April 18, 2014 – Good
Friday
© 2014 Evan D. Garner
The world loves stories about underdogs. They become the
legends that define our culture. We tell them to our children and
grandchildren. We make them our own. The upstart American colonists rebel
against the tyranny of the British Empire. The hard-working steel driver John
Henry matches his strength and skill against a steam-powered hammer. Small-time
boxer Rocky Balboa climbs into the ring to square off against the heavyweight
champ, Apollo Creed. The small-town high-school football team takes the field in
the state championship against the perennial favorite from the big city.
The bible, too, is full of underdog stories. We teach them
to our children in order to give them a glimpse of how they might also serve
God in extraordinary ways: Joshua and the Battle of Jericho, Rahab the Harlot, David
and Goliath, Elijah and the prophets of Baal, the woman at the well, the man
blind since birth, and, of course, Jesus himself—the carpenter’s son from
Galilee who took on the political and religious establishment of his day. In
1965, the life of Jesus was made into a movie called The Greatest Story Ever Told. You don’t have to be a Christian to appreciate
the drama and excitement of his underdog story. But the problem with falling in
love with Jesus the underdog is that you miss the whole point of the cross if
you’re only cheering because you know he’ll bounce back in the fourth
quarter—on the third day.
Imagine trying to make a feel-good movie about the 1935
Boston Braves. For sixteen years, they only had one winning season. Then, in
1933 and 1934, things seemed to get a little bit better. Both years, they
finished above .500 and in fourth place in the National League. Finally, in
1935, the team did something to end their losing ways. They hired Babe Ruth to
be both player and manager, bringing back to Boston the legend who had been
sold by the cross-town Red Sox to the New York Yankees in 1919. Everyone
thought that Ruth would bring his winning ways back to Boston—that his magic
touch would lead the decades-long underdog team to the pennant, but that’s not
how the story ended. The team finished the season with a major-league worst
record of 115 losses—61 ½ games behind the first-place Chicago Cubs. Ruth
retired on June 1—not even able to complete the whole season. Big hopes and
terrible losses don’t make for good stories, but sometimes the underdog just
gets beat.
What does it mean to cheer for the underdog who loses? What
does it mean to follow a savior who is crucified? Those of us who prefer to
fast-forward to what happens on the third day inadvertently make the
crucifixion a mere detour on the road that leads to salvation. But the cross is
more than a momentary setback. The death of our savior is an expression of
God’s victory that stands alone. It is a moment of salvation all in itself.
Consider John’s account of Jesus’ arrest and interrogation. The
soldiers and officers rush into the garden to take Jesus into custody, but,
rather than run or hide, Jesus comes forward to meet them. He asks, “Whom are
you looking for?” and, after they say his name, he declares, “I am he,” with
enough force to knock them to the ground. Yet, despite his power, he submits to
them willingly. Then, Simon Peter draws his sword, ready for battle. He slashes
at the face of the high priest’s servant, cutting of his ear. But Jesus tells
him, “Put it back in its sheath. Am I not supposed to drink the cup that my
father has given me?” When he is dragged before Caiaphas the high priest, he
refuses to defend himself, and, when Pilate the governor asks him if he is a
king, Jesus makes it clear that his kingdom “is not from this world,” but, if
it were, his followers would be fighting to free him. Over and over, Jesus reminds
us of his innate power, but he chooses to show it by submitting to the fate
that awaits him. In the end, the one who has all the power and could triumph
over his oppressors at any moment, chooses the cross because it is God’s
ultimate expression of what true power is.
For Jesus, victory is shown in defeat. Power is expressed in
weakness. Hope is found in darkness. What happens on the third day is not the
reversal of Jesus’ fortune. It does not show that the cross was a mistake.
Instead, it confirms that what happened at Calvary was a moment of God’s
triumph. In our faith, the underdog does not win in the end—at least not in
human terms. And that’s why it’s so hard to recognize the cross as a true
moment of victory all in itself. No wonder the crowd responded to Pilate, “We
have no king but Caesar.” To look at the bloodied, humiliated figure standing
before them, wearing a mock-crown of thorns, was to look at man who had
lost—whose fight had been extinguished. But that is where God is to be found.
God resides not in the locker room of the long-shot winner but in the defeat of
the team that never had a chance in the first place.
What sort of messiah do you worship? What sort of king have
you come to behold? The world wants to cheer for the unexpected winner. We like
the story of the underdog because, when the underdog wins, we feel like their
victory is somehow meant for us. But Jesus’ victory is far more substantial than
that. He came not only to bring hope to those whose lives are filled with light
and love and joy but also to give hope to those whose despair seems to have no
end. The true power of God is expressed through the cross. The powerless are
made powerful because that is where God is to be found. The suffering are made
whole because that is where God is to be found. The cross of Christ means that
our hope is not tied up in moments of worldly victory but in God’s willingness
to inhabit our moments of loss.
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