When you are suddenly plunged into darkness, that darkness is profound, and you cannot see anything. But wait a while, let your eyes adjust, and if there is a glimmer of light anywhere, you will begin to see and you will make your way through. The darkness will not be quite as dismal as you first thought. Even in the darkness there is enough light to go by, if your eyes know where to look.
This chilly weather reminds me of a trip my wife and I made to England a few years ago. We stayed in a bed-and-breakfast cottage in the village of Randwick in Gloucestershire. We had the whole cottage to ourselves, all four rooms plus-plus. I’ll explain the plus-plus in a moment. The owners lived next door and would bring breakfast each morning, but we were on our own at night. There were only two drawbacks about this 300-year-old cottage. First, the electrics – that’s what the British call electric power – the electrics were on a meter that we had to feed. We were to watch the meter and push in a pound when it was getting low, lest it run out and there be no power in the cottage. That was a bit of a challenge. But then there was the plumbing. They did not build restrooms or showers in houses three hundred years ago. So to answer the call of nature, one went through the dining room, out through an attached kitchen, plus a shower space, plus finally to a tiny cubicle with no window in it. Plus-plus.
But all right, we thought we could handle that. No problem. However, the weather turned quite cold. We kept a heater on in our bedroom all night. Well, I could not sleep. I lay there under a mountain of covers but shivered and shook. Finally I decided that something else was going on in my body and that I would need to find my way down the steps, out through that dining room, through that kitchen, plus that shower stall, plus that tiny little room without a window. Plus-plus. I pushed out of bed, found my shoes, and started on my way. Guess what? The light at the top of the stairs wouldn’t work; the heater had eaten all the electrics. So in absolute darkness I inched down the steps and out through that suite of rooms, plus-plus, growing chillier by the second and more urgent with each step. I could not see a thing, but fumbled my way along until I was almost to my destination – and something moved! Something was out there! Something looming, something moving silently, something …
When you are suddenly plunged into darkness, that darkness is profound, and you cannot see anything. But wait a while, let your eyes adjust, and if there is a glimmer of light anywhere, you will begin to see and make your way through. Even in the darkness there is light to go by, if your eyes know where to look.
One dismal day on a green hill far away outside a city wall, everything on which people had depended went out. One dismal day at a place called Calvary, the darkness was so profound that no one could see at all. But when they waited and let their eyes adjust, they found that they could see something. Something, even when everything that they depended upon went dark.
It was now about noon, and darkness came over the whole land until three in the afternoon, while the sun’s light failed; and the curtain of the temple was torn in two. Then Jesus, crying with a loud voice, said, "Father, into your hands I commend my spirit." Having said this, he breathed his last.
How much more dismal can it be than this? How much darker could life be? The One on whom they had depended for guidance had breathed His last; now darkness and death, death and darkness.
And the Temple curtain rent in twain. The religious institution all torn up. The ways of the fathers, given to Moses centuries before; the ways of a people, brought together under the mighty King David; the habits of a faith, distilled in Abraham and built by Solomon and recovered by Nehemiah and taught by so many prophets – all exposed. The Temple, their religion – it had seemed to house very God Himself. But now the lights of the Temple grew dark, and the curtain split open to reveal a vast nothingness. Darkness and death, death and darkness.
Jesus dead, the Temple curtain torn, and most astounding of all, the sun itself failed and darkness spread like spilled ink over the whole land. Can you imagine it? Do we have any idea what that would feel like? The spiritual asks us, “Were you there when the sun refused to shine? Oh, sometimes it causes me to tremble.”
And tremble we must, because we too are living in a time when the sun refuses to shine. A time when hopelessness chills the hearts of unemployed breadwinners. A time when stock markets plunge and whole businesses go under. A time when crime is spiking upward on our streets. A time when death stalks the roads of Baghdad and the cobblestones of Kabul. A time when institutions meant to shelter the vulnerable and uplift the fallen are in danger. I submit, brothers and sisters, that we are living in a time of darkness, when so many things on which we have depended have burnt out. And when that you have depended on fails, it feels like a very deep darkness indeed. When the sun refuses to shine and the church seems empty and even that person to whom you have given your loyalty is snatched away, it feels like you are walking in complete darkness.
But remember: when you are suddenly plunged into profound darkness, and you cannot see anything, wait, let your eyes adjust, and if there is a glimmer of light anywhere, you will begin to see and make your way through. Even in the darkness there is enough light to go by, if your eyes know where to look.
Who stood around the Cross on that dark day? Whose eyes needed to adjust so that they could see the way? Anybody there we might know? Is it possible that we were there when the sun refused to shine? Let’s take a survey: let’s look at the curious crowd, the concerned companions, and the converted centurion. The curious crowd, the concerned companions, and the converted centurion.
I
And when all the crowds who had gathered there for this spectacle saw what had taken place, they returned home, beating their breasts.
The crowd, the people of the city come out for a spectacle. That’s the word the Bible uses – a spectacle. A show. What fun, let’s go see some men crucified. And when the show was over, cancelled by the darkness, to their homes they went, disappointed and distraught. It was not what they expected, not what they came to see, not what they wanted. And most of all, they didn’t know how to understand it. They knew only to stumble around in the darkness.
We too have the curious crowd. Many of us stumble along through life, not really aware, not paying much attention, and then are overtaken and feel surprised when all the things we have taken for granted go dark on us. The curious crowd are those of us who just assume that somebody will take care of us, from cradle to grave, and all we need do is have a good time, enjoy life, and take it easy. Let’s go to the show. Let’s find a spectacle and enjoy. The curious crowd are those who do not give of themselves to build anything or support anything, but who just expect that the government will do it, the school will do it, or even that the church will do whatever for them.
As a pastor I used to administer an emergency fund, just like you have here. We too would collect a special offering at Communion so that we could help people in need. But when it was gone, it was gone. I couldn’t make money out of thin air. Yet some of my callers wouldn’t take “No” for an answer, and one of them said, “Pastor, you’re not telling the truth. Churches have lots of money.” So I asked him, “Where do you think our money comes from, if we have lots of money?” His reply: “I don’t know. Isn’t it just ‘there’? Churches just have money. And I need some.” Now I understood this gentleman’s desperation. He had to feed his family somehow. And I did go extra lengths to find something for him. But the notion that everything is just there to support me and I don’t have to work to build it – that’s a blind idea. The curious crowd expects to be provided for. The curious crowd thinks that the world owes it a living and something entertaining. Bread and circuses. Spectacles’R Us.
I do not understand much about economics. I do not profess to get it about what is happening in the global economy. But I know that businesses borrowed to satisfy consumer demand, and consumer demand was supported by unbridled borrowing, and borrowing was made possible by unwise lending practices. And all that is caving in. The free rides are over and the big institutions we thought would be here forever are looking shaky.
Is there anything we in the curious crowd can do other than return home and beat our breasts? That’s what they did that day at Calvary. Do we see anything better to do that complain? It’s dark out there. But remember, when you are suddenly plunged into profound darkness, there will be light to go by, if your eyes know where to look.
II
But now let’s move in a little closer. Let the curious crowd go home, and who is still there at the Cross? Who else is trying to peer through the darkness? Those I call the concerned companions:
But all his acquaintances, including the women who had followed him from Galilee, stood at a distance, watching these things.
They stood at a distance, watching. The Gospels tell us that Jesus had settled in His mind what He must do. He set out from His home in Galilee, and trekked southward, slowly but surely, on His way to Jerusalem. This was no accident. This was His intention, to go there and confront the establishment. To proclaim the Kingdom of God in all its fresh power at the very seat of politics and at the very heart of the religious institution. Jesus knew where He was going and why.
But that does not mean that those who came along with Him knew. I see them stumbling along the road, murmuring among themselves, feeling uneasy about going to the city. In fact, there is one incident where they ask Jesus about their destination, and when Jesus insists that they must go to Jerusalem, then Peter sighs, “Then let us go, that we may die with him.” Their lives were bound up with Jesus, and with Him they went, even though they feared that at the end of that road there would be something most unpleasant. A dark and dismal road to death. But they were His concerned companions, and so they went.
They went, and stood at a distance, watching these things. Some of us who have been Christians for a long time and church folks for many years – some of us are waffling. Some of us are wondering whether we made the right bet. Some of us have begun to stand off at a distance, because we can no longer see the way. It’s a time of darkness, and we just don’t want to step out into darkness.
But think for a moment about what it means to be church. The concerned companions of Jesus – they were the only church there was at that point. But they surely had invested themselves in it. They had walked with Jesus and had given of their money. They had prepared the food and handled the crowds and done just about everything He had asked them to do, including making this march up to the city. And now this. This darkness, this death. What a disappointment!
But they didn’t run. They stood on the sidelines at a distance, but they didn’t run. Maybe they were trying to let their eyes adjust, but they did not abandon all that they had given themselves to. They may not have been able to see much, but they stayed the course.
You have made a decision to take the next step in the life of your church. You have poured yourselves into this place. You have given money, you have offered your prayers, you have taught and scrubbed and cooked and sung and who knows what else, so that here there might be an outpost of the Kingdom. I suspect that when your previous pastor left, having brought you thus far, some stepped to the sidelines. Some wondered what would come next, and could not see. Some maybe even felt blindsided by Pastor Updike’s decision to leave, made though it was in love, and with your best interests in mind. I suspect that quite a few stepped to the side, unable to see what might be coming, maybe even afraid that it would be negative and difficult.
But now you have made a decision for a new leader. You have voted to call your next pastor. The way ahead may not be fully visible, but there is a glimmer of light, and the church is stepping forward. I want to encourage anyone who is tempted to stay on the sidelines to come take a step in faith with this new pastor. I am confident that you can make this transition. I believe it is important that when you are plunged into deep darkness, you wait and let your eyes adjust, for there will be light to go by, if your eyes know where to look. Concerned companions may not have all the light they would like, and may hover at a distance for a while, but they do not throw away all they have invested while they were waiting for the darkness to lift. Stay the course, friends, stay the course.
III
And ah, brothers and sisters, what the curious crowd misses and what the concerned companions are still waiting for, the converted centurion finds. The darkness that envelops the breast-beaters and the anxious lifts for one man, the most unlikely one of all. A Roman centurion, an officer in Caesar’s army, beholden to the exercise of power, given to the force of arms, a man with no exposure to the way of God and no understanding of the character of Christ – such a man sees light and truth where you would suppose there was none.
When the centurion saw what had taken place, he praised God and said, "Certainly this man was innocent."
One of the other gospels even has him saying, “Certainly this man was the son, or a son, of God.” Whatever it was he said, one thing is clear. His mind was changed. His heart was touched. What his eyes saw in the darkness neither frightened him nor confused him. However it happened and whatever exactly he meant, one thing I know: because the centurion brought an open mind and a receptive heart that day, everything changed. Everything became new. The light came on, and hope was born. The converted centurion is going to make it out of the darkness, because he acknowledges Christ and knows that in this crucified One there is light. Light for life’s dark corners. Light enough for life.
I wonder if today there is someone here who needs to see what the centurion saw. In a time of deep darkness, you cannot depend on all the props you have used in the past. Governments topple, economies collapse, businesses fold, and even churches wither and die. Nearly every week I talk with pastors who think their church has only a few more years to live. All human institutions are temporary and can get hidden in the darkness. But there is One who will not fail, there is One who will not disappear, there is One who is the same yesterday, today, and forever. And His name is Jesus. All we really have, in the end, is a relationship with Jesus. Converted centurion, you got it right; you saw, you really saw, and you praised God and proclaimed Christ.
Who is there here today who is stumbling through life, without direction and unsure? You’ve been in the curious crowd, but there isn’t anything entertaining about this world anymore. You’ve sat among the concerned companions, but it’s been all about what church feels like for you. The issue is not what feels good or what feels comfortable; the issue is whether you know who Jesus is and whether you connect with Him for yourself.
Is there someone today who could become the next converted centurion? Is there someone today who can see clearly, even in the darkness, because your eyes now know where to look?
I didn’t finish my story, did I? In that 300-year-old house in Randwick, plus, plus, something moved. Something was out there. But that something said, “Joe, is that you?!” My wife had gotten up before I did to make the same trip, and I had not even noticed her absence when I got out of bed. All I had seen was the darkness! But what I did not know until my eyes adjusted and my heart grew receptive was that in the darkness there was someone who had found the way before me, someone who loved me, someone on whom I can depend. Together that night we made our way back upstairs.
And when I come to the end of my days, and the darkness around me be profound, my eyes know to look to Jesus Christ, who from light perpetual will say, “Joe, that IS you. Come with me.” Will you open your eyes and make that trip with me? “Turn your eyes upon Jesus; look full in His wonderful face. And the things of earth will grow strangely dim in the light of His glory and grace.”
