The Gospel Unchained, Part 11: Fight to the Finish (2 Timothy 4:1-8)

The Battle of Gettysburg was the bloodiest conflict of the Civil War. Nearly 7,800 people were killed, 27,000 were wounded, and 11,000 were captured or went missing. The North defeated the South in that 3-day battle. Had they not done so, it’s likely that today the United States would not be united. In fact, most historians regard Gettysburg as the turning point of the war. 

One of the heroes to come out of that battle was Joshua Chamberlain, a professor of theology and rhetoric at Bowdoin College in Maine. On July 2, 1863, the second day of battle Col. Chamberlain defended the left flank of the Union on a hill called Little Round Top. Had he failed to hold that position, the Union line would have collapsed, the battle would have been lost, and the Confederates would have marched on Washington and overtaken the White House. 

But Chamberlain and his men from the 20th Maine held firm. With great courage and tenacity, they repelled wave after wave of attack late into the afternoon. Even after his men ran out of ammunition, Chamberlain refused to retreat. Instead, he ordered that famous bayonet charge down the hill, which put the Confederates to flight and ended their plans to penetrate the Union line.

What’s not so famous, however, is a crisis that Chamberlain faced just two days before the Little Round Top incident. Chamberlain inherited 120 insurgents from the 2nd Maine. That regiment had folded because there were so many casualties in it. Naturally, the survivors assumed that when their unit ended, their term of service had ended, too. But not so, according to the military brass. They had to be re-assigned. Understandably, the men of the 2nd Maine were furious, so they dropped their muskets, and they refused to fight. 

They had seen enough war. They had seen enough death. And some of them were wounded themselves. They were emotionally drained; and they just wanted to go home. But they were rounded up like cattle and marched at gunpoint over to the 20th Maine. Now, put yourself in Col. Chamberlain’s boots for a moment. You’re preparing for your next campaign just north of where you are now, when suddenly, 120 grumpy, burned-out insurrectionists are dropped into your lap. What are you going to do with them? How are you going to get them on board? 

How do you motivate a group of wounded and weary soldiers to keep fighting the good fight? Chamberlain gets them on board with a speech—a stirring exhortation that is almost as powerful as the Gettysburg Address itself. After promising not to shoot the insurgents—which he had every right to do—Chamberlain talks to them with respect. In short, He reminded them that their purpose far outweighed their pain, and their prize far outweighed their price.

When it comes to Christian service, that’s a message believers need to be reminded of on a regular basis because ministry can be hard. Kingdom work is exhausting. Volunteer ministry can sometimes be discouraging, dispiriting, or disillusioning. Certainly, there are moments of great joy and celebration, but Christian service has a way of wringing us out like a wet dish rag. Paul’s burden in 2 Timothy is to light a fire under his young protégé to fight like a good soldier and keep fighting, even when the battle gets fierce. To that end, Paul tells Timothy—and he tells believers today—to press on in view of both the pain and the payoff. In short, he says fight to the finish, and receive your crown from Christ.

Paul, the old war horse, now in chains, sitting in the shadow of execution, just weeks away from martyrdom—what’s he concerned about? What’s foremost on his mind? The continued sharing of the gospel after he’s gone. It’s no time to go AWOL on the gospel, says Paul. He tells God’s people to fight well as a service to Christ (4:1-5), and finish well as a sacrifice to Christ (4:6-8). Just as he did.

Sermon Resources:

Contact This New Life directly for the sermon audio file.

Shadows of the Cross, Part 6: The Passover Lamb (Exodus 12:1-14)

In preparing his people for their exodus from Egypt, God instructed the Israelites to sacrifice an unblemished lamb and then apply some of its blood to the tops and sides of their doorframes. God told them, “On that same night I will pass through Egypt and strike down every firstborn—both men and animals—and I will bring judgment on all the gods of Egypt. I am the Lord. The blood will be a sign for you on the houses where you are; and when I see the blood, I will pass over you. No destructive plague will touch you when I strike Egypt” (Exod 12:12-13). 

