Easter

Truth or Consequences

There were also two criminals led out with Jesus to be put to death. When they came to a place called the Skull, the soldiers crucified Jesus and the criminals – one on his right and the other on his left ….

One of the criminals on a cross began to shout insults at Jesus: “Aren’t you the Christ? Then save yourself and us.”

But the other criminal stopped him and said, “You should fear God! You are getting the same punishment he is. We are punished justly, getting what we deserve for what we did. But this man has done nothing wrong.” Then he said, “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.”

Jesus said to him, “I tell you the truth, today you will be with me in  paradise.”

(Luke 23:32-33, 39-43)

During the latter half of the 1800’s, Edwin Thomas had few professional rivals. Standing a modest 5’6”, but blessed with a huge baritone voice, he’s still considered by most theatrical historians as the greatest American actor, and the greatest Hamlet, of the 19^th century. Debuting in Richard III at the tender age of fifteen, he quickly established himself as a premier Shakespearean actor. In New York, he performed Hamlet for 100 consecutive nights, a record that stood for almost sixty years until 1922 when John Barrymore broke Edwin’s streak by playing the title character in 101 consecutive performances. And in London, Edwin won the approval of the notoriously tough British critics. In short, when it came to performing tragedy on stage, Edwin Thomas was in a very select group, indeed. Unfortunately, when it came to experiencing tragedy in life, the same could be said as well.

Edwin had two brothers, John and Junius. Both were actors, although neither rose to Edwin’s stature. But, in 1863, the three brothers decided to unite their talents and perform Julius Caesar. The fact that Edwin’s brother, John, took the role of Marc Antony was, perhaps, a harbinger of what awaited the brothers – and the nation – two years later. You see, John, who played the role of the assassin’s victim in Julius Caesar, is the same John who became the real-life assassin at Ford’s Theatre when, on a crisp April night in 1865, he quietly stole into the rear of the box in the Washington theatre and fired a bullet at the head of Abraham Lincoln. Yes, the last name of the brothers was Booth – Edwin Thomas Booth and John Wilkes Booth.

Edwin was never the same after that night. Shame from his brother’s crime drove him into an early retirement of sorts. And he might never have returned to the stage had it not been for a strange twist of fate at a Jersey City train station.

Edwin was waiting for his train when a well-dressed young man, jostled by the crowd, lost his balance and fell between the railroad platform and an approaching train. Without hesitation, Edwin locked a leg around a railing, grabbed the man by his collar, and snatched him to safety. After sighs of relief, the young man immediately recognized the famous face of Edwin Booth. Edwin, however, didn’t recognize the young man that he’d rescued. That knowledge came a few months later in a letter. The letter was from a friend of Edwin’s, Col. Adam Badeau, who was chief secretary to General Ulysses S. Grant. The letter was sent to thank Edwin for saving the life of the child of an American hero, Abraham Lincoln. How ironic that while one brother killed the President, the other brother saved the President’s son, Robert Todd Lincoln.

 Edwin Thomas and John Wilkes Booth. Same father, same mother, same upbringing, same education, same training, same profession, same passion. Yet, one chose life, while the other chose death. How could that happen? I don’t know, but it does. And although their story may seem rather dramatic, it’s certainly not unique – not by a long-shot. Don’t believe me? How ‘bout Cain and Abel? They were both sons of Adam and Eve, but Abel chose God and Cain chose murder – and God let him. Abraham and Lot were both pilgrims in Canaan, but Abraham chose God and Lot chose Sodom – and God let him. David and Saul were both kings of Israel, but David chose God while Saul chose power – and God let him. Peter and Judas both denied their Lord, but Peter sought mercy while Judas sought death – and God let him.

You see, in every age of history, and on every page of the Bible, the simple truth is revealed: God allows us to make our own choices. In fact, no one makes that clearer than Jesus himself. In Matthew 7:13-14, Jesus talks about a number of choices we can make: a narrow gate versus a wide gate; a narrow road versus a wide road; the big crowd versus the small crowd. All of them, choices. And, we can choose to build on rock or sand (Matt. 7:24-27), serve God or riches (Matt. 6:24), or choose to be a sheep or a goat. (Matt. 25:32-33) God gives us eternal choices, and these choices have eternal consequences.

