Main Idea: The most courageous risk we can take is to identify with Jesus at the Cross.

"At noon, darkness fell across the whole land until three o’clock. Then at three o’clock Jesus called out with a loud voice, "Eloi, Eloi, lema sabachthani?" which means "My God, my God, why have you abandoned me?" …Then Jesus uttered another loud cry and breathed his last…When the Roman officer who stood facing him saw how he had died, he exclaimed, "This man truly was the Son of God!"

"Some women were there, watching from a distance…They had been followers of Jesus and had cared for him while he was in Galilee. Many other women who had come with him to Jerusalem were also there. This all happened on Friday, the day of preparation, the day before the Sabbath. As evening approached, Joseph of Arimathea took a risk and went to Pilate and asked for Jesus’ body. (Joseph was an honored member of the high council, and he was waiting for the Kingdom of God to come.) Pilate couldn’t believe that Jesus was already dead, so he called for the Roman officer and asked if he had died yet. The officer confirmed that Jesus was dead, so Pilate told Joseph he could have the body. Joseph bought a long sheet of linen cloth. Then he took Jesus’ body down from the cross, wrapped it in the cloth, and laid it in a tomb that had been carved out of the rock. Then he rolled a stone in front of the entrance. Mary Magdalene and Mary the mother of Joseph saw where Jesus’ body was laid." (Mark 15: 33-34, 37-47)

The account of Jesus’ crucifixion as portrayed by Mark is as gloomy as the darkness that covered the land until late afternoon. Jesus came to the cross in utter loneliness, betrayed, deserted and denied by his followers. He was rejected by his own people, who cried out for his death. After being mocked, beaten and spat upon. Jesus faced a horribly painful death alone, isolated from all humanity. There are some faithful women who watch from a distance. Other than the voices of derision, there is only his aching question of despair and abandonment. Evil engulfed Jesus on the cross. All the torrents of human sin fell upon him, leaving him swimming in a vortex of the twisted crimes of the human race. It would seem to any who looked upon this scene of torture, blood and pain that all his words of hope had vanished into nothingness. There is one voice that seems to pierce the pitiful drama being played out. It came from a soldier, a centurion, who declared, "This man truly was the Son of God." Seemingly something that was seen penetrated the hard experience of battle and out of death sprang one small evidence of life.

As the afternoon began to pass quickly toward evening, Jesus’ body hung limp and lifeless on the cross. A Jew named Joseph from a small village north of Jerusalem called Arimathea who had watched all that had been done to Jesus. He was a member of the very council that had consigned Jesus to death. He didn’t vote to kill him; he just didn’t say "no." John’s Gospel calls him a "secret disciple for fear of the Jews." At some point in the last three years he moved from being intrigued by Jesus’ words to claiming him as his Messiah. His problem was he just couldn’t tell anyone. For someone like him, there was just too much to lose. He could lose his position, his respect, his wealth and even his life if he dared to openly identify with Jesus.

Now, though, something was different. As he had watched Jesus crucified he saw things that had never been seen. He heard things that had never been heard. He felt things that had never been felt. Somewhere deep within him he believed things that he had never believed before. His guilt and his silence began screaming in his soul and he could no longer live in the shadows. No longer could he keep his identity with Jesus a secret. He had failed to claim him in his life; at least now that it was over he would claim his body in his death. Jewish law prohibited allowing a crucified Jew to be left on a cross past sunset. It was the only thing he could think of to do so he made up his mind to do something. So he took, Mark says, "a risk" and asked Pilate if he could have the body.

That little word "risk" is fascinating. It originally meant "to lift or carry." Then it meant "to endure or to suffer." That evolved into the idea of "to dare," which became "to be courageous" and finally "to be bold." The way Mark uses it describes action that is more of a process than just an event. It is a portrayal of Joseph seeing all he saw, feeling all he felt, knowing something must be done and choosing to "risk," to be courageous enough, bold enough to identify with the dead body of Jesus at the cross. He could be identified as a supporter of treason but it didn’t matter. He could be crucified himself but it didn’t matter. He could lose everything but it didn’t matter. He could no longer live in the shadows. He failed to identify with his life at least he would claim him at his death.

After securing permission from Pilate, he secures the body of Jesus, wrapping it in a linen cloth that he had bought. He sees that the body is carried to a cave a short distance away. He knew the way because the tomb was one he had just purchased as his own. The body was tenderly laid in the tomb. While he had hurriedly washed the body, he could see the crimson blood seeping through the cloth staining the white linen sheet. Then he made sure the tomb was secure by having the massive stone rolled over the entrance. As he left he saw two women weeping and watching. The first star of the night was appearing in the eastern sky. The law had been kept and at last he could live with himself because he finally had done what he could not do before; he "took a risk" and identified with Jesus at the cross.