Those who applied the blood to their homes were spared divine judgment and free to leave for the Promised Land the next day. God’s dramatic rescue of his people from Egypt was the preeminent act of salvation in the Old Testament, and he had several intentions in the original Passover event: to be faithful to his covenant; to expose the false gods of Egypt; to judge the wickedness and injustice of Pharaoh; to protect his people and deliver them from slavery; and to memorialize his saving power, providing hope for future generations who would keep his covenant.

The entire Passover ceremony centered on a lamb—a very specific lamb that had to meet specific requirements. For example, it had to be: a lamb that is male; a lamb in its prime; a lamb thoroughly examined; a lamb without blemish; a lamb without broken bones; a lamb slain and roasted; a lamb sacrificed by all; a lamb offered at twilight; and lamb that served as a substitute—dying so that others might live. Moreover, all of it had to be eaten family-by-family, such that every time a household walked out of Egypt the next day, a complete lamb “inside them” came out, too. Upon their great deliverance, their calendar started all over again. In essence they got a new beginning in life: “This month is to be for you the first month, the first month of your year” (Exod 12:2).

It was John the Baptist who saw Jesus by the banks of the Jordan River and said, “Look, the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world!” (John 1:29). The Apostle Paul wrote, “Christ, our Passover lamb, has been sacrificed” (1 Corinthians 5:7b). The Apostle Peter wrote, “You know that it was not with perishable things such as silver or gold that you were redeemed from the empty way of life handed down to you from your forefathers, but with the precious blood of Christ, a lamb without blemish or defect” (1 Peter 1:18-19). Jesus is the new and greater Lamb for the new and greater Exodus—the exodus from slavery to sin. Indeed, Christ meets all the requirements of the Passover Lamb. He is:

  • The Lamb who is male
  • The Lamb in his prime
  • The Lamb thoroughly examined
  • The Lamb without blemish
  • The Lamb without broken bones
  • The Lamb slain and roasted
  • The Lamb sacrificed by all
  • The Lamb offered at twilight

Applying his blood by faith to the doorposts of our lives now gives a new calendar, beginning, a new life. And every time a church family walks out of a Eucharistic service, there’s one complete Lamb “inside them” that comes out with them. On the night before his crucifixion, Jesus said to his disciples, “I have eagerly desired to eat this Passover with you before I suffer” (Luke 22:14-20). He then gave his followers the broken bread of his body, and the poured out wine of his blood. He knew at that moment what believers would eventually come to learn, that God’s judgment passes over believers because it fell on his Son. Jesus was totally consumed by his love for his Father and his love for his people. 

The Exodus 12 passage contains an interesting progression. It refers to “…a lamb…” (vv. 3-4a), “…thelamb…” (v. 4b); and “…your lamb…” (v. 5). Perhaps you’ve recognized that Jesus is a Lamb. Great. Maybe you’ve even recognized that Jesus is the Lamb. Even better. But have you ever made him your Lamb by faith? That’s why he came—to be your exodus from bondage to sin. Receive him today by faith, and you will get a brand new start to a whole new life (John 3:3).

Sermon Resources:

Contact This New Life directly for the sermon audio file.

Shadows of the Cross, Part 5: The Crushed Servant (Isaiah 52:13-53:12)

The Servant Song in Isaiah 53 was written 700 years before Jesus came, yet it reads like someone composed it while standing at the foot of the cross on Good Friday. But it was a prophetic prediction, not a historical reflection. Kyle Yates, an Old Testament Professor, has called this passage “the Mt. Everest of Old Testament prophecy.” Charles Spurgeon, the famous 19th-century Baptist preacher called it “a Bible in miniature, the gospel in its essence.” Franz Delitzsch, an Old Testament scholar and commentator called it “the deepest, and the loftiest thing that…Old Testament prophecy…has ever achieved.” That’s high praise for a single passage of Scripture.

