Born to Die

 

24 So when Pilate saw that he was gaining nothing, but rather that a riot was beginning, he took water and washed his hands before the crowd, saying, “I am innocent of this man's blood;[b] see to it yourselves.” 25 And all the people answered, “His blood be on us and on our children!” 26 Then he released for them Barabbas, and having scourged[c] Jesus, delivered him to be crucified.-Matthew 27:24-26 

 

Christmas is fast approaching and as we shift toward celebrating it this passage was a timely reminder of why Jesus came. I don’t know how many times I’ve read this and for years the people’s response has stuck with me. As I was reading it the other day Pilate’s words struck me. Neither he nor the crowds screaming for Jesus to be crucified had any idea the weight of the words they spoke. One man claims his innocence of the blood that would be spilled, and the rest pass the responsibility onto their children. The first doesn’t understand he is as guilty as everyone else and the second have no idea what they are truly saying, because his blood would be on their children, just as much as it was on them, but it doesn’t stop there.  

Why do we celebrate the birth of Jesus? Why did Jesus come? We celebrate the reconciliation he made possible through his death. He came to die. The Christmas story is steeped in blood and death. It is easy to gloss over Herod killing all the boys in Bethlehem that were two years of age or younger for fear of losing his throne because we tend to focus only on the happy. We don’t talk much about that because Herod killing children because of his ego isn’t really printable in children’s Christmas books. But we don’t talk about the reason Jesus was born in them in the first place, either.  

Not that I’m advocating you tell a group of toddlers about Herod’s killing spree, but we do a disservice to the gospel when we gloss over the fact of why Jesus came in the first place for a palatable version because of who we are talking to. Young children need the gospel just as much as adults. They need the real gospel. Not a watered-down version. If they are going to understand their need for the gospel as they grow, they need to know why we celebrate the birth of Jesus. There is plenty of emphasis placed on the crucifixion and resurrection at Easter, but why wait until then to talk about such things? The whole reason for Jesus coming was to reconcile us to God. Jesus was born to die.  

You want to sweeten your celebration of Christmas? Remember why we celebrate it in the first place. A savior was born. The lamb of God came to rescue us. He came to save us. He came as a powerless baby in a dirty stable. He came in a humble state that was the opposite of Herod’s ego. He came to die. He was born to make a sacrifice so that we could be reconciled to God.  

Pilate cannot escape the blood of Jesus because Jesus came for Pilate too. The children of the crowd would bear the responsibility of the blood of Jesus just as much as the crowd itself. That responsibility falls on us as well. He died for us. Beaten, broken, killed, for you and I. He would triumph over death and resurrect, reconciling us to God. But first he had to be born.  

So, this Christmas as you celebrate don’t skip over why we celebrate the birth of Jesus. His birth is to be celebrated certainly; just don’t forget why he was born in the first place. He came to save sinners with his life, death, and resurrection.  

The Cup

 

I've landed on my knees

This is the cup you have for me

And even when it don't make sense

I'm gonna let your Spirit lead

-Spirit Lead Me;Influence Music

There are times when a thought comes to mind, fully formed, processed, and sensible so that it can be written out and explained. Other times it will appear and float around for days or even weeks before something sensible can be written from it. The following is one of the latter thoughts. One that has been wrestled with for a span of time-two weeks to be specific. It is as thoroughly parsed as it is going to be. With that in mind, we begin.  

I’m not a stranger to having song lyrics or words spoken spark something in my brain that becomes blogs or even book ideas. That was the case with this. We sang this song two weeks ago on a Wednesday night. It was the first time I’d heard it and that particular line of the bridge stuck hard in my head. Fittingly enough the sermon that followed was on James 1 and being joyful in times of suffering and trials.  

If you’ve been hanging around awhile this won’t be news to you. If you haven’t and have somehow stumbled onto this blog my apologies for the confusion that this might elicit. I was diagnosed with Kahlman’s Syndrome just over 18 years ago. In fact, the night we sang this that anniversary was fresh on my mind because it had happened a week earlier. I wrestled with the weight of those words as they fell from my lips. 18 years is a long time. 18 years is older than most of the students I get the chance to talk about life and Jesus with on Wednesday and Sunday’s. It’s also almost older than all of my nieces and nephews. Only two of my nieces were alive when I was diagnosed.  

