This is a Lenten Series I am doing on the 7 words (or statements) from Jesus on the Cross. The sermons are based on several other series on this topic I have seen, but also much that I have done on my own.
I plan (plan!) to e-mail these ahead of time if you would like to adapt these for use in your congregation. Also, if you'd like a copy of the midweek services I will be using, please e-mail me and I'll e-mail the services as I complete them. Pr Rich Futrell Intro Epitaphs: carved into stone, whittled in wood, burnished into bronze. They are an enduring message for someone to read, long after the bodies below them have turned to dust, and the memories have flickered and faded. Gravestones may read, “Loving Mother and Faithful Wife,” “He Gave His Life Defending His Country,” or “Beloved Daughter.” Main Body Through prose, poetry, or imagery, epitaphs seek to reveal the life, love, and passion—the purpose—of the person beneath it. But Jesus had no epitaph. Put into a borrowed tomb, He had no words chiseled on a tombstone. If there had been, what would they have read? Would it have said: “Rabbi,” “Beloved Son, Faithful Friend,” “Hardworking Carpenter,” “Healer,” “Crucified, Died, and Buried,” or “Enemy of The People.” Jesus had no epitaph. But during the last cross-borne hours of His life, He did map out His way of suffering through seven last words. He spoke seven, final phrases, recorded in Holy Writ, becoming tiny touchstones on His way of sorrows. This Lenten season, we gather to make sense of His suffering, His seemingly senseless death, our complicated lives, and our Holy-Spirited union with him. And we do so with His last words as our guide. Jesus died alone, in circumstances that we will never fully understand. But those words provide tiny windows, glimpses of His final thoughts. Amid the atrocities and horror of His crucifixion, the first word that came from His mouth was a prayer. It was a prayer to His Heavenly Father. It was a prayer for His persecutors. Jesus graciously prayed: “Father, forgive them, for they don’t know what they are doing” (Luke 23:34). For whom does Jesus ask forgiveness, those who “don’t know what they are doing”? How many were there, who didn’t know what they were doing? The soldiers knew: They did the deed and wielded the whip. They pounded the nails and thrust the spear. It was all but a day’s work for a Roman soldier on a foreign assignment. Of course, the soldiers knew what they were doing. “They don’t know what they are doing.” But Pontius Pilate knew. Referring to Jesus, he said, “This man has done nothing to deserve death” (Luke 23:15). But it was easier to crucify then to acquit. So, Pilate washes his hands and sends Him to Herod. He made others say that they were to blame: “Let his blood be on us and our children!” (Matthew 27:25). Pontius Pilate, ever wringing his hands that are forever soiled. Pilate, indeed, knew what he was doing. “They don’t know what they are doing.” But Herod knew. During Jesus’ trial, Herod found nothing wrong with Him and send Him back to Pilate (Luke 23:15). He ducked the issue, finding a way not to make a ruling. And then Herod tried to hide his indecision, finding some way to shift the blame to someone else. Oh, Herod knew what he was doing. “They don’t know what they are doing.” But the Jewish, religious leaders knew. They were the fragile, frightened establishment that could not endure the presence of God among them. So, they stirred up the crowds, conniving and colluding to make sure the Romans would crucify the Christ. They whispered, “It’s to your advantage to have one man die for the people than for the whole nation to perish” (John 11:50). Oh, those religious leaders knew what they were doing. “They don’t know what they are doing.” But Simon Peter knew when he denied His Lord. Jesus even warned him: “On this night, before the rooster crows, you will deny me three times” (Matthew 26:34). Later, when confronted, Peter feared for his life and denounced Jesus, trying to save his hide. Even Peter knew what he was doing. “They don’t know what they are doing.” Even Judas knew when he betrayed His Lord for a payoff. He said, “What will you give me if I betray Jesus to you?” (Matthew 26:15). He had plotted his betrayal well, even to the kiss in Gethsemane, all to “cover up” what he was doing. Judas knew well what he was doing. “They don’t know what they are doing.” Even the criminals, crucified there with Christ, knew. As one criminal said to the other, “Our punishment is fair because we’re getting what we deserve” (Luke 23:41). Finally, someone comes clean and stops trying to cover and disguise what he had done by passing it on to someone else. “They don’t know what they are doing.” And here we are. We’ve also suffered the effects of our misdeeds, and when we did, we knew what we were doing. And, then, after we did the deed, we try to justify it, seeking some way to make what is wrong somehow seem right—or not as bad as it is. Our actions