22 For Jews demand
signs and Greeks seek wisdom, 23 but we preach Christ crucified, a stumbling block to Jews and folly to
Gentiles, 24 but to those who
are called, both Jews and Greeks, Christ the power of God and the wisdom of
God.
28 God chose the
lowly things of this world and the despised things—and the things that are not—to
nullify the things that are, 29 so that no one may boast before him. 30 It is because of him that you are in Christ Jesus, who has become for
us wisdom from God—that is, our righteousness, holiness and redemption.
1
Corinthians 1: 22-24, 28-30
Each Good Friday I make a point to read the
Gospel accounts of the crucifixion. For me, it’s a small way to consecrate the
most significant day in the history of the universe. And inevitably, by God’s
grace, as I set my mind of the events of 2,000 years ago, something new
surfaces to my attention.
The Bible is so rich with life-impacting meaning.
There seems no end to the layers of implication imbedded into what can seem
mere words and surface-level story—obviously, and especially, with the
crucifixion accounts. This morning what stood out was the depiction of the
criminals on the cross, on either side of Jesus, particularly as described in
the Gospel of Luke:
39 One of the criminals who hung there
hurled insults at him: “Aren’t you the Messiah? Save yourself and us!”
40 But the other criminal
rebuked him. “Don’t you fear God,” he said, “since you are under the same
sentence? 41 We are punished justly, for
we are getting what our deeds deserve. But this man has done nothing wrong.”
42 Then he said, “Jesus,
remember me when you come into your kingdom.”
43 Jesus answered him, “Truly I tell you, today you will be
with me in paradise.” Luke 23: 39-43
Immediately upon reading this passage my mind
went to Paul’s word to the Church in Corinth (referenced above). Read it again.
There, in the middle of two justly-sentenced felons,
hung Jesus, the King of the Jews, the King of the World—in itself a stark
picture of the dividing nature of Christ. And there, on Skull Hill, Jesus
separated the sheep from the goats, the wheat from the chaff, just as He has
necessarily done with every person who’s ever lived from the beginning of time
until now. To the one Jewish criminal, Jesus was a stumbling block, mocked in
the hopeless demand for a body-rescuing miracle—this, to his certain
condemnation—and to the other offender, who, in humility, recognized his
desperate need and begged for the salvation of his soul (not body), Jesus was
the literal Way, Truth and Life.
Pretty heavy stuff, huh? Luke uses this aspect of
the crucifixion account to depict what are the only two actual outcomes of encountering
Christ: salvation through acceptance of His call, or condemnation through
rejection, or refusal to answer.
But the world purports there’s a third response,
one not so dramatic or drastic in its implications. This encounter is religious
laissez faire and promotes/produces simple indifference—absolutely not
acknowledgment of Jesus as the only Son of the One True God…and Savior, but not
stalwart denial of that possibility either. Here, so long as the person is ‘good’
and lives at least a comparatively upright life, no embrace of Christ’s saving
grace is required.
The problem is, bluntly, there wasn’t a fourth
cross with a third criminal who hung quietly by the wayside. And there are only
two sides to a definite middle—exactly where the cross of Christ was driven
into the ground.
The questions are therefore begged: Which
criminal are you? Which criminal is your friend? Your family member? Before you
answer (and though possibly difficult, take stock and do answer),
however, think of the boisterous, insult-hurling criminal as unable to open his
mouth, hanging on his cross in sheer apathy—his fate would be no different.
Grace to you this Good Friday, to firmly grasp
the schismatic effect of Christ’s cross, and to respond with resulting urgency,
Voice of another
