From Tragedy to Triumph

 

From Tragedy to Triumph

From Tragedy to Triumph - Audio/Visual 

Early on Sunday morning, while it was still dark, Mary Magdalene came to the tomb and found that the stone had been rolled away from the entrance. She ran and found Simon Peter and the other disciple, the one whom Jesus loved. She said, “They have taken the Lord’s body out of the tomb, and we don’t know where they have put him!”

Peter and the other disciple started out for the tomb. They were both running, but the other disciple outran Peter and reached the tomb first. He stooped and looked in and saw the linen wrappings lying there, but he didn’t go in. Then Simon Peter arrived and went inside. He also noticed the linen wrappings lying there, while the cloth that had covered Jesus’ head was folded up and lying apart from the other wrappings. Then the disciple who had reached the tomb first also went in, and he saw and believed — for until then they still hadn’t understood the Scriptures that said Jesus must rise from the dead. Then they went home. (John 20:1-10)

Let’s talk about grave clothes for a minute, alright? Fun stuff, huh? Hardly. Make a list of depressing subjects and burial garments would be somewhere between an IRS audit and a root canal. No one likes grave clothes. No one discusses grave clothes. For instance, have you ever tried to spice up the conversation at the dinner table with, “So, what are you planning to wear to your funeral?” Probably not. Or have you ever seen a store specializing in burial garments, like that popular retailer, “Clothes to Die For”? Most people don’t talk about grave clothes.

The apostle John, apparently, was an exception to this rule. Ask him, and he’ll tell you how he came to see burial garments as a symbol of triumph. Mind you, he didn’t always see them that way. A tangible reminder of the death of his best friend, Jesus, they used to seem like a symbol of tragedy. But on that first Easter Sunday, God took the clothing of death and made it a symbol of life. Could God do the same for you?

We all face tragedy. What’s more, we sometimes wear the symbols of our tragedy. Yours might be an ID bracelet from the hospital, a scar, or a Summons from a process server. For a few families I know, it was an ash heap they once called their home. We don’t like these symbols, nor do we want these symbols. Like wrecked cars in a junkyard, they clutter up our hearts with memories of bad days. But could God use these things for something good? I mean, how far can we really go with verses like, “In everything God works for the good of those who love him.” (Rom. 8:28) Does “everything” include tumors and tests and temper tantrums and terminations? John would say, “Yes.” John would tell you that God can turn any tragedy into a triumph, if only you will wait and watch. And, to prove his point, he would tell you about one Friday in particular:

Later, Joseph from Arimathea asked Pilate if he could take the body of Jesus. (Joseph was a secret follower of Jesus because he was afraid of some of the leaders.) Pilate gave his permission, so Joseph came and took Jesus’ body away. Nicodemus, who earlier had come to Jesus at night, went with Joseph. He brought about seventy-five pounds of myrrh and aloes. These two men took Jesus’ body and wrapped it with the spices in pieces of linen cloth, which is how they bury the dead. (John 19:38–40)

Reluctant during Christ’s life, but courageous at his death, Joseph and Nicodemus came to serve Jesus. They came to bury him. They ascended the hill bearing the burial clothing. Pilate had given his permission. Joseph of Arimathea had given a tomb. Nicodemus had brought the spices and linens. In fact, John states that Nicodemus brought seventy-five pounds of myrrh and aloes. The amount is worth noting because a quantity like that was typically reserved for kings. John also comments on the linens because, at least to him, they were a picture of a Friday tragedy. You see, as long as there were no grave clothes, as long as there was no tomb, as long as there was no coroner, there was hope. But the arrival of the hearse triggered hope’s leaving the station. And to John, the grave clothes symbolized tragedy.

And could there have been a greater tragedy for John than a dead Jesus? Because three years earlier John had turned his back on his career and threw his lot in with the carpenter from Nazareth. Earlier in the week John had enjoyed a ticker-tape parade as Jesus and the disciples entered Jerusalem. But how quickly things had turned. The people who had called Jesus “King” on Sunday were calling for his torture and death the following Friday, and these linens were a tangible reminder that his friend and his future were wrapped in cloth and sealed behind a rock that was guarded and too big to move.

Of course, John didn’t know on that Friday what you and I know now. He didn’t know that Friday’s tragedy would be Sunday’s triumph. John would later confess that he “did not yet understand from the Scriptures that Jesus must rise from the dead.” (John 20:9) That’s why what he did on Saturday is so important. But the truth is that we don’t know anything about that particular Saturday; we don’t have a verse to read, or even a little bit of knowledge to share. All we know is that when Sunday came, John was there because when Mary Magdalene came looking for him, she found him. Jesus was dead. The Master’s body was lifeless. John’s friend and future were buried in a stone vault. But John stuck around. Why? Was he waiting for the resurrection? No. As far as he knew, Jesus’ lips were forever silent, and his hands would be forever still. He wasn’t expecting a Sunday surprise.

