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PARADOXES OF FAITH #3/3

Posted by: bhfbc <bhfbc@...>

PARADOXES OF FAITH #3/3
THE PARADOX OF LIFE
September 8, 2002

Text: Mark 8:34-9:1

John 3:16 has been called for many years the "gospel in miniature."
Rightfully so, for it embodies all of the wonderful love of God for us:
God's love for the world; the giving of His only begotten Son; the gift
of life given to us.

In like manner, we could call these passages from the book of Mark
“discipleship in miniature,” for they embody in a little space the entire
concept of the meaning of the follower's devotion for the Lord Jesus
Christ. Dr. William Barclay wrote in his commentary that "when we come to
this part of Mark’s gospel we are so near the heart and centre of the
Christian faith that we must take it almost sentence by sentence. If each
day a man could go out with only one of these sentences locked in his
heart and dominating his life, it would be far more than enough to be
going on with." (Barclay, The Gospel of Mark, p. 206)

Beginning with the 34th verse, we can begin to understand why Jesus had
to be so severe with Peter in the verse before. After pointing out to
Peter that he had in mind “the things of men,” Jesus went on to enlighten
his disciples and the crowd around them about what makes up “the things
of God.”

“If anyone would come after me, he must deny himself and take up his
cross and follow me.” Here, in one of the greatest declarations of Jesus,
are two of the hardest words that a person can ever face - deny and
cross. The word “deny” is appallingly stark and clear. It leaves nothing
to the imagination. It means “to make yourself a complete stranger.” On
that terrifying evening when Peter denied Christ, he made himself a
complete stranger to Christ. Likewise, when Jesus says to deny yourself,
he means to make yourself a complete stranger to yourself.

Denying ourselves means far more than refusing to give things to
ourselves. Self-denial, in a common use of the term, is often turned into
meaning an abstinence from certain luxuries and delights. It can be this,
but used this way exclusively, it leaves us ripe for a self-righteous
backfire as we succumb to the temptation of applauding our own
self-control and generosity, making spiritual “Little Jack Horners” out
of ourselves, whispering, “What a good boy or girl I am!”

Denial of self as Jesus spoke about it is much deeper. It is the making
of ourselves not an end, but a means, in the kingdom of God. It is
subordinating the clamoring ego, with its shrill claim for priority; its
preoccupation with “I,” “me,” and “mine;” its concern for self-assertion;
its insistence on comfort and prestige; denying self, not for the sake of
denial as a sort of moral athletics, but for Christ's sake - for the sake
of putting the self completely in submission to his cause.

This would seem to be contradictory to the messages found in some of
modern psychology. We hear and read that the need to “be ourselves.” We
are led to believe that we need to “take care of number one.” The
generations of this era have been given the label of “me first.” Surely
the message of self-denial doesn't fit in here.

But modern psychology also reveals to us that in order to mature in a
healthy manner, we also need to subject ourselves to a “common good” - to
find adequate role models, so to speak. In this regard, the message of
Christ fits in perfectly. For when Christ says to deny yourself, he
instructs that we are to replace ourselves with him. To speak in
idealistic terms, Jesus is to become such a role model for us that we
identify completely with him.

But is this healthy? Won't it take away from my being? Won't it make me
an unauthentic and unreal person? H. A. Williams wrote in his book
Tensions: “There is within me a me which is both greater than me and at
the same time authentically myself. One way of approaching this
mysterious fact would be by what is called the paradox of grace. The more
God gives me his grace (that is, Himself), the more I am myself. The more
I discover within me the greater me the more I discover that that greater
than me is authentically me.” We can identify this closely with Jesus -
to become more and more Christlike - only as we deny ourselves like Jesus
instructs.

The word “cross” is also a difficult word to face. It is one of the most
misused words in the whole of Christian vocabulary. The name of “cross”
has been given to many things that are not a cross at all in the truly
Christian sense of the word. We speak, for example, of a calamity as a
cross which we must bear. But a calamity, as tragic as it might be, is
not a cross. We speak of sorrow or loss as a cross. They are heavy
burdens, but not necessarily a cross. We even speak of our own
shortcomings of temperament and disposition - our uncontrolled anger, our
undue sensitivities, our impatience - as a cross we must carry. We can
even grow quite pious about it. But “taking up a cross” is NOT simply
enduring bravely whatever happens to us. There is great virtue in doing
so, but Christianity is more and other than the modern bravery and
stoicism into which the cross is frequently distorted.

The cross for Jesus was his deliberate choice of giving his life as a
ransom for many, his deliberate choice of ministering to humanity's need
of the truth about God, to their need of love, cost what it might. Taking
up a cross for the disciple means the deliberate, proactive choice of
something that could be evaded, to take up a burden which we are under no
compulsion to take up, except the compulsion of God’s love in Christ. It
means the choice of taking upon ourselves the burdens of other lives, of
putting ourselves without reservation at the service of Christ in
preparing a way for the kingdom of God, of putting ourselves in the
struggle against evil, whatever the cost.

This is the way that Christ leads; it is the way we are to follow. Jesus
asks nothing of us, no matter how hard, that he has not done. There was
once a famous Roman general, Quintus Fabius Cunctator. He was discussing
with his staff how to take a difficult position. Someone suggested one
course of action: “It will only cost the lives of a few men,” this
commander said. Fabius looked at him. “Are you,” he asked, “willing to be
one of the few?” Jesus is not the kind of leader who sits remote and
plays with our lives like expendable pawns. What he demands us to face,
he has already faced. Jesus has a right to call on us to take up a cross,
for he has born the first one.