But he also invites our questions before we make that choice. For instance, have you ever thought, “Well, if God is such a good God, why does he allow human trafficking to steal our kids, or cancer to steal our health, or homelessness to steal our dignity, or death to steal our loved ones?!” I don’t have any glib answers to that question. Questions with the words “Why” and “God” in the same sentence are difficult to answer because we’re caught between what God says and what makes sense. We’ve done what He’s told us to do, only to wonder if it was Him talking in the first place.

We’ve stared into a sky blackened with doubt and wondered if we’re still on the right road. We’ve asked if we were supposed to turn left when we turned right. And we’ve asked if there’s a plan out there somewhere because things really haven’t turned out quite the way we thought they would. We’ve asked our questions. Maybe we’ve even questioned God. But regardless, we still wonder why God does what He does.

In the 11^th chapter of John, we read of a funeral that involved some very hard questions being asked by family members with some very raw feelings.

On his arrival, Jesus found that Lazarus had already been in the tomb for four days. Now Bethany was less than two miles from Jerusalem, and many Jews had come to Martha and Mary to comfort them in the loss of their brother. When Martha heard that Jesus was coming, she went out to meet him, but Mary stayed at home.

“Lord,” Martha said to Jesus, “if you had been here, my brother would not have died. But I know that even now God will give you whatever you ask.”

Jesus said to her, “Your brother will rise again.” Martha answered, “I know he will rise again in the resurrection at the last day.”

Jesus said to her, “I am the resurrection and the life. The one who believes in me will live, even though they die; and whoever lives by believing in me will never die. Do you believe this?” “Yes, Lord,” she replied, “I believe that you are the Messiah, the Son of God, who is to come into the world.”

            After she had said this, she went back and called her sister Mary aside. “The Teacher is here,” she said, “and is asking for you.” When Mary heard this, she got up quickly and went to him. Now Jesus had not yet entered the village, but was still at the place where Martha had met him. When the Jews who had been with Mary in the house, comforting her, noticed how quickly she got up and went out, they followed her, supposing she was going to the tomb to mourn there.

When Mary reached the place where Jesus was and saw him, she fell at his feet and said, “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.”

            When Jesus saw her weeping, and the Jews who had come along with her also weeping, he was deeply moved in spirit and troubled. “Where have you laid him?” he asked.

“Come and see, Lord,” they replied.

Jesus wept.

Lazarus had come from a very close family, among them two sisters: Martha and Mary. And, like a lot of us, Lazarus came from a good family and had a bunch of friends, one of whom, in this case, was Jesus. Problem is Jesus arrived in Bethany four days after Lazarus had already passed. And as he approaches the house full of people crying, both sisters run out to him, at separate times, and say, “Lord, if only you had been here, my brother would not have died.”

But I think these kind of “If” questions are pretty normal.  So, if you’ve asked yourself something similar, don’t blame yourself. “OK, you say. But if we’re not to blame, then, who is? God?” Well, that’s precisely what Martha and Mary imply as they grieve over the death of their brother: “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.”

I’ve learned some time ago that it’s pretty senseless to accuse God or try to explain Him. But it’s not senseless, and certainly not sinful, to question Him. And maybe we’ve wondered why God lets certain things happen like human trafficking, or cancer, or homelessness, or even death. And it’s OK to ask these kinds of questions because we know from our story that Jesus didn’t scold these sisters for suggesting that maybe, just maybe, their brother’s death was really Jesus’ fault. So, what was Jesus’ response? He wept.

Frankly, this kind of puzzles me. Why is the King of kings and Lord of lords breaking down and crying at that moment? I mean, here’s God with skin on attending the funeral of a friend and weeping openly, without embarrassment and without apology, knowing full well that He’s eventually going to raise Lazarus from the dead! But as you continue to read the story, answers to the family’s “If” question gradually come into focus. First, Jesus wept for the family – for Martha and Mary and perhaps others in Lazarus’ immediate family. You see, when Jesus arrived He could see their pain and their suffering and the effects of losing their brother in their tear-filled eyes. So, He shared in the loss of the family and wept.