Then why was he there because you’d think he would have left. Who was to say that the men who crucified Christ wouldn’t come after him, too? The crowds were pleased with one crucifixion, so maybe the religious leaders would call for more. So why didn’t John get out of town? Perhaps the answer was pragmatic: maybe he was taking care of Jesus’ mother. Or, perhaps, he didn’t have anywhere else to go. Or maybe he didn’t have any money, energy, or direction … or, perhaps, all of the above. Or maybe he lingered because he loved Jesus. To some, Jesus was a miracle worker. To others, Jesus was a master teacher. And to the masses, Jesus was the hope of Israel. But to John, he was all of these and then some. To John, Jesus was a friend. And you don’t abandon a friend — even when that friend is gone. So, John stayed close to Jesus. He had a habit of doing that.

For instance, John was close to Jesus in the upper room. He was close to Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane. He was at the foot of the cross at the crucifixion, and he was a quick sprint from the tomb at the burial. Did he understand Jesus? No. Was he glad Jesus did what he did? No. But did he leave Jesus? No. And what about you? When you’re in John’s position, what do you do? When it’s Saturday in your life, how do you react? When you’re somewhere between yesterday’s tragedy and tomorrow’s triumph, what do you do? Do you leave God, or do you linger near him? John chose to linger. And because he lingered on Saturday, he was around on Sunday to see the miracle.

As we learn from the narrative, Peter and John were given the news early on Sunday morning: “Jesus’ body is missing!” And you get the distinct impression that Mary was urgent, both with her announcement and her opinion. She thought Jesus’ enemies had taken his body away. So, being typical guys, the two disciples take off for the hewn-rock sepulcher, John outrunning Peter and arriving first. What he saw, however, so stunned John that he froze at the entrance. So, what was so stunning? “Strips of linen cloth,” apparently. He saw “the cloth that had been around Jesus’ head … folded up and laid in a different place from the strips of linen.” He saw “cloth lying.” What was so important about the laundry?

Well, the original Greek provides some insight. John employs a term that means “rolled up,” or “still in their folds.” In other words, these burial wraps had not been ripped off and thrown on the ground like in some college dorm. They were, instead, still in their original state, i.e., the linens were undisturbed. The grave clothes were still rolled and folded. But how could that be? Because if friends had removed the body, wouldn’t they have taken the clothes too? On the other hand, if enemies had taken the body, wouldn’t they have done the same? And if not, if for some reason friends or enemies had unwrapped the body, would they have been so careful to leave the clothing in such a neat, tidy little package? Not likely. But if neither friend nor foe took the body, who did?

That was John’s question, and that question led to John’s discovery. “He saw and believed.” (John 20:8) Through the rags of death, John saw the power of life. Odd, don’t you think, that God would use something as sad as a burial wrap to change a life? But God’s like that. In his hand a bunch of empty wine jugs at a wedding became a symbol of power; the halfpenny of a widow became a symbol of incredible generosity; a crude manger in Bethlehem became a symbol of devotion; and a tool of death became a symbol of love. So, should we be so surprised that he took the wrappings of death and made them the picture of life? No, not hardly.

Which takes us back to the original question. Could God do something similar in your life? Could he take what today is a token of your tragedy and turn it into a symbol of your triumph? Yes, he can. And all you have to do is what John did – don’t leave; hang around and remember the second half of that Romans passage: “God works for the good of those who love him.” (Rom. 8:28) That’s how John felt about Jesus. He loved him. He didn’t understand him or even always agree with him, but he loved him. And because he loved, he stayed. And because he stayed, he saw. And because he saw, he believed.

The Bible says that “in everything God works for the good of those who love him.” But if you’re having a hard time believing his word, try this. Remove the word everything and replace it with the symbol of your own tragedy. For instance, for John, the verse would read: “In burial clothing God works for the good of those who love him.” So, how would Romans 8:28 read in your life? In hospital stays God works for the good. In pink slips God works for the good. In a prison cell God works for the good. If God could change John’s life through tragedy, could he use a tragedy to change your own? As hard as it may be to believe, you may be only a Saturday away from a resurrection when you, too, will see and believe.

He Is Risen!

