“Experiencing the Passion” Series
Sermon 2: “Experience Complete Forgiveness”
(From the trial scene) – March 12/13, 2005
My preaching partner old me about an old guy he talked to recently. This guy is nearing the end of his life and he is struggling. He is haunted by his sin – decisions he has made, things he has done, or not done. Randy told me he reads his Bible 30 minutes every day trying to find peace – but he can’t find any. His dad was a preacher, and the God he preached was a tough God, a vengeful God, a just God. And this man can’t get that image of God out of his mind when he reads his Bible. And so this poor old guy is being crushed by his sin, and guilt, and shame.
You’ve probably felt some of that, I hope. You know what sin is, and you know what guilt feels like, and shame. We all deal with it in some way. We have to, this sin.
Some of us try laughing at it. We try to think of it as a quaint idea, an old-fashioned notion, certainly inconsistent with more cutting edge beliefs about tolerance, and personal freedom.
Some of us don’t throw the idea of sin away, we just make light of our own. I’m not so bad – never murdered anyone (physically); never cheated on my wife (physically); never stolen anything (big); don’t lie (big); not overly greedy; not overly gluttonous, I suppose. There are a lot bigger sinners out there than me, aren’t there? I think?
Some of us become experts at rationalization and blame. When I do sin, it’s really not my fault. My parents messed up a lot – that’s why I struggle. My wife and kids provoke me a lot – that’s why I struggle. It’s a tough world out there, you’ve got to cut some corners to hold your own. Fact is, we are artists at rationalization, aren’t we? and masters at justification, and experts at blame.
And some of us simply try to ignore sin. We avoid looking up at God – too embarrassing. And we avoid looking too deeply within – too embarrassing. So we try to fill our lives with so much busyness and noise that we drown out the whisper of guilt.
But it doesn’t work. We can fool ourselves for a while, but at some point our games quit working. And then we realize that we staring into the face of those two monsters – guilt, and shame, and they are there because we know – we sin. You know you’re a sinner, and you know it matters, a lot. You realize that if there is a God, and if he is holy, your sin is serious, serious problem.
We’re in the middle of an Easter series called, “You’ve seen the movie, now Experience the Passion.” Each week we’re looking at one scene of the passion story, and drawing from that scene one of the great themes of our faith. Today we’re looking at the trials of Jesus. And I’d like to introduce you to five key players. But I want to try to see them a little differently than we’ve seen them before. Because I think these five guys kind of represent five different ways we deal with sin, and guilt, and shame.
First guy – Judas. Let’s watch a short clip. . .
I don’t know what was going on in Judas’ head. Some folks actually think he was trying to do Jesus a favor when he betrayed him. Maybe Judas believed Jesus really was God’s king, but he was getting impatient for Jesus to make his move. So maybe Judas thought that by getting him arrested Jesus would have to make his move, and kick the bums out, and set up the kingdom they’d all been waiting for. . . But probably not. More likely Judas was just a jerk, a self-centered opportunist, a traitor. Probably he’d grown disillusioned with Jesus, and jumped on an opportunity to make a few bucks.
I don’t know what his motive was for sure, but I do know this – he sinned, and his guilt and his shame overwhelmed him. When Judas realized what he had done, he couldn’t take it. He tried undoing it, he tried giving the money back. Didn’t work. So he couldn’t live with himself. He couldn’t look himself in the mirror, he couldn’t face his friends, he couldn’t face God – so he ended it all . . . with a rope.
There are a lot of people like Judas. Sin flat out crushes them. Most of them don’t kill themselves, but they do wallow in their sin, and in their guilt, and in their shame till it sucks the life right out of them. They try to handle their sin by internalizing the pain and punishing themselves, beating themselves up, imprisoned by their past. Some of you are kind of like Judas when it comes to coping with your sin.
Second guy, second model – Caiaphas, high priest. Let’s watch a clip . . .
Caiaphas, high priest in Jerusalem, next to the Roman governor, the most powerful man in Judea. We don’t know for sure what his motives were either. Maybe he was mad – Jesus had been saying some pretty harsh things about the Jewish leaders, undermining their reputation with the people. Or maybe he was mad because Jesus cleansed the temple, his temple, kicking out the moneychangers, his moneychangers, his money.
But you know what, I suspect Caiaphas convinced himself he was doing the right thing. I suspect he convinced himself that Jesus was dangerous, a rabble rouser, a false prophet. He sinned – he condemned the Son of God, and his heart was anything but pure. But I’ll bet Caiaphas convinced himself that he was doing his job, protecting God’s law, and protecting God’s people, and exterminating a blasphemer.