But I think Jesus’ tears were not only for the family, but because He, too, had suffered a loss. Lazarus was His friend. Maybe Jesus traveled with him, ate with him, talked for hours on the phone with him, Facebooked him, Twittered him, golfed with him, whatever. And, as a result, had grown in close fellowship with him. But Jesus’ friend was now gone; that relationship had been broken, and Jesus felt the pain of losing a friend. So, he wept.

And there may be one other reason why Jesus cried: Jesus knew that He Himself would soon face death. And He knew that there would be pain and sorrow among His own family and friends. And each of us will face the reality of death, eventually. Or, it may be that we’ll be orphaned by the death of a loved one or friend before our time comes. But the reality is that loved ones will be left behind. And so, Jesus wept.

And if that’s as far as the story went, it wouldn’t provide us much solace, or hope. But the story doesn’t stop there. John goes on to tell us that Jesus went to the tomb of his friend Lazarus. And at that point the truth then becomes crystal clear: that in Jesus there’s the power of life. Because Jesus spoke the words and Lazarus rose from the grave. And because of that event we, too, have hope. Because if Jesus can raise his friend Lazarus from the grave, He can raise us, too.

Ever thought about why there were two crosses next to Christ? I mean, why not six, or ten, or a dozen or more? And if you’ve actually thought about that, have you then wondered why Jesus was in the center? Why not on the far right, or far left, instead? Maybe this is a stretch, but could it be that the crosses on either side of the savior symbolized God’s gift of choice? Now, before you think I’ve gone just a little too far, keep reading.

The two thieves had a lot in common, didn’t they? They were convicted by the same system; they were condemned to the same death; they were surrounded by the same crowd; and they were equally close to Jesus. In fact, they even began with the same sarcasm: “The two criminals also said cruel things to Jesus.” (Matt. 27:44) But then, one of the thieves changed:

One of the criminals on a cross began to shout insults at Jesus: “Aren’t you the Christ? Then save yourself and us.” But the other criminal stopped him and said, “You should fear God! You are getting the same punishment he is. We are punished justly, getting what we deserve for what we did. But this man has done nothing wrong.” Then he said, “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.” Jesus said to him, “I tell you the truth, today you will be with me in paradise.” (Luke 23:39-43)

Now, a lot has been said about the penitent thief, but what about the other guy? “Yeah, what about him, Jesus? Wouldn’t a personal invitation have been appropriate? Wouldn’t a word of persuasion been timely, especially given the circumstances?” I mean, doesn’t the shepherd leave the ninety-nine sheep and pursue the one, lost sheep? And doesn’t the housewife sweep the house until the lost coin is found? Yes, the shepherd pursues and the housewife sweeps, but the father of the prodigal (the last “lost” parable in the trilogy) does nothing. Why? Well, maybe it’s because the sheep was lost innocently, and the coin was lost irresponsibly. But the prodigal son? He left intentionally. The father had given the prodigal son the choice, and Jesus gave the criminals the same.

There are times in life when it feels like God has sent thunder to stir us up, or times when God showers us with his blessings to draw us in. But then there’s those times when God sends nothing but silence as he honors us with the freedom to choose where we spend eternity. What an honor, don’t you think? I mean, in so many areas of life we don’t have a choice, do we? For instance, we didn’t choose our gender, our family, our race, or our place of birth. And, let’s face it; sometimes that lack of choice really angers us. “It’s not fair,” we say. “It’s not fair that I was born in poverty, or that I sing poorly, or that I run so slowly.” All that changed, however, in the Garden of Eden. Man made a choice, and it wasn’t for God. And man is suffering the consequences of that choice. It’s called sin.

Granted, it would have been nice if God had let us order life like ordering a meal at a smorgasbord. “I’ll take good health and a high IQ, please. But I’ll pass on the music skills. However, give me a great big portion of fast metabolism!” That would’ve been nice, but that’s not what happened. When it came to life on earth, you weren’t given a voice or even a vote.