And what shall we find when we deny ourselves and take up this cross? We
shall find a supreme paradox - the greatest of all paradoxes: the paradox
of life. “For whoever wants to save his life will lose it, but whoever
loses his life for me and for the gospel will save it.” History is full
of the records of men and women who, by throwing away their lives, gained
life eternal. There is a movie called The Mission. I recommend it highly.
Set in South America in the late 1700s, it depicts some of the struggles
between the colonizing countries of Spain and Portugal. In the midst of
this international, colonial power struggle is a small band of Jesuit
missionaries who have miraculously converted a significant group of the
normally aggressive native Indians.

In the missions, the Jesuits and the Indians live a life in service to
each other and in service to God. The depth of their spirituality and
worship is awesome. Yet, they are looked upon with contempt by the local
governors of Spain and Portugal. A cardinal, a dignitary of the Church,
is sent from Rome to settle the boundary dispute between the colonizing
nations. His decision will have a lasting impact upon the mission. To
decide one way will mean continued protection for the mission; to decide
the other way will mean its destruction by the local Spanish and
Portuguese powers.

Complicating the cardinal’s decision is further political considerations
elsewhere. A decision in favor of the Jesuits in the Americas meant
likely revolt of some of the European monarchs against the Catholic
church and against other Jesuits. The pre-arranged task of the cardinal
was to “sacrifice the limb in order to save the body.” The decision was
made; the deed was done. Because of their refusal to leave their beloved
missions, the Jesuit priests and their followers were put to death by the
occupying army. The cardinal wrote to the Pope: “And so, Your Holiness,
the limb is sacrificed. Yet, not all is well. Even though I live, I feel
as though it is I who have died. And even though the priests of the
mission have been put to death, it is they who live on.”

God has given us life to spend and not to keep. If we live carefully,
guarding life, always thinking first of our own profit, ease, comfort,
security; if our sole aim is to make life as long and as trouble-free as
possible, if we will make no effort except for ourselves, we are losing
life all the time. It slips through our fingers even as we tighten our
grip in desperation.

But if we spend life for others, if we forget health and time and wealth
and comfort in our desire to do something for Jesus and for the men and
women for whom Jesus died, then we are winning life all the time. What
would have happened to the world if doctors and scientists and inventors
had not been prepared to risk experiments often on their own bodies? What
would have happened to life if everyone had wished for nothing but to
remain comfortably at home, and there had been no such person as an
explorer or pioneer? What would happen if every woman refuses to take the
risk of bearing a child? What would happen if there were no Pauls or
Peters or Johns or Judsons to proclaim the Gospel in the face of prisons
and beatings?

The very essence of life is in risking life and spending life, not in
saving it or hoarding it. True, it is the way of weariness, of
exhaustion, of giving to the uttermost - but it is better any day to burn
out than rust out; it is better any day to fail at ministry than to never
attempt ministry; it is better any day to give up the whole world - even
to lose life - than to forfeit the soul. This is the way of discipleship;
this is the way of service; this is the way of Christ.

Jesus ended his lesson that day with a promise to those who were gathered
around him: “I tell you the truth, some who are standing here will not
taste death before they see the kingdom of God come with power.” There
has been some confusion about this promise over the span of Christianity.
One of the biggest worries has been that Jesus was speaking of his Second
Coming. If that was what he spoke of, then he was wrong. But it is not a
reference to the Second Coming at all.

A key of understanding is found, I believe, in the term “power.” The
definition of power as used by Jesus and his disciples is much the same
as our contemporary definition: strength, might, the ability to carry out
an action. But the manifestation of God's power is often something quite
different to our expectations. Consider Paul's reflections in 1
Corinthians 1: “For the message of the cross is foolishness to those who
are perishing, but to us who are being saved it is the power of God...
For the foolishness of God is wiser than man's wisdom, and the weakness
of God is stronger than man's strength... But God chose the foolish
things of the world to shame the wise; God chose the weak things of the
world to shame the strong.” (vss. 18, 25, 27)

So commentators offer these explanations: Jesus referred to the
crucifixion, the resurrection, or the spread of Christianity during the
persecution. Maybe he meant all of them, who knows? Surely they fit,
because whoever saw Jesus' broken body hanging in agony upon the evil
cross saw the power of God; whoever saw the glorified body of the risen
Christ saw the power of God; whoever witnessed the persecution of the
apostolic church and its phenomenal spread and growth witnessed the power
of God. Whatever meaning is applied here, it tells me this about Jesus:
even in the face of impending suffering and death, he still proclaimed
God as complete and totally powerful and victorious. His promise to those
on that day was that “you cannot be defeated by this world, for your
lives are mine and mine alone.”

The promise of Jesus on that day is also his promise to us in our day. It
is present tense as well as past tense: “some who are standing (or
sitting) here will not taste death before they see the kingdom of God
come with power.” His promise is just as true in the present tense as it
was in the past because as soon as we deny ourselves, we begin to see the
kingdom of God come with power; as soon as we take up the cross, we begin
to see the kingdom of God come with power; as soon as we follow Jesus the
Christ, we begin to see the kingdom of God come with power.

As soon as we take that first step of opening the door of our heart to
let Jesus come in, we begin to understand the meaning of the paradox of
life. There is no other way to have life than to die to ourselves and be
raised up in Christ. As we prepare to sing this morning #440 “’Tis So
Sweet to Trust in Jesus,” let this be a time of invitation. If you choose
to trust Jesus Christ with your life; if you choose to renew your faith
with Him who has given you life, then won't you share your decision by
coming forward and joining me before this body of Christ?

Rev. Charles A. Layne, pastor, First Baptist Church, Bunker Hill, IN

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