, “It is finished,” followed by his last action, “He gave up his spirit.” According to Pastor Darr, “It is finished” is not a phrase of despair; it’s not what you say when you throw in the towel and admit defeat. It’s not what you say when your team is eliminated from the end-of-year tournament. The three words are a translation of one word that is the kind of word you would say when you cross the finish line of a marathon, the kind of word you would use when you defend your doctoral dissertation, the kind of word you use when you finish grading 110 final exams and leave for the summer. It’s a word that means, “Yes! I did it!” In the context of the crucifixion, it means that Jesus has accomplished his mission.  And what is his mission? To reveal to humanity the extent of God’s love. Then, “he gave up his spirit” translates more like “he handed over his spirit.” It wasn’t defeat; it was choice.  If it had been Jesus’ will to overpower the soldiers, he tells his disciples, he could have called down an army of angels.  No, he accomplishes his mission through his death on the cross.  I never left a Good Friday service feeling so beloved and hopeful, but it was the next night and on Easter morning that the full impact of Good Friday hit me.

Saturday night we were dealing with the very eleven-year-old-boyness of our eleven-year-old boy. My sister reminded me today that he is a wonderful person, and I do know this, but yesterday he was doing his very best to be as maximally annoying and difficult as he could, and he’s pretty good at being annoying and difficult. By dinnertime, even his extremely patient father had had enough and sent him up to his room during dinner. I believe in dinner together, so although I went along with the punishment for a while, I wanted reconciliation to happen while we were still around the table. I went up to his room to talk to him. The first thing out of my mouth, by the grace of God, was, “I love you. There’s not much you could do to make me not love you because you are my boy.” My point was going to be that his behavior isn’t about me but about who he intends to be and how he intends to interact with the rest of the world, but as the words came out of my mouth, they started to vibrate the Good Friday strings that had recently been plucked.

The following morning, Easter morning, is usually my favorite morning of the year. This year, though, I was grumpy because our house, even at its best, is never picked up. I sometimes think I should quit my job so I can stay home while everyone is gone and throw away all of their stuff. I am angry pretty much every moment I spend at home and not either sleeping or eating. I feel, consequently, like a terrible parent and spouse. This morning our Easter egg hunt, inside because of the weather, started in the living room. While the kids were ecstatically finding eggs, I was busy being angry that the telescope the kids received for CHRISTMAS was still in the LIVING ROOM. Lord help me, that seemed like the worst thing in the world this morning, especially when combined with all the piles of stuff we don’t need that have become the constant state of our dining room and the piles of Christmas and birthday presents in our family room.  It was Easter morning, and I was angry, as I am always angry lately. Then I was angry at myself for being angry on Easter and for being angry so often and not being a joyful mother or person. Ugh. To intensify my lack of joy, I decided, as I often do, that I am a horrible person and not worthy of anyone’s love. Fortunately for me, my son displayed a bit of annoying and selfish behavior, and when I flashed back to our conversation the night before, suddenly the pieces fell into place. Easter means that even when I am angry, petty, stupid, negative, and self-centered, God will still come back. Every Easter. Every day. There is nothing I can say or do or be that will make God not love me. I could torture and kill him, and he would love me. It is finished. Jesus showed me that before I said, “I love you. There’s not much you could do to make me not love you because you are my boy,” God had said that to me. My behavior might affect how I feel and how I get along with others, but there is no amount of grumpiness or perfectionism or pettiness that will drive away God.

That is the good news of Easter. It’s not just about conquering death. Jesus could have accidentally fallen off a cliff and conquered death. Jesus could have been hunted down by the Roman army while all of his friends and fellow Jews fought to the death to defend him; Jesus could then have defeated death in a triumphant in-your-face sort of act, but that is not how it happened. Instead, his religious leaders resented him, his followers betrayed and denied him, and his people told Pilate that they did not call him their king and wanted Barabas released instead of Jesus. Jesus didn’t come to defeat the Romans; he came to prove God’s undefeatable love for us. The good news of Jesus is not that he came back from death; it’s that he came back from death to us, the angry, the resentful, the petty, the selfish, the annoying, the stubborn, the weak, the frightened, and the stupid. In the last few months of his life, he saw the very worst that humanity has to offer, and he managed to hand over his spirit and say, “It is finished”--I did it. I have shown them that God loves them no matter what. Now they will know that there is nothing they can do that could make me not love them. Bam.

If humans can kill Jesus on a cross, and he will still come back and love and comfort them, surely he forgives me for all of the darkness in my heart too. It is proven. It is finished. Amen. Hallelujah. Good.

31What, then, shall we say in response to these things? If God is for us, who can be against us? 32He who did not spare his own Son, but gave him up for us all—how will he not also, along with him, graciously give us all things? 33Who will bring any charge against those whom God has chosen? It is God who justifies. 34Who then is the one who condemns? No one. Christ Jesus who died—more than that, who was raised to life—is at the right hand of God and is also interceding for us. 35Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall trouble or hardship or persecution or famine or nakedness or danger or sword? 36As it is written:

“For your sake we face death all day long;
we are considered as sheep to be slaughtered.” 
37No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. 38For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, 39neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord. (Romans 8:31-39.)