Time is a funny thing. It doesn’t, as they say, heal all wounds. It ebbs and flows and marches and simply is. Perhaps if given a proper length it allows memories to grow faint or disappear altogether, with or without permission. But it doesn’t fix things. It doesn’t hold such power. I can still, all these years later, break down that moment like I’m watching a movie. They say memory like that isn’t altogether reliable. I say they have no idea how hard my brain holds onto details. I was wired to remember things. Big things. Small things. Inconsequential things. If it isn’t a number but is a detail it tends to stick, even if there is no reason for me to remember it. I can tell you details that I shouldn’t be able to remember, but I do. There are moments etched into my memory that I can recount with detail that is likely not normal. But I’m not normal. That day is one of them.  

So why did those lyrics stick out? Because even after all these years I’m in a continual state of waiting, trust, and letting go. There are some who would say you can’t be continually letting the same thing go once you let it go it is gone or you haven’t truly relinquished your hold. Yes and no. This is not a tight hold on the what if, what could be, or what I wanted in life. It is instead a reminder that my life is unfolding exactly how it was planned. It just wasn’t my plan. And that is okay. It is continual because I don’t want to hold on to a life that wasn’t planned for me. I’ve got to trust in the one that has a plan already in place and is working as it unfolds. 

A few months ago one of my best friends asked me a question that made me laugh out loud while I was walking in my driveway. For context my conversations with him are often done over voice messages because we live in different time zones and seeing as how we are both adults and he’s married and a father we don’t regularly have time to sit down and talk on the phone for hours. So we use voice messages to carry out a phone call over time. It works even if it sounds weird. Plus, I can tell you it’s a cool thing hearing a voice of a reason that has been in my life for going on almost two decades interspersed with the sounds of his daughter laughing and talking as he walks with her or pushes her on a swing in the park. Now, back to the question, I laughed, not so much because it was a funny question, it wasn’t. I laughed because at that point in 17 years, no one had ever asked me what he did. He asked me what my gut reaction to pregnancy news was.  

No one has ever asked me that before. Again, if you are new here and have no idea what Kahlman’s syndrome is it’s a hormone disorder that basically means my brain is broken and doesn’t tell my body to produce the hormones required to have kids among other things. I might have even laughed as I replied to that message because it caught me off guard. There have been a lot of new kids in my life in all these years and I’ve never actually thought about that question until he asked it. If you’re wondering, the answer is envy. Do I wish I could for this news and only be happy, more than you can imagine. It makes me feel like a horrible person because marriage and babies are fantastic news that should be celebrated. I absolutely love kids, always have, they don’t have to even be related to me for me to want to feed, play, or if given the chance spoil them with gifts that will likely drive their parents crazy. Actually, the latter might be my favorite thing to do, not necessarily the driving parents crazy part, but the gifts, I love buying gifts. Buying gifts might be my love language if that is a thing.

Like I said, it is a continual state of waiting, trust, and letting go. Kalhman’s Syndrome is my cup. It has over the years found me physically on my knees more times than I can count. And that isn’t a bad thing. I have no control and in that position I am reminded of the God who is in control. Who has planned all of this out, not as punishment, but as a plan for His glory. It might not make sense to me, but I’m not God. My job isn’t to understand. My job is to trust.  

You want to see surprise on the faces of five teenage boys when you read James 1? Tell them that it is actually natural not to automatically feel joyful in trials. There is a reason Paul says to count it all joy. Because to do so actually takes work and reliance on God. We can’t do that ourselves. Joy is a fruit of the Spirit. We become joyful when we understand what trials produce in us as God works in us through them. If we did it naturally, we wouldn’t need to be told to do it. There is a reason the Bible never tells us how to sin. We do that without needing any instruction. But being joyful when trials come isn’t how we see problems. The only way to do that is to trust in God and rely on Him.  

This song and that sermon were a timely reminder that God is good in the trial. My understanding of the trial doesn’t change God’s goodness or his sovereignty.