I think there are a lot of people like Caiaphas. We’re sinners, but we’re artists at rationalization, experts at justification. We sin, but we have a hard time admitting it. We sin, but when we go to God what he hears from us is not brokenness, but excuses. Have you ever gone to God and prayed something like this: “”God I’m sorry, but . . .” Folks there are no “buts” in genuine repentance.
Third guy, third model – Pilate, the Roman governor. Let’s watch a clip . . .
Pilate, Roman governor, most powerful man in Judea, but embattled. We know he was a hard man, a mean man. We don’t know for sure what was going on in Pilate’s mind. For some reason he didn’t want Jesus dead. Maybe there was some decency in him and he recognized a travesty of justice, I don’t know. Doesn’t really sound like him. Maybe he was trying to keep his job. He knew that Rome was concerned about how he was doing his job – there were complaints. He knew he had to keep order and try not to do something too stupid.
I do know this. He sinned. When they kept clamoring for Jesus’ death, he gave in. He tried covering his back. He tried passing Jesus off to Herod – let him take responsibility. Didn’t work. He tried just beating Jesus and setting him free. Didn’t work. He tried getting them to kill Barabbas instead. Didn’t work. So he asked for a bowl of water, and he washed his hands, and he said – “It’s not my fault.” “Don’t look at me. Blame the Jews, blame the crowds, it was their choice, I’m not guilty, my hands are clean.” Didn’t work.
A lot of us are like Pilate, I think. We sin, but we’re master’s of denial and experts at blame. “It’s not my fault,” we claim. Maybe we stand back and watch a wrong without doing what we can to make it right. And we try to wash it off our hands. Or maybe we actually do sin while trying excuse ourselves. We say something stupid like, “I was just doing what I was told.” Whatever our game, I doubt God is fooled. We hold up our washed hands, he looks past them into our hearts.
Fourth guy, fourth model – Herod Antipas, ruler of Galilee, Jesus’ home. Let’s watch a short clip . . .
Herod Antipas, kicked his wife out so he could steal his brother’s. Had John the Baptist beheaded for challenging him. In love with money, and power, and pleasure. A genuine oriental despot.
We don’t know for sure what Herod was thinking about Jesus. Did he think Jesus was a serious rival? Doubt it. Was he convicted by Jesus’ holiness? Maybe, a little. But I suspect Herod thought little about such things. I suspect he was so obsessed with money and power and pleasure that he had pretty much gagged his conscience.
A lot of us do that, you know. We grow quite skilled at ignoring our conscience. In fact sometimes we get so good at it that it barely bothers us at all. We fill our lives with so much busyness that we can’t hear it. We fill our time with so much excess that the noise drowns out the guilt. We pack so much in that there is no time left for sitting quietly in God’s presence and letting him pierce our masks. We sin, a lot – but we are so good at ignoring it.
One more guy, one more model. A guy named Peter. Let’s watch a short clip . . .
Peter, the big fisherman, the rock, Jesus’ right hand man. He said, “Even if every one else runs away, I won’t. Even if every one else denies you, I’ll stand by your side.” A lover of Jesus, fiercely loyal, passionate, devoted . . . and a coward. To look up at that moment and see Jesus’ eyes, piercing his soul. It broke him.
You ever feel like Peter? You find yourself doing things you know are wrong – and it tears your heart. You want to be God’s man, you want to be God’s woman, but you find yourself failing him . . . over and over again. And it shatters you. You want to be pure, you want to be holy, but you not only sin, you find out you’re a sinner. How did Peter cope with his sin? How do you?
Let’s change directions for a few minutes. Let’s pretend. Let’s pretend you get the opportunity to back in time to that day – trial day. Not only do you get to go back and watch, you get to go back and play a role. Not one of these five guys, you get to go back and defend Jesus. You get to be Thomas Mesereau, you get to be the F. Lee Bailey and Alan Dershowitz, and Johnnie L. Cochran for Jesus.
If you got the chance to defend Jesus, how would you do it? Shouldn’t be that hard. I think I could one of several strategies.
Strategy 1: If I could get him to show himself, one act of indisputable power. Have him hold up his chains, and watch them crumble into dust. He’s God. He could have. Have him open their eyes so they could see the army of angels surrounding him. He could have, that would have scared their robes off. Have him begin to glow like he did on that mountain of transfiguration, where it looked like the very sun was inside him. He could have.
Strategy 2: You could call some powerful witnesses for the defense. What if you lined up just a few of the people who used to be blind, or lame, or deaf, or lepers. What if you lined up a few of the people who used to be dead. What if you lined up some of those whose lived had been transformed by him. What if you could get the Father, Abba, God, to say it again – “This is my Son, with whom I am pleased,” “This is my Son, listen to him.” He had spoken before – at his baptism, and at his transfiguration. Think that would have settled the case?