Randy

God Uses Failures

 

God Uses Failures

God Uses Failures - Audio/Visual 

Then the Lord said to Joshua, “Do not be afraid or discouraged. Take all your fighting men and attack Ai, for I have given you the king of Ai, his people, his town, and his land. You will destroy them as you destroyed Jericho and its king. (Joshua 8:1-2)

I have a distinct memory from the 1991 Super Bowl. I'm not what you would call a football junkie, nor do I have some extraordinary sense of recall. Truth is, I don't remember anything about the '91 football season – except one, small detail. A headline. An observation prompted by Scott Norwood's kick. He played for the Buffalo Bills, and the city of Buffalo hadn't won a major sports championship since 1965. But that night in Tampa Bay it appeared the ball would finally bounce the Bills' way. With seconds to go they were a point down. They reached the Giants' twenty-nine-yard line. There was time for only one more play. So, they turned to their kicker, Scott Norwood. All-Pro. Leading scorer of the team. As predictable as snow in Buffalo.

The world watched as Norwood went through his pre-kick routine. He tuned out the crowd, selected a target line, got a feel for the timing, waited for the snap and kicked the ball. He kept his head down and followed through, and by the time he looked up the ball was three quarters of the way toward the goalpost. That's when he realized he'd missed. The wrong sideline erupted. All of Buffalo groaned. Norwood hung his head. The headline would read, "Wide and to the right: The kick that will forever haunt Scott Norwood." No do-overs. No second chance. No reprieve. He couldn't rewind the tape and create a different result. He had to live with the consequences. And so did Joshua.

He had suffered a humiliating loss. The people of Ai, though fewer in number, had proved greater in might. They’d pounced on Joshua's men, resulting in an unexpected defeat. One of the soldiers, it was learned, had disobeyed God's earlier command. The commander was left with the distasteful, unpleasant task of exposing and punishing the rebel, including his entire family. And Joshua offered a prayer: "Alas, Lord GOD, why have you brought these people over the Jordan at all – to deliver us into the hand of the Amorites, to destroy us?" (Josh. 7:7) Not one of Joshua’s better days.

The guy had been making field goals his entire life. He showed courage as a spy for Moses. He assumed the mantle of leadership. He didn't hesitate at the Jordan. He didn't flinch at Jericho. But in the episode called "Just Achan for Trouble,” he had failed. In front of his army; in front of the enemy; in front of God . . . he’d failed. Joshua dragged himself back to his tent. The entire camp was somber. They had buried thirty-six of their soldiers and witnessed the execution of a countryman and his family. Joshua sensed the glares and stares of the people. Joshua's not a good leader, maybe some murmured. He doesn't have what it takes, others may have mumbled. He knew what they thought. Worse yet, he knew what he thought. His mind sloshed with self-doubt. What was I thinking when I took this job? It's all my fault. The voices – he heard them all. And you probably have, too.

When you lost your job, flunked the exam, or dropped out of school. When your marriage went south, or when your business went broke. When you failed. The voices began to howl – like hyenas in a cage, they were laughing at you. You heard them. And you joined them. You disqualified yourself, berated yourself, upbraided yourself. You sentenced yourself to a life of hard labor in the Leavenworth of poor self-worth. Failure finds us all.

Failure is so universal that it leaves you wondering why more self-help gurus don't address it. Bookstores overflow with volumes on how to succeed, but you'll look a long time before you find a section called "How to Succeed at Failing." Maybe no one knows what to say. But God does. His book is written for failures. It’s full of folks who were foul-ups and flops. David was a moral failure, yet God used him. Elijah was an emotional train wreck after Mount Carmel, but God blessed him. Jonah was in the belly of a fish when he prayed his most honest prayer, and God heard it. Perfect people? No. Perfect messes? Absolutely. Yet God used them all.

A surprising and welcome discovery of the Bible is this: God uses failures. God used Joshua's failure to show us what to do with our own. God quickly and urgently called Joshua to get on with life. "Get up! Why are you lying on your face?" (Josh. 7:10) "Do not be afraid, nor be dismayed; take all the people of war with you, and arise, go up to Ai." (8:1) Failure’s like quicksand – take immediate action or you'll get sucked under. But one stumble doesn’t define or break a person. Though you failed, God's love doesn’t. Face your failures with faith in God's goodness because he saw the collapse coming and loves you anyway.

When you stood on the eastern side of your Jordan, God could see the upcoming mishap of your Ai. Still, he tells you what he told Joshua: "Arise, go . . . , you and all these people, to the land which I am giving." (1:2) There’s no condition in that covenant. There’s no fine print. There’s no performance language. God's offer doesn’t depend on your perfection. It depends on his. In God's hands no defeat is a crushing defeat. "The steps of good men are directed by the Lord. He delights in each step they take. If they fall, it isn't fatal, for the Lord holds them with his hand." (Ps. 37:23-24)

You must believe that God's grace is greater than your failures. Pitch your tent on promises like this one: "There is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus . . . who do not walk according to the flesh but according to the Spirit." (Rom. 8:1, 4) Everyone stumbles. The difference is your response. Some stumble into the pit of guilt; others tumble into the arms of God. Those who find grace do so because they "walk according … to the Spirit." (Id.) They hear God's voice. They make a deliberate decision to stand up and lean into God's grace. As God told Joshua, "Do not be afraid, nor . . . dismayed; . . . arise, go . . . ." The prodigal son did that. He resolved, "I will arise and go to my father." (Luke 15:18) Remember his story?