Structurally, the passage is a song or a poem of five stanzas with three verses each. Each stanza gets a little longer than the previous one, serving to heighten the dramatic impact of each as they build upon the previous one. Of whom does the prophet speak? Whoever it is, this “Servant of the Lord” experiences deep lows as well as lofty highs. He appears more ordinary than spectacular—even gruesome at one point. He is willing to sacrifice much for the sake of love. Indeed, the Servant of the Lord looks beyond the injustice of this world to the justice of God. And he maintains hope in the midst of it all by clinging to divine sovereignty in hardship. A simple walk through the text paints a portrait of this Servant and what he accomplishes:

  • He appeared to be totally insignificant. (1)
  • He appeared to be physically unimpressive. (2)
  • He appeared to be spiritually reprehensible. (3)
  • He bore our sickness and sorrows. (4)
  • He bore our piercings and punishment. (5)
  • He bore our lostness and lawlessness. (6)
  • His submission was total. (7)
  • His death was violent. (8)
  • His burial was notorious. (9)
  • He is crushed by God but is then vindicated by God. (10)
  • He suffers internally but is then satisfied by justifying many. (11)
  • He dies among the wicked but is then generous in sharing his victory. (12)

The central verse of the composition is v. 5, and it summarizes what the Servant achieves: “But he was wounded for our transgressions. He was bruised for our iniquities. The chastisement of our peace was upon him. And by his stripes we are healed.” That is, he was “pierced through” for our acts of rebellion. He was “pulverized” for our twistedness. The “punishment” that brought us well-being was upon him, and by his “scourgings,” we are healed. In other words, this Servant of the Lord takes our diseases and gives us health. He takes our punishment and gives us joy and freedom. He takes our wounds and gives us healing. In the end, the Servant of the Lord was crushed by sin so that crushed sinners could become servants of the Lord. That’s good news for us, but what about the poor Servant? Fortunately, he is eventually vindicated, too (Isa 53:10-12).

The early church applied this prophecy to Jesus (Acts 8:30-34). That’s because Jesus applied it to himself: “I am among you as one who serves. . . . It is written: ‘And he was numbered with the transgressors’; and I tell you that this must be fulfilled in me. Yes, what is written about me is reaching its fulfillment” (Luke 22:27, 37). On the night before his execution, Jesus was thinking about Isaiah 53 and applying it to his own ordeal and mission. He was saying, “Tomorrow on the cross, I will look totally insignificant, unimpressive, reprehensible—a bloody mess! But it’s all according to plan. It’s all for your benefit.” In that awful rock opera Jesus Christ Superstar, when Pilate meets Jesus for the first time, he says:

Oh, so this is Jesus Christ
I am really quite surprised 
You look so small 
Not a king at all

The rap on Jesus was this: “We know who you are and where you come from. You’re the carpenter’s son. We changed your diapers. We wiped your nose. You’re nothing special.” But this is the wisdom of God. As Bill Lane has said, “Their eyes could not penetrate the veil of ordinariness around them.” Do you know this Servant of the Lord by faith as your Savior and highest treasure in life? Have you ever trusted him—Jesus Christ—for your eternal salvation? Will you be one of “the many” referred to in v. 11 whom God will declare “not guilty”? Believe him. Receive him. Love him. Follow him. He was crushed for you.

Sermon Resources:

Contact This New Life directly for the sermon audio file.

Shadows of the Cross, Part 4: The Scarlet Worm (Psalm 22)

Some of us have had the occasion of ministering to friends and relatives when they took their last breath. We stand by their beds as death approaches, and we usher them into eternity. But how do we do that? If the person is a Christ follower, we often quote the Scriptures to them and sing their favorite hymns. When my father-in-law died, the whole family was gathered around his bed, and we were singing “Victory in Jesus” when he passed away. In fact, he died right at the moment we sang, “I heard about a mansion he has built for me in glory. And I heard about the streets of gold beyond the crystal sea.” 
 
When my mother lay dying, we were singing “O Holy Night” when she passed away. In fact, she died right as we sang, “For yonder breaks a new and glorious morn. Fall on your knees; O, hear the angel voices.” It’s a sacred and somber moment to be present when a person is reclaimed by the God who gave him. How do you want to be ushered into eternity? Loved ones can sing for me Isaac Watts’ “It Is Well with My Soul,” or Michael Card’s “Emmanuel,” or Fernando Ortega’s “Give Me Jesus.” That one ends with a simple profundity: “And when I come to die, give me Jesus.” Who could ask for anything more?
 