are as old as Adam and Eve, whom the Lord God sought out in the garden of their sin. After they had sinned, God asked them, “What have you done?” (Genesis 3:13). And they tried to cover up their deed, hiding it from the all-seeing God. They patched together fig leaves and made excuses. Even while Adam and Eve were covering up—making their lives tolerable, safe, bearable—they were driving the loving, living God away from themselves. They even tried to hide from Him. As Adam later admitted, “I heard You in the garden, and I was afraid, so I hid” (Genesis 3:10). If it’s not that, then it’s denial, as Peter cried out: “I don’t know the man!” (Matthew 26:72). When put into a bind, we send God away, as Pilate did. “I will have Him whipped and then release Him” (Luke 23:22). And when trying to keep we want, we hang Him up to die, as the Jewish leaders did. “It’s to [our] advantage to have one man die for the people than for [everything else] to perish” (John 11:50). And, like them—all of them from Adam and Eve to Herod and Pilate—we hide from, send away, and crucify the King of Love when we cover up our guilt. So, what are we doing? It’s our inborn, inherited habit. But it’s more than that, for we’ve practiced it, honing it to near perfection. We have even tried to cover up what we’ve done, so used to doing that, not even realizing that we are doing that! We don’t know what we are doing. And yet, Jesus prayed, “Father, forgive them.” Now, Jesus, He knew what He was doing! Even as the blows of the hammer drove the nails through His flesh into the wood, Jesus was heaven-bent on our forgiveness. Who would be so bent to forgive? He is the Son of Man, humanity restored to the image of God. This man, on the cross, reflects God’s perfect, forgiving love to the world. He is the perfect Forgiver, the Absolver above all others, who came to forgive us of our sins, even the sins committed against Him. Jesus was dying there for the forgiveness, for the sins we know and quickly confess. But Jesus also died for the sin that even seeks to have less to confess, that tries to justify itself by covering up and making excuses. In His first word from the Cross, Jesus is already stripping us bare to stand naked before the judgment seat of God. As in the Garden of Eden so long ago, the Lord God sees through our ruse of a cover-up. In the Hebrew language of God’s first Covenant, one word for “garment,” something to cover what someone should not see, is the word that also means “atonement.” And so, the Old-Covenant Day of Atonement, Yom Kippur, was the “day of covering,” the day of God covering His people’s sins. Beneath the cross, Roman soldiers divided Jesus’ garments. In that little detail, we see a picture of why we gather here as God’s people in this great Season of the Atonement. But we gather, not because of what only takes place in our sinfulness, but because of what Jesus does for us in His righteousness. He divides His garment, His covering, and then covers our sins, atones for them, with His righteousness. Jesus’ best garment was a seamless robe, flawlessly woven. In that purple cloth, we find the perfect robe of righteousness for which He died to cover us. We find His full forgiveness for which He prayed, even as He gave His life to make it so. “Father, forgive them.” Jesus’ prayer to the Father is also for you. He pleads for you before the throne of grace, showing the wounds of His crucifixion, bearing your sin. This forgiveness costs. Not counting your trespasses isn’t God winking at your wrongs. It will take more than Christ’s pound of flesh; it will take His life. “Father, forgive them, for they don’t know what they are doing.” And to be honest, when we sin, we do know what we are doing. But what we don’t know is the full impact, the depth of damage we cause when we sin. That’s part of what Jesus means when He says that we don’t know we are doing. We have no idea of the spiritual damage we do to others—and ourselves! We have only the tiniest inkling, at best. Thank God that forgiveness isn’t limited only to the sins that we know! “Father, forgive them, for they don’t know what they are doing.” Jesus’ word of forgiveness is a sweet, divine melody played against our sinful cacophony. It’s His new song sung against the devil’s lie and the old song of our sin. You hear it, too, in the Absolution at the start of the service. You hear it, also, when a brother or sister in Christ speaks Christ’s forgiveness to you. Conclusion Jesus’ word on the cross is His pardoning prayer that brings peace with God, making you whole again, restoring you with God. His forgiveness touches you with mystery far beyond your knowing. What an abyss of wrong had once separated, Jesus has restored in His deed of perfect love. Indeed, God and man are reconciled. “Father, forgive them.” So be it, for it is true, even for you. Amen! _______________________________________________ Sermons mailing list Sermons@cat41.org http://cat41.org/mailman/listinfo/sermons
