The Kingdom Has Come

PASSAGE FOR THE DAY:
26 As the soldiers led him away, they seized Simon from Cyrene, who was on his way in from the country, and put the cross on him and made him carry it behind Jesus. 27 A large number of people followed him, including women who mourned and wailed for him. 28 Jesus turned and said to them, “Daughters of Jerusalem, do not weep for me; weep for yourselves and for your children. 29 For the time will come when you will say, ‘Blessed are the childless women, the wombs that never bore and the breasts that never nursed!’ 30 Then 

“‘they will say to the mountains, “Fall on us!”
and to the hills, “Cover us!”’ 

31 For if people do these things when the tree is green, what will happen when it is dry?”

 

32 Two other men, both criminals, were also led out with him to be executed. 33 When they came to the place called the Skull, they crucified him there, along with the criminals—one on his right, the other on his left. 34 Jesus said, “Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing.” And they divided up his clothes by casting lots.

 

35 The people stood watching, and the rulers even sneered at him. They said, “He saved others; let him save himself if he is God’s Messiah, the Chosen One.”

 

36 The soldiers also came up and mocked him. They offered him wine vinegar 37 and said, “If you are the king of the Jews, save yourself.”

 

38 There was a written notice above him, which read: THIS IS THE KING OF THE JEWS.

 

39 One of the criminals who hung there hurled insults at him: “Aren’t you the Messiah? Save yourself and us!”

 

40 But the other criminal rebuked him. “Don’t you fear God,” he said, “since you are under the same sentence? 41 We are punished justly, for we are getting what our deeds deserve. But this man has done nothing wrong.”

 

42 Then he said, “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.”

 

43 Jesus answered him, “Truly I tell you, today you will be with me in paradise.”

 

44 It was now about noon, and darkness came over the whole land until three in the afternoon, 45 for the sun stopped shining. And the curtain of the temple was torn in two. 46 Jesus called out with a loud voice, “Father, into your hands I commit my spirit.” When he had said this, he breathed his last.

 

47 The centurion, seeing what had happened, praised God and said, “Surely this was a righteous man.” 48 When all the people who had gathered to witness this sight saw what took place, they beat their breasts and went away. 49 But all those who knew him, including the women who had followed him from Galilee, stood at a distance, watching these things. (Luke 23:26-49, NIV)

 

 

REFLECTIONS:

Most of us probably read this passage and focus almost exclusively upon the atonement features. Here's what I mean: most, if not, all of our thoughts are centered around the idea that Jesus' sacrificial death paid the price for our personal salvation. There's nothing wrong with this. Jesus' death most definitely did atone for our sins. His death most definitely did pay the price for our redemption. It's quite natural that we would read this passage and think of the ways that Jesus' death affects our personal relationship with God. I'm not going to suggest that there's anything wrong with this reading; but I would like to suggest that there are other things going on in this passage. Things that affect not only our individual lives, but the entire world and all of history.

 

As we stand back from the story, we remind ourselves that this last phase of the gospel story had begun with Jesus coming to Jerusalem and solemnly declaring God's judgment on the Temple and its whole system. That had led to his trial before the high priest of the day, and then to Pilate and to condemnation. Jesus really does seem to have believed that it was part of his role to take into himself the task of the Temple and Priest together. This is why he cleansed the Temple (19:45-46). This is why he taught in the Temple courts every day of his final week of life (19:47-48; 20:1-8). This is why he spoke of his sacrificial death in covenantal terms (Luke 22:14-20). HE would be the place where, and the means by which, God would meet with his people in grace and forgiveness.

 

But there is another aspect of Jesus' death, an aspect that is often forgotten or overlooked. If Jesus is on the cross as the true Priest, Luke insists that he is also the true King. This, says Luke, is what it looks like when God's kingdom comes! Throughout his ministry, Jesus has stood on its head the meaning of kingship, the meaning of the kingdom itself. He has celebrated with the wrong people, offered peace and hope to the wrong people, and warned the wrong people of God's coming judgment. Now he is hailed as King at last, but in mockery. Here comes his royal cupbearer, only it's a Roman soldier offering him the sour wine that poor people drink (23:36). Here is his royal placard, announcing his kingship to the world, but it is in fact the criminal charge, which explains his cruel death. "This is the king of the Jews!" the placard mockingly declared (23:38). It certainly doesn't appear as though Jesus is a king. It certainly doesn't look like God's kingdom is coming. In fact, it looks as though Jesus is a failed Messiah. The religious authorities scoffed: "If he is truly God’s Messiah, the Chosen One, let him save himself" (23:35). The sneering challenge, "If you are the king of the Jews…" (23:37), goes back to the demonic challenge in the desert: "If you are the Son of God…" (4:3, 9).

 

Jesus' true royalty, though, shines out in his prayer and his promise, both recorded only in Luke. Unlike traditional martyrs, who died with a curse against their torturers, Jesus prays for their forgiveness. "Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing" (23:34). Like a king on his way to enthronement, Jesus promises a place of honor and bliss one who requests it. "Today you will be with me in paradise" (23:43).

 

Jesus' promise of paradise must have surprised the criminal, just as it surprises us. After all, as I just mentioned, it appeared that Jesus was a failed Messiah. But he knows that his sacrificial death is the means by which he is becoming king. And he isn't becoming king in some pie-in-the-sky, ethereal, far-off sense. He is becoming king, here and now. No more waiting. "Today." In the criminal's case: paradise now, and resurrection still to come. In our case: forgiveness, healing and hope, here and now. And the call to serve, and to give ourselves, as he gave himself for us.

 

The point for our present purpose is that Luke, like all the other gospel writers, urges us to see Jesus' death as explicitly "royal," explicitly "messianic"—in other words, explicitly to do with the coming of God's "kingdom." There is no getting around it. This is the coming of the kingdom, the sovereign rule of Israel's God arriving on earth as in heaven, exercised through David's true son and heir. It comes through his death. The fact that the kingdom is redefined by the cross doesn't mean that it isn't still the kingdom. The fact that the cross is the kingdom-bringing event doesn't mean that it isn’t still an act of horrible and brutal injustice, on the one hand, and powerful, rescuing divine love, on the other. The two meanings are brought into dramatic and shocking but permanent relation.

 

 

POINT OF PONDER:

As you go about doing whatever you are doing today, whisper to yourself again and again these beautiful words:  

"Love so amazing, so divine, demands my soul, my life, my all."

"Love so amazing, so divine, demands my soul, my life, my all."

"Love so amazing, so divine, demands my soul, my life, my all."

 

WHO AM I?
I am Tres Sansom, and I am so grateful for the sacrificial death of Jesus. Here is a painting I came across a few years ago. It's called "View from the Cross" and it's painted by James Tissot (1836-1902). As I meditate upon this painting, I see myself in the faces of those standing around the cross. Sometimes I see myself in scornful glare of the religious leaders. Sometimes in this stoic face of the crimson-cloaked centurion. Still other times, I see myself in the face of the mocking guard seated next to the jars of sour wine. And other times I see myself in the grieving faces of the women who dared to draw close to him in his moment of suffering.