Just like you, he was given an inheritance; he was a member of the family. Perhaps just like you, he squandered it on wild living and bad choices. He lost every penny. His trail dead-ended in a pigpen. He fed hogs for a living. One day he was so hungry that the slop smelled like sirloin. He was just about to dig in when something within him awoke. Wait a second. What am I doing wallowing in the mud, rubbing shoulders with the pigs? And remember, he was a Jewish boy, and pigs were unclean whether alive or served as strips of bacon. But then he made a decision that changed his life forever. "I will arise and go to my father." You can do that, too.

Perhaps you can't solve all your problems or disentangle all your knots. You can't undo all the damage you've done. But you can arise and go to your Father. Landing in a pigpen stinks but staying there is just stupid. Rise up and step out. There’s no future in the past. You can't change yesterday, but you can do something about tomorrow. Put God's plan in place. In fact, God told Joshua to revisit the place of his failure. "Arise, go up to Ai. See, I have given into your hand the king of Ai, his people, his city, and his land." (Josh. 8:1) In essence, God told Joshua, "Okay, let's do this again, but this time let’s do it my way." Joshua didn't have to be told twice.

He and his men made an early morning march from Gilgal to Ai, a distance of about fifteen miles. He positioned a crack commando unit behind the town. Behind this contingent was a corps of five thousand men. (Josh. 8:12) Joshua then took another company of soldiers and they headed in the direction of the city. The plan was straight out of Military Tactics 101. Joshua would attack, then retreat, luring the soldiers of Ai away from their village. And it worked. The king of Ai, still strutting from victory number one, set out for victory number two. He marched towards Joshua, leaving the town unprotected. The elite squad charged in and set fire to the city while Joshua reversed course, effectively catching the army of Ai in the middle. The victory was complete.

Contrast this attack with the first one. In the first, Joshua consulted spies. In the second, he listened to God. In the first, he stayed home. In the second, he led the way. The first attack involved a small unit. His second involved many more men. The first attack involved no tactics. His second was strategic and sophisticated. The point? God gave Joshua a new plan: try it again, but this time do it my way. When he followed God's strategy, victory happened. Peter, too, discovered the wonder of God's second chance.

One day Jesus used his boat as a platform. The crowd on the beach was so great that Jesus needed a buffer. So, he preached from Peter's boat. Then he told Peter to take him fishing. The apostle-to-be had no interest whatsoever. He was tired; he had fished all night. He was discouraged; he’d caught nothing. He was dubious. What did Jesus know about catching fish, anyway? Peter was self-conscious, too. People packed the beach and who wants to fail in public in broad daylight? But Jesus insisted, and Peter relented. "At your word I will let down the net." (Luke 5:5) This was a decisive moment for Peter. He was saying, "I will try it again, your way." And when he did, the catch was so great that the boat almost sank. Sometimes we just need to try again, this time with Christ in the boat and not some distant figure on a faraway shore. Failures are fatal only if we fail to learn from them. In other words, don't spend another minute in the pigpen. It's time to rise up. Don't waste your failures by failing to learn from them. It's time to wise up. God has not forgotten you. Keep your head up because you never know what good awaits you.

Scott Norwood’s thoughts of the missed kick wouldn’t leave him. He couldn't sleep, and he was still upset when the team returned to Buffalo. In spite of the loss the city hosted a parade to honor the team. The turnout was huge. Norwood took his place on the platform with the other players, but lingered in the background, hidden way behind the others. In the middle of a civic leader's speech, a chant began: "We want Scott." "We want Scott!" The chant grew in volume and intensity until the speaker had to stop. Norwood's teammates pushed him to the front of the stage, and when the fans saw Scott, they gave him a rousing ovation. Yes, he’d missed the kick, but they wanted to make sure that he knew he was still a part of their community.

The Bible says that we’re surrounded by a great cloud of witnesses. (Heb. 12:1) Thousands upon thousands of saved saints are looking down on us. Peter. David. Paul . . . even Joshua. Your grandma, uncle or coach. They've seen God's great grace, and they’re pulling for you. Press your ear against the curtain of eternity and listen. They’re chanting your name. They’re pulling for you to keep going. You may have missed a goal, but you're still a part of God's team because all things work together for good. (Rom. 8:28) Even the failures.

Grace,

Randy