But when it comes to life after death, you’ve got a choice. Seems like a pretty good deal to me. Wouldn’t you agree? Honestly, have we been given any greater privilege than that of choice? Not only does this privilege offset any injustice, but the gift of free will can offset any mistakes. Really? Yes, really, and here’s why.

Think about the thief who repented. We don’t know a lot about him, but we know this: he made some pretty bad choices in life. He chose the wrong crowd, the wrong morals, and the wrong behavior. But would you consider his life a waste? Is he spending eternity reaping the fruit of all the bad choices he made? No, just the opposite. He’s enjoying the fruit of the one good choice he made. In the end, all of his bad choices were redeemed by one good choice.

And we’ve all made bad choices in life. We’ve chosen the wrong friends, the wrong car, the wrong way, or maybe even the wrong career. We look back over the years of our life and say, “If only ….”  “If only I could make up for all those bad choices.” Well, you can. One good choice for eternity offsets a million bad ones made on earth – and the choice is yours to make.

So, how can two brothers be born of the same mother, grow up in the same home, and one chooses life while the other chooses death? I don’t know, but they did. Or, how could two men see the same Jesus and one choose to mock Him and the other choose to pray to him? I don’t know that either, but they did. And when one prayed, Jesus loved him enough to save him. And when the other mocked him, Jesus loved him enough to let him.

It’s a choice from which you cannot abstain. It’s not like you can say, “Well, that Jesus thing. You know, that’s a hard one. I think I’ll just abstain.” And I know the tendency: hard choices sometimes result in procrastination. But have you ever procrastinated on making a choice and then, one day, find that the choice has already been made for you? You see, one day, you will have either chosen Jesus, and chosen life, or you’ve rejected Jesus and chosen eternal separation from His presence. It’s a choice you cannot avoid. But Satan would like you to think so!

There’s a story about Satan and a couple of his lieutenants. And they’re having a discussion as to how best to get people to follow Satan and reject Jesus. So, the first lieutenant speaks up: “Hey, Boss. Let’s just tell them there’s no help. You know, there’s no God.” “Hmmmm,” Satan replies. “Problem is, I’ve tried that one already, and there’s just too much evidence of God’s existence.” With that, the second lieutenant pipes up and says, “I know, and I agree. Don’t tell ‘em there’s no help, simply tell ‘em there’s no hope. You know: that they’re just too jacked up for God to even care, much less, forgive them.” “Hmmmmmm,” Satan replies. “That’s pretty creative.” “However, when you consider that God sent his son Jesus, whom I know very well, to die for the sins of the planet, I don’t think you’re going to win on that one.” Finally, the last lieutenant offers his suggestion. “Boss, I agree. Telling them there’s no help or no hope is … well … hopeless. So, instead of feeding them those lies, how ‘bout we just tell ‘em there’s no hurry.” And so the lie.

We don’t know when the Lord will return but, from the looks of it, it’s certainly closer today than it was before. And you know there’s help and you know there’s hope. But maybe you’ve believed that there’s no hurry. Well, maybe that’s true. But then again, maybe it’s not.

One last thought, and it’s from one of my favorite Christian authors, C.S. Lewis who, as an adolescent, fell away from his faith, only to be later restored at the encouragement of his close friend J. R. R. Tolkien. Of this matter, Lewis said: "I am trying here to prevent anyone saying the really foolish thing that people often say about Him: I’m ready to accept Jesus as a great moral teacher, but I don’t accept his claim to be God. That is the one thing we must not say. A man who was merely a man and said the sort of things Jesus said would not be a great moral teacher. He would either be a lunatic — on the level with the man who says he is a poached egg — or else he would be the Devil of Hell. You must make your choice. Either this man was, and is, the Son of God, or else a madman or something worse. You can shut him up for a fool, you can spit at him and kill him as a demon or you can fall at his feet and call him Lord and God, but let us not come with any patronizing nonsense about his being a great human teacher. He has not left that open to us. He did not intend to.”

So, no matter how strange or terrifying or unlikely it may seem, I have to accept the view that He was and is God. That’s the truth. Or would you rather suffer the consequences?

Grace,

Randy