Just like Joseph, the most courageous risk we can take is to identify with Jesus at the cross. It would seem that in our safe culturally religious Jonesboro, Arkansas, that there is little that we could risk by saying we are a Christian. Being Christian is sort of just part of our "thing" here in the south. Even if a person doesn’t go to church now, most—not all—were raised in church. Their "momma" or "daddy" or "grandma" or "papaw" made sure they were there "every time the doors were open." So saying you are a Christian is about like saying you eat cornbread. I mean how many country songs have something about "church" in them? They say they know Jesus, cry at Christmas and Easter, try to help people when they can and go to church when they can cause they want the kids at least to know the Bible. So, what’s the risk?

I didn’t say that our most courageous risk was to say we are Christian. I said our most courageous risk was to identify with Jesus at the cross. You can talk about church and never mention the cross; some do it all the time. You can talk about Jesus and never mention the cross; some do it all the time. You can talk about being Christian and never mention the cross; some do it all the time. But if you want to take a risk and run the chance of offending the comfortable Christian climate, then you dare to identify with, as Jurgon Moltman called "the crucified God." He said, "The crucified Christ himself is a challenge to Christian theology and the Christian church, which dare to call themselves by his name." (The Crucified God, Jurgon Moltman, p. 3) In plain terms: If you want to upset people who are comfortable with just being Christian, then you dare to risk talking about the cross.

Why is that true? It is true because of what the cross accomplished for us individually. The Bible teaches that the cross was the only way people could be placed in a right relationship with God. Paul said that God "cancelled the record of the charges against us and took it away, nailing it to the cross" (Col. 2:14). The nails that pierced Jesus’ hands and feet, fixing them to the cross, held our sins there as well. The cross confesses that the sins of all humanity are paid for in the death of Jesus, God’s Son and our Savior. The risk comes for us when we dare to accept that as true in a culture that doesn’t want to believe that. Talk all you want about Jesus’ love and his concern for the poor and broken masses but dare to say that the cross is the only way people can be reconciled to God and you will meet resistance. You haven’t identified with the cross until you have come out of the shadows of cultural Christianity and owned that before others. It’s a risk.

It is also true because of what the cross achieves for us relationally. The Bible teaches that the cross is the only way people are placed in a right relationship with other people. Paul said, "Christ reconciled both groups to God by means of his death on the cross, and our hostility toward each other was put to death" (Eph. 2:16). The death that Jesus died removed the walls and barriers that humans raise against one another, making it possible to live not only in peace with God but in peace with each other. It means that when two human beings accept the cross individually then it creates the opportunity to accept one another personally. Why is this a risk? It is a risk because it is not what people want to do. We can create dialogues with people all we want and they are good, necessary and must always be what believers do to seek to understand other people. Yet the only way two human beings can ever be at peace is when they have both identified with the cross. Doing that, saying that, believing that is a risk.

It is at last true because of what the cross does for us to identify us in our culture. The Bible teaches that the cross is the only way believers are recognized as followers of Jesus. Paul said, "As for me, may I never boast about anything except the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ. Because of that cross, my interest in this world has been crucified and the world’s interest in me has also died" (Gal. 6:14). Jesus would declare that those who followed him would carry their own cross. In other words, they would be known as people who have chosen him as all that ultimately matters. Why is this a risk? Because it isn’t what people want to hear. People, especially Christians, want to have both an attachment to Jesus and to the world around them. The cross won’t allow that. It is either one or the other. If you decide that you will openly identify with the cross then that will say something about your claims on all that is around you and that, my friends, is a risk.

Something about the cross, something about what he saw, heard and felt that late Friday afternoon drew Joseph out of the secret security of silence into the daring, risky step of identifying with Jesus. It was "a risk." Just let me ask you: when are you going to step out of the shadows and risk, dare, boldly courageous identify with the cross of Jesus? It’s a risk because you could lose some or all of the things that have made you comfortable. It’s just a question of how much longer you can live with the gnawing, haunting guilt of seeing him alone on a cross while you live pretending it never happened at all. The most courageous risk we can take is to identify with Jesus at the cross. Are you ready to take "a risk"?

Sunday, March 16, 2008

Dr. Bruce Tippit, Pastor

First Baptist Church

Jonesboro, Arkansas

btippit@fbcjonesboro.org