When Jesus is dying on the cross, he ushers himself into eternity with the soundtrack of Psalm 22. The Psalter was Israel’s hymn book, and Jesus quotes the first line of Psalm 22 on Calvary. He may have even said or sung the entire composition from his cross after shouting the opening line. If not, he was certainly summoning the whole song to our thinking, not just its opening words. If I started singing, “My hope is built on nothing less,” many believers’ minds will keep going and supply the rest: “Than Jesus’ blood and righteousness….” If I started singing, “Blessed assurance, Jesus is mine,” many believers’ minds will keep going and supply the rest: “O what a foretaste of glory divine….” Likewise, Jesus gets us started by quoting Psalm 22:1, and the minds of those at the foot of the cross supply the rest. Amazingly, Jesus is still teaching us from the cross.
 
Consequently, it’s important to remember that Psalm 22 is a song of victory in the end. It begins in lament, but it ends in triumph. Moreover, David wrote it, but it’s application far exceeds what he was going through when he composed the lyrics. David was never publicly executed; he died at home, surrounded by his family. Nor did his death result in a mass conversion of peoples around the world as the lyrics go on to say. So, on the face of it, there’s a mystery to Psalm 22 when seen only through the lens of David’s historical situation. How do we solve the mystery? Peter does it for us in Acts 2:30: “[David] was a prophet and…seeing what was ahead, he spoke of…the Christ.” Psalm 22, then, is a shadow of the cross. 
 
Now, David was truly suffering when he wrote Psalm 22. In history he was surrounded by his enemies, and he was reflecting on his pain and anguish, pouring his heart out to God in poetry. As he did so, he was moved by the Holy Spirit to write a song filled with typical Davidic exaggeration (e.g., “My tears have been my food!”). In fact, David’s hyperbole turned out to be Messiah’s reality. One line in the song says, “But I am a worm and not a man, scorned by men and despised by the people” (Ps 22:6). The word “worm” there refers to a creature from which scarlet dye was made. Prophetically, it’s one of the “I AM” statements of Jesus. The Son of Man felt less than a man when tortured by the men he had created. 
 
Despite his ordeal, the suffer says to God, “YOU lay me in the dust of death” (Ps 22:15). It may look like the king’s enemies are killing him, but this king has another perspective: “It is GOD who is sovereign over my dying trial, not my enemies.” Indeed, Jesus overcame the deepest possible trouble with the deepest possible trust. In doing so, he demonstrated that feelings of abandonment by God are not actual abandonments by God. The cross and the empty tomb prove it. As such, the Scarlet Worm shows us how to trust God in our darkest moments. 

Sermon Resources:

Contact This New Life directly for the sermon audio file.

Shadows of the Cross, Part 3: The Yom Kippur Goats (Leviticus 16:1-34)

If a picture is worth a thousand words, then a drama must be worth a thousand books. And a drama from God must be worth an entire library of divine truth. In Old Testament times, God gave Israel seven dramas to perform each year. They were seven “sacred skits” that—when acted out—powerfully illustrated the love, grace, and holiness of God better than any sermon ever could. They were known as the seven feasts of Israel. 

God gave his people seven “dramatizations of doctrine” to instruct them in his ways. They punctuated the calendar of the Jews in order to penetrate the conscience of the Jews. Shakespeare said it well: “The play’s the thing wherein we’ll catch the conscience of the king.” Israel had seven opportunities each year to be “caught” by God—seven high and holy moments that caused Israel to push the pause button on life and “take in a show.” A spiritual show. A liturgical show. A show that highlighted the human condition and God’s provision to remedy that condition.

Weaving together biblical and rabbinic sources, this message looks at the feast or drama known as Yom Kippur (“the Day of Atonement”), the most sacred and somber of all the feasts. The other dramas were marked by great rejoicing, but Yom Kippur was marked by great repentance. The others were marked by great feasting, but Yom Kippur was marked by great fasting. In fact, the ancient rabbis said: “Until you have seen a Day of Atonement, you have never seen sorrow.”

