Lift High the Cross

John 20:11-18

I want to thank you for allowing us to journey through the season of Lent the way that we have. For those of you visiting today, I have been preaching a sermon series all through Lent entitled: The Questions of the Cross. On the Sunday before Ash Wednesday, the Sunday before Lent began, we were looking at a verse from 1 Corinthians 1:18, where Paul talks about the “message of the cross.” To preach about Christ crucified, the anointed one of God suffering the pain and humiliation of the cross, is a “stumbling block to Jews and foolishness to Gentiles.” I had a sense that Jesus’ death on the cross also raised questions for modern-day Christians, too. So I asked these beautiful folks if they had any questions about the cross or about their faith. They did not disappoint.

So, again, I want to thank you. The questions were beautiful and challenging; they guided me through a truly enriching Lenten season. I hope you feel like you’ve grown with me, too. We’ve prepared ourselves for Easter by looking at how Jesus prepared his own disciples for his death and resurrection. And before we take a closer look at today’s tombside tale, I want us to remember some of those lessons. Not specifically, but just recall the general gist of Jesus telling his disciples time and again that he was going to die and be raised again.

Then we get to today’s passage and we read that the disciples still didn’t understand that Jesus “must rise from the dead.” The disciples leave, incredulous—unable to make the connection between all that Jesus has taught them and the shocking reality of what they were actually experiencing. And can you blame them that the violent and humiliating execution of their friend might have distracted them from what he’d taught them while he was alive? And now, what’s worse, they think that someone has stolen his body from the grave.

As the disciples return to their homes, Mary remains at the tomb weeping. I imagine that some of you can relate to these disciples. Here we are at Easter and you’re still full of uncertainty or grief. Lent hasn’t been an easy journey. There have been illnesses, deaths, funerals, hospital visits. Through it all, we’ve wrestled through some pretty difficult sermons—I’ve likely said things that have done more to raise questions than offer answers, or said things that you’ve right out disagreed with.

So, let me come clean with why I decided to preach a sermon series on your deepest questions of faith: I was never so proud or presumptuous as to think that I’d actually be able to offer a satisfactory answer to all, or even to any, of those questions. What I was hoping to do, and what I hope I’ve done, is to help us become less frightened of the questions that lead us into deeper relationship with our faith, with others’ faith (even those of differing faiths or opinions), and deeper relationship with God, who is the power and purpose behind the universe, and whose mystery still manages to escape the boxes in which we try to contain it. Ultimately, my hope is that our Lenten practice of struggling with the questions of our faith has prepared us to be present for friends, family, even strangers who are struggling with questions of their own.

I feel like we become better Christians, better imitators of Christ, when we learn how to be present with people who are struggling, suffering, confused, or angry. We learn how to do this by recognizing and respecting our own struggles, suffering, confusion, and anger. Grace enables this practice. Grace empowers our growth in Christ-likeness, as it were.

One of my mom’s favorite scriptures, which has sense become one of my favorites since she shared it with me, years ago, is from 1 Peter 3:15: “Always be prepared to give an answer to everyone who asks you to give the reason for the hope that you have. But do this with gentleness and respect.” Engaging others’ questions with gentleness and respect. Engaging others’ doubts, suffering, confusion, anger with gentleness and respect. This, for me, is just so Christ-like. When Jesus appears to Mary as she weeps, he does not confront her with incredulity. The question, “Why are you weeping?” isn’t asked with overtones of disgust, but in a spirit of gentleness and respect for her grief. Only when she has been empathized with is she able to hear her name and then recognize herself in the presence of her Lord.

And of course, Jesus can empathize with her, with us, because he knows the human experience and all of its high’s and low’s. Cradle to cross. To lift high the cross, then, to pick up our cross and follow Christ, then, is to reflect the ultimate symbol of God’s understanding of, empathy towards, and compassion for human struggling, suffering, confusion, anger, violence, pain. The cross is a reminder that God did not respond to human violence with more violence. Jesus was not resurrected so that he could hang the Roman Empire on the “Mother-Of-All-Crosses.” Jesus was resurrected to show the ultimate victory of God’s compassion over fear-fueled impulses. The checkpoints on the journey of faith are not answers, but questions that lead us to yet deeper questions. The question that I am currently struggling with is: “How do I lift high the cross, now?”

And so, yet a third time…I thank you for journeying with me through Lent the way we have. Because I have learned that you—whether you are the beautiful people of Ampthill Presbyterian Church, the members of the River City Disc Golf Club, or any of my family and friends—you are capable of compassionate companionship through the questions that will guide us through growth in faith. You have helped me through my own share of struggles this past year as I have helped you through your share of yours. I’ve had a year that could easily have been a stumbling block for my faith…and if I’m honest, I guess I’ve got to admit that I’ve stubbed my toes a couple of times. Maybe you feel the same way. But, I have had the most incredible dance partner—in Christ, through you. There are many more worldly-wanderers out there, stumbling through struggles and suffering, seeking some solace…someone to dance with. So, I close the sermon in the words of Lee Ann Womack…” when you get the chance to sit it out or dance…I hope you dance.” I hope you dance with them, too.