Strategy 3: Maybe you could have gotten the case thrown out because of all the irregularities, because of all the rules they were breaking. I’ve read that they broke as many as 27 of their own laws trying to get Jesus dead. You can’t start a trial at the high priest’s house. You can’t start a trial in the middle of the night. You can’t start a capital trial on the eve of a Sabbath or a feast day. You can’t convict a man of a capital crime without witnesses for the defense. You can’t reach a guilty verdict in a capital case on the same day as trial. There’s no evidence in this case sufficient to prove blasphemy. And you can’t change the charge from blasphemy to sedition when you take your case to Pilate. This trial is a farce. It’s a lynch mob. It’s a violation of your own rules.
Strategy 4: Worst comes to worst, you could always plead insanity. I mean, if Jesus really believed he was the Son of God, who really believed he was the “I AM” of God, who really believed he would be seated at Yahweh’s right hand, who really believed who would come again on the clouds of heaven . . . Well folks, if he was wrong, he was a madman, he was insane, he was a preposterous lunatic. You don’t crucify lunatics.
Well, you fine tune your strategies, and you sit down with your client, Jesus, and you tell him what his options are . . . And all he does is shake his head. You say, “This isn’t hard, you just need to cooperate a little, work with me.” And all he does is whisper, “No.”
Well, you’re getting a little frustrated – this is Jesus, your Master, your Lord. You say, “Jesus, if you’ll cooperate we can stop so much pain. You know they’re going to beat you until you’re almost dead – today! You know they are going to pound nails into your hands and feet and hang you up until you die!” He says, “Shhh.”
You say, “Jesus, if you’ll cooperate Judas won’t have to hand himself. If you let me defend you, these priests will have one less sin to answer for when they stand before your Father. If you defend yourself Pilate won’t have to face a lifetime of regret. Herod . . . well Herod is probably too far gone to care. But if you’ll just do something, Peter won’t have to . . . deny . . . you. (very slowly) And if you put an end to this travesty, I will die in my sins.” And Jesus looks at you, and gently smiles.
And it hits you, like a ton of bricks – You need Jesus dead. You need your Lord, your Master, your God dead. If you could go back in time and defend Jesus, would you? Knowing that it was for this he came. Knowing that but for this, you and everyone you love, and everyone he loves are dead in their sins?
So you stand before the court, and you hang your head, and tears stream down your face, and you say, “The defense offers no defense.”
700 years before Jesus the prophet wrote these words: “It was our pains he carried – our disfigurements, all the things wrong with us. We thought he brought it on himself, that God was punishing him for his own failures. But it was our sins that did that to him, that ripped and tore and crushed him - our sins! He took the punishment, and that made us whole. Through his bruises we get healed. We’re all like sheep who’ve wandered off and gotten lost. We’ve all done our own thing, gone our own way. And God has piled all our sins, everything we’ve done wrong, on him, on him.” (Isaiah 53.4-6)
And that’s why Jesus made no defense. He was finishing what he came to do. The prophet says, “He was beaten, he was tortured, but he didn’t say a word. Like a lamb taken to be slaughtered, and like a sheep being sheered, he took it all in silence.” (Isaiah 53.7) Because his sacrifice is your only hope. His sacrifice is the only way a sinner can be forgiven.
You can wallow in your sins, like Judas, you can try to punish yourself – but God says, “The wages of sin is death.” And you can try to justify your sins and rationalize your sins like Caiaphas – but God is no fool. You can try to wash your hands of responsibility and blame someone else for your sins – but God is no fool. You can try to fill your life with so much noise that you drown out the guilt and shame. But in some quiet moment, you’ll look inside and realize who and what you really are. You need God.
Or you can be like Peter – a big sinner, cleansed by an even bigger God. Broken, but healed by the blood of Jesus. Shame and guilt washed away. Melted by the love and the grace and the mercy of God. He experienced complete forgiveness. Isn’t that one of the lessons of the trial? – Experience compete forgiveness.
I don’t care how big you’ve sinned. I don’t care how often you’ve sinned. This is what the Bible says: “If we confess our sins to him, he is faithful and just to forgive us, and cleanse us from every wrong.” (1 John 1.9) Folks, I don’t just sin a little, I’m a sinner. You don’t just sin, you’re a sinner. And without Jesus you are damned, you will die in your sins. But if you let him, he’ll wash you clean, he’ll forgive you completely. The Bible says “He has removed our sins as far away from us as the east is from the west.” (Psalm 103.12) That’s the power of Jesus’ blood. The Bible says, “God tramples our sins under his feet and throws them into the depths of the ocean.” (Micah 7.19) That’s the power of Jesus.
It takes two things: Face your sin – no excuses, no blame, no rationalizations – admit you’re a sinner. And then Face Jesus – he is God’s forgiveness for your sins. Only in Jesus.