In some ways, Yom Kippur was the most important of all seven. It was the one drama that enabled the people to have great joy and celebration during the other six. That’s why, over time, Yom Kippur simply came to be known as Yoma (“the Day”). The ceremony featured a slaughtered goat and a scapegoat. The former had its blood sprinkled on the ark of the covenant inside the Most Holy Place of the tabernacle/temple. The latter was taken outside the camp and led to its death. Central to the ceremony was the work done by the High Priest, whose emergence from the Most Holy Place alive was the indication that God had accepted his sacrifice, and Israel’s sins could be covered for another year.

Ultimately, Yom Kippur was a foreshadowing of the final atonement made by Jesus Christ on the cross. Indeed, he became the Yom Kippur goats on that first Good Friday. As Jesus is deity in human flesh, we can only rejoice that God does not demand our blood for our sin, he offers his own. After making atonement for humanity’s sin, Jesus, the final High Priest, “sat down” (Hebrews 20:12), something no other high priest could do on Yom Kippur. The atoning work of Jesus is finished forever, and we know God accepted his sacrifice because he came out of his tomb alive.

Sermon Resources:

Contact This New Life directly for the sermon audio file.

Shadows of the Cross, Part 2: The Ram in the Thicket (Genesis 22:1-19)

In watching Jesus carry the wood of the cross to the place of execution, Christians naturally think of the story of Abraham and Isaac in Genesis 22. God said to the patriarch, “Take your son, your only son, Isaac, whom you love, and go to the region of Moriah. Sacrifice him there as a burnt offering on one of the mountains I will tell you about.” Abraham obeyed God, and Isaac quietly carried the wood up the mountain, preparing to be slaughtered by his own father. 

In many ways, the story is disturbing, repugnant, and infuriating. We want to know what it was that drove Abraham up the mountain to take the life of his beloved son. We want to know why Isaac was so passive and compliant in the whole affair. And we want to know why God intervened at the last possible moment, possibly traumatizing Isaac even further. The entire episode is a bit more comprehensible when we understand that covenants often involved the exchange of firstborn sons. But sending Isaac to live in God’s house would necessitate his death. That’s hard to take.

Yet it was precisely because Isaac’s life was on the line that something even more horrendous than child sacrifice was at issue—namely, the possibility that God could be a liar. After all, Isaac was the child of promise, so if he died, God’s trustworthiness would die with him. Isaac has to live—or be resurrected—if all nations of the earth are to be blessed through his line. Abraham knew this, as the New Testament tells us in Hebrews 11:17. Abraham was convinced that God cannot lie, so he raised the knife. Just then an angel of the Lord called out from heaven, “Abraham! Abraham! Do not lay a hand on the boy. Do not do anything to him. Now I know that you revere God, because you have not withheld from me your son, your only son.” Abraham looked up, and there in a thicket was a ram caught by its horns. He took the ram and sacrificed it as a burnt offering in the place of his son. Amazing.

Genesis 22 is a story about the costly sacrifice of a father, the willing submission of a son, and the gracious provision of the Lord. “He will provide,” said Abraham. “The Lord will see to it.” No wonder Jesus said to his contemporaries, “Your father Abraham rejoiced at the thought of seeing my day; he saw it and was glad” (John 8:56). Jesus was now part of a similar story himself, and Abraham had gotten a preview of it. But what did Abraham see when he was standing on Mount Moriah? What did he hear? What did God show him? Did Abraham see the obedient Son of God bearing the wood of the cross to Golgotha—the Son for whom there would be no substitute this time? Perhaps if Abraham had been standing at the foot of the cross and had seen Jesus die right in front of him, he would have looked up to heaven and spoken God’s words back to him: “Lord! Lord! Now I know that you revere me, for you have not withheld from me your Son, your only Son, Jesus, whom you love.”

This message shows how the hardest thing God could ever ask of us is the very thing he did for us—he gave us his only Son.That Son was a descendant of Abraham through Isaac, and all families of the earth are blessed through him. God kept his word. Again. “What, then, shall we say in response to this? If God is for us, who can be against us? He 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?” (Romans 8:31-32). Even more amazing.

Sermon Resources:

Contact This New Life directly for the sermon audio file.

Who Asked for Your Two Cents?

