Lessons From the Cross- The Weak Made Strong

Feb. 9, 2020                Lessons From the Cross:  The Weak Made Strong 

1 Corinthians 1: 18-31

Friends, today we’re going to a turn to a topic that I believe demands our best thoughts and attention- the cross. For the next two weeks, we’re going to sit under the reality of the cross and let God teach us about its power. In a divided world, in a divided country, in divided homes, and in our distracted lives, the cross has some important things to tell us. Would you read with me? 

A few years ago, I decided I needed to get away and spend some time with God. It was fall, and was struggling to know what to preach over the next few months and thought maybe a retreat would do the trick. So I packed up some resources and drove an hour and a half south to Jumonville, one our Conference camps, which sits high up a mountain. I stopped in at the office, got my cabin keys, then pulled the car up to the cabin, where I prayed and asked God to reveal himself to me. And then I opened the door. And what I saw when I opened the door changed my entire retreat. Located just under the dining room table, all curled up, was a snake. 

Now, one thing you need to know about me is that I’m not much of a snake guy. If I know where they are and I can see them, I’m ok. But if they surprise me, I’m done. And I was almost done the moment I opened that door. But I determined to go on with my retreat. So I got rid of that snake and pulled out my resources to start studying. And then I looked down and saw another one. And for the rest of that afternoon, I was distracted. I couldn’t pray. I couldn’t read. I couldn’t write. The entire reason for my retreat was to create quiet space for God to speak to me, but nothing was quiet now.  I was consumed with moving furniture, with looking behind every curtain and checking my bed for any more unwelcomed guests.  My mind was on everything except for God. And then I remembered the cross. 

I don’t know if you know anything about the Jumonville cross, but it’s a sight to behold. It was built in 1950, a huge steel structure, and stands about 60 feet tall, with both arms reaching out about 12 feet. On a clear day, they say you can see three states from that mountaintop view, and when you hike up the mountain and stand underneath that big mass of metal, it makes you feel pretty small. So completely distracted from my time with God, I changed my shoes and began to hike. And along the way, something began to happen. As I moved closer and closer to the cross, the distractions began to disappear. God began to remind me of His presence. Sermon ideas began to trickle into my soul. I felt clarity; I felt light. I felt completely alive. And it was all because Jesus led me away from the snakes and led me to the cross and reminded me of its power.  

If we want to understand the Gospel, if we want to understand why Jesus is so vital for us, we have to understand the cross. I believe that one of the most important moves we can make as a church is to get back underneath the cross and allow it to define our way of living. There’s an old song that we sometimes sing that puts it this way “The cross before me the world behind me.” But we often get it backwards. We put the world first. We put “us” first. And understandably so. Paul says in our text today that the cross is “foolishness” to those who are perishing. And it does look pretty foolish at times doesn’t it? The cross seems to stand for all that’s negative and wrong with the world. It’s a symbol of death, but not just any death-a painful and excruciating death. This type of death was meant to destroy the body, but it was also meant to torture the soul with emotions and images that hurt our hearts. Emotions like abandonment and shame and humility. And if there’s anything true about human beings, it’s the fact that we’ll do just about anything to avoid what feels like it’s robbing us of life. But oftentimes, we try to find life in all the wrong places. That’s why our theology of the cross has to start at the beginning, way back in Genesis.

All throughout Scripture, we see that there are two paths available for us to walk: the path that leads to life (sometimes called the path of righteousness or the path of wisdom) and the path that leads to death. In other words, there is our way and God’s way. And the first time we see those divergent paths? In Genesis. In the beginning. Something happens for the first time in Genesis, something that put into motion a struggle we continue to face today: Adam and Eve chose their way instead of God’s. They chose to place their hope in something other than God. Since their creation, Adam and Eve had trusted God, and God validated their trust. He provided for their needs; offered them friendship and love and all the goodness life had to offer. Everything they needed, they found in God. But in one fleeting moment, they decided to travel down a different path. In one fateful decision, they decided, as famed scholar N.T. Wright once said, to take their orders from something created as opposed to the Creator. And we’ve been doing it ever since. 

At the heart of this ancient story, and the battle you and I face every day, is the decision of whose will we trust with our lives. E. Stanley Jones, one of the great evangelists of the 20^th century, once prayed, “O God, Your will is my freedom; my will is bondage.” And if we’re brave enough to look, just for a moment, I think we’ll see the truth in that prayer. God’s will for our lives is freedom. It’s good, holy and right. And yet, for some reason, we still find ways to convince ourselves that maybe we know our lives better than God. And when we go down that path, we eventually discover that it’s not as pleasant as we thought it’d be. 

In that Garden story, before Adam and Eve ever took a bite of forbidden fruit, they made a risky decision: they decided to listen to their curiosities and cravings instead of their Creator. Their gaze was drawn away from God, drawn toward the tree that promised them knowledge, and before they knew it, they were saying “No” to God’s will and “Yes” to their own. And it left them naked, shamed and out of touch with the God who deeply loved them. Their will became their bondage. 

I wish we could say that we’ve learned from our earliest ancestors, but the struggle to choose God’s will for our lives is real. We continue to question whether God knows us best, and in our self-directed culture, we start giving power to other voices. We listen to our bodies, we listen to our hearts, we listen to our cravings. And they all lead to the same place: bondage. We think it’s freeing to do whatever we want to do, but it’s really bondage. We think it’s freeing to be able to look at websites called “adult content,” but then we realize we can’t stop looking. That’s bondage. We think it’s freeing to have a drink, but then we realize we can’t get through the day without another one. That’s bondage. We think it’s freeing to say whatever we feel like saying, until we lose a friend. That’s bondage. We think it’s freeing to refuse forgiveness, but then we realize the anger we’re holding on to is slowly killing us- and not the other person. That’s bondage. We think it’s freeing to eat the fruit God said not to eat, but then we realize we’ve lost a special connection with God. That’s bondage. And that’s why need the cross. 

At the cross, Jesus reverses the fateful decision made in the Garden once and for all. At the cross, Jesus carries with him all the “no’s” we’ve proclaimed to God, all the reasons we give to God to tell him we can figure things out ourseveles, and He cries out “Yes” to the Father’s plan. On the cross, Jesus refuses to give power to other voices. He refuses to listen to his body, which is battered and bruised. He refuses to listen to his friends, who try to convince him that he doesn’t need to die to save the world. He even refuses to take orders from his own heart, which desperately wishes there was another way. Despite suffering and shame- things we tend to avoid because they look weak and foolish- Jesus continued to say “Yes” to God’s will, even when it made little sense. He trusted the Father, trusted the plan, trusted the goodness of God in a way Adam and Eve could not- and the cross that was meant for death became the door to life. That life, 

As I left the Jumonville cross that fall afternoon, I didn’t think much about snakes anymore. I never did see another one, but that doesn’t mean they weren’t there. I was just no longer consumed with thoughts of them. They no longer held any power over me. In a way, you could say that my time at the cross had set me free. That’s why we need the cross. The cross sets us free. On the cross, Jesus invites us to be forgiven, to wipe away all the times we’ve said “no” to God and “yes” to ourselves. But there’s even better news. On the cross, Jesus shows us a way to leave behind all the distractions, voices, paths and choices that create a gap between us and God. And on the cross, Jesus invites us to do something that might seem a bit countercultural: He invites us to surrender our wills, to surrender this idea that we know what’s best for ourselves, and to join him in saying  “Yes” to God again. That may seem weak, but let me tell you, it is the strongest decision we could ever make. Will you say “yes” to God again? Will you place your trust in His hands? Will you come to the cross this morning and be set free? Amen.