“They All Left Him”

I invite you to turn with me to the