Divine math is different from what we learned in school. That’s a comfort to those of us who sometimes find it hard to reconcile our checkbooks with our bank statement. But what if we totally drained our account one day and had nothing left to reconcile? What’s our net worth then? The answer might surprise us.

Mark records the story of a poor widow who put “two very small copper coins” into the temple treasury (Mark 12:42). Surprisingly, Jesus tells his disciples that she “put in more than all the others.” At first blush it’s an odd statement because all the other people that day had surely given larger amounts than she did. So how was it possible for her tiny gift of “two cents” to be larger than theirs?

the-widow-mite-hands

Jesus said it was because they gave out of their wealth, but she put in all she had to live on. In God’s mind, the size of the sacrifice is more noteworthy than the size of the gift. In other words, the real value of an offering to God is not in the amount given, but in the cost to the giver. How much does it pinch our pocketbooks? How much does it interfere with our unnecessary splurges?

Others at the temple that day gave what they could spare. This poor widow spared nothing. And Jesus took note. But where would her next meal come from? How could she buy flour for bread, or oil for the household lamps? What about new clothes to replace her tattered garments? What about the broken plow in the field?

The real value of an offering to God is not in the amount given, but in the cost to the giver.

By offering all she had to live on, the widow was entrusting herself to God’s care. She was offering herself completely to the One she had come to the temple to worship in the first place. Indeed, for her, devotion to God and his work took priority over everything else.

Still, was it wise for the widow to empty her account? What happens now? Would God provide for her? Would she be able to eke out a living? Would her fellow Israelites—charged in the Torah with being attentive to her needs as a widow—forget about her?

widow-bible-staff

Not to worry. God has a way of taking care of the generous. On one occasion in my younger days, I emptied out our checking account completely because a man told me he had a need. I was an easy touch and quite unaware that he was a professional extortionist. The man preyed on my commitment to Jesus’ words in the Sermon on the Mount, “Give to the one who asks you” (Matt 5:42a).

So I did. I gave him everything I had.

At the time, I thought it was the right thing to do, but it made me nervous. How was I going to pay our bills? How was I going to feed my family? We had two young children at the time, and I was still in seminary. We had obligations all over the place. (With a few more years under my belt now, I would handle the extortionist a bit differently today.)

money-extortion-hands

Shortly after I gave away all our money, a widow in our church (a widow!) came to me and said, “Tim, the Lord is impressing on my heart that I should pay off your student loan. I don’t know what the balance is, and I don’t really care. God has blessed me with resources at this stage in my life, and I just think he wants me to do this for you.”

I was deeply moved. The woman didn’t know I had just emptied my checking account to help somebody else. She was just walking her own journey of faith and trying to follow Christ.

As Providence would have it, the Lord intersected our paths. Amazingly, the balance on my student loan was just about double the amount in my checking account the day I emptied it. Double! God saw fit to take care of our family in a big way the very week I gave away all our money. We rejoiced and celebrated God’s goodness to us.

Document with title student loan forgiveness.

It’s a great story, but honestly, it’s an old one. It’s been a while since I’ve taken such a radical step of faith with my money like that. Maybe that’s the problem. It’s not really my money, is it?

I need to get back to those days when I acted like everything I have belongs to the Lord, because it does—a time when I was willing to fling myself into God’s arms like a toddler jumping from the top step of the living room stairs, knowing for sure daddy will catch him.

It’s time to be openhanded again and watch what God will do. Problem is, we always assume the more we have, the more we can give. That’s only partially true. The widow in Mark 12 shows us the bigger miracle—the more we share, the more we have.

We always assume the more we have, the more we can give. That’s only partially true. The widow in Mark 12 shows us the bigger miracle—the more we share, the more we have.

In the end, God has always wanted my two cents. He wants yours, too. The amazing thing is, we never have to say a word to give it.

open-hand-give

Eternal Word, only begotten Son of God,
Teach me true generosity.
Teach me to serve you as you deserve.
To give without counting the cost,
To fight heedless of wounds,
To labor without seeking rest,
To sacrifice myself without thought of any reward
Save the knowledge that I have done your will.
Amen.

– St. Ignatius of Loyola