Whenever I read any kind of history, but especially Biblical history, I often ask myself what it would have been like to live in those times, what it might have felt like to be there, done this, heard that. And you may have noticed that my sermons often come from that perspective: what was it like to have followed Jesus, to have heard Paul preach, to be threatened with stoning or worse. And sometimes I even go so far as to make up fictional conversations with the people who were there, to try to get closer to the reality.
But one thing I’ve never been able to do. I’ve never been able to try to imagine what Jesus must have felt like, what Jesus must have thought. I’ve never been able to bring myself to try to make up Jesus’ internal conversations. It seems not only disrespectful, but impossible. I can guess what I might have felt if I had been in Jesus’ position, but that’s different. As Isaiah said, God’s thoughts are higher than our thoughts - higher than my thoughts.
I’ve been thinking about Jesus’ coming into the city of Jerusalem, that Sunday before Passover. What a triumph. There he was, at the head of the most famous parade in history, hearing people shouting his name, waving palm branches and throwing their cloaks on the ground in front of him. How wonderful he must have felt, right?
If it had been us, wouldn’t we have felt pretty terrific? I mean, it’s only human to like being appreciated, isn’t it? After all, even though Jesus knew what was coming, surely this sweetened the pill just a little. Surely he could bank this moment, as a sort of cushion against what would happen at the end of the week.
But that’s not what Jesus was thinking. We know a little about what he thought, because Luke tells us. We heard it in this morning’s gospel reading. Jesus wept over the city, saying, “If you, even you, had only recognized on this day the things that make for peace! But even now they are hidden from your eyes.” [Lk 19:41] This momentary triumph just brought his coming ordeal into sharper focus.
So why did he do it? Why did Jesus put himself through this charade? What was the point? Was it really necessary?
Lots of cultures around the world have myths or practices that are bizarre echoes of what Jesus did for us. Back before Homer wrote the Iliad the Greeks used to sacrifice their kings on a yearly basis. It was part of the deal: in return for a year of absolute power and luxury you went to your death to ensure the fertility of the soil and the safety of the people. As far as we can tell from the records they went willingly. The Aztecs had something similar, although their chosen sacrifice didn’t become a king. A favored youth would spend a year in utter luxury and public adulation. It was an honor, only the best were chosen, but at the end of the year all their finery would be stripped away and they’d ascend to the top of the pyramid to the waiting priests and be killed in front of the screaming crowd.
There are echoes there of what Jesus did, aren’t there, but it’s upside down, isn’t it. Instead of beginning at the bottom and being raised up in order to be a fitting sacrifice, Jesus started at the top, and came down, in order to be an effective sacrifice. That’s the message in Paul’s letter to the Philippians. Jesus’ motivations were totally selfless. He didn’t have to be bribed with fame and fortune. On the contrary: he gave up fame and fortune to be our sacrifice. And this triumphal parade certainly wasn’t the big attraction.
Again, the gospels tell us, this time in Matthew’s account. Jesus entered the city of Jerusalem riding on a donkey in order to fulfill prophecy. The prophet Zechariah had said, four centuries before, that their king would enter Jerusalem riding on a donkey. This was a sort of acted parable. Jesus was making a public announcement of his identity as the Messiah, with full knowledge of what it would mean. It wasn’t just for the thrill.
So we know how Jesus felt that day, although his feelings were far from what ours probably would have been. And we know why Jesus did it, although it’s a stretch for us to understand.
But what we don’t know is, how could he do it.
And we need to know that, don’t we. We need to know how Jesus could do what he did, because we’re called to follow him. If we’re to take up our crosses and follow him, we need to know how he could do it because, somehow, we have to tap into the same power.
And that’s where Isaiah’s words can help us.
In this passage we see that YHWH God does three things for the one who is to save Israel.
The first gift is the tongue of a teacher. As Isaiah says, “that he may know how to sustains the weary with a word.” The first thing that God gives his willing followers is the ability to understand and remember and communicate his will. When we read God’s word, and speak it aloud, and pass it on to others, it remains with us in our own hearts and minds. When we are filled with the word of God, it sustains us when we are weary, encourages us when we are frightened, and comforts us when we are sad. Knowing God’s word is essential to anyone who wishes to be a follower of Jesus Christ.
The second gift is the gift of obedience. YHWH God opened the ear of his servant, Isaiah says. This opening of the ear isn’t just hearing; how often does the Bible speak of those who have ears but hear not? When God opens our ears, not only do we hear, but also we obey. The second gift is the transformation of the will, to incline our hearts to the purposes of God. And not just a mild preference, either, but a burning dedication. It takes a single-minded devotion to persevere with serving God in the face of all the pressures that try to keep us from it. The suffering servant whom we now know is Jesus Christ endured both insults and physical abuse because God gave him a passion that could not be sidetracked.
The third gift is confidence, assurance. No matter what happens, YHWH God will not abandon those who serve him. No matter how hard the road, in the end those who remain faithful will not be deserted, will not be defeated, and need never be ashamed. Those who follow God will be victorious, because God himself is holding them up. God himself is defending them against their foes. God is holding us up; God is defending us against our foes.
And we see all three of those things in Jesus’ life, don’t we. We see the wisdom, the perfect understanding of the will of God, the authority that astonished all who heard him. We see Jesus’ obedience, his unswerving persistence on the road set before him, in the face not only of temptation from Satan and the hostility of the local authorities, but also in the face of the entreaties of his friends, which are often harder to resist. And, finally, we see his utter confidence in the presence, the righteousness, and the power of God.
Where did he get all these from? And how can we learn from him?
“Morning by morning,” says Isaiah, “God wakens my ear to listen.”
It’s as simple as that. Morning by morning. Day by day. It is that consistent, daily immersion in the presence of God, the daily immersion in the word of God, that empower us to follow Jesus Christ. There is no way on earth - or in heaven, for that matter - that we can become effective disciples of Christ, and effective servants of God, unless we are spending time with God on a daily basis. All of us, as followers of Jesus, have been called to a path that runs across the grain of society. All of us have been called to operate under a different set of motivations, a different set of values, a different destination than what the world admires - or even understands. But the only way we can carry out our marching orders is by opening the gifts God has for us - the gifts of understanding, of obedience, and of assurance.
This is our challenge. Are we prepared to follow in Jesus’ footsteps? It’s easy to say we are - but the only way we can do it is by letting God provision us for the trip. Ask yourself how serious you are about being Jesus’ follower - and check your answer against your actions. How much time do you spend in prayer each day? How much time do you spend in Scripture? Without that investment of time, our Christianity is idle, powerless. But it doesn’t have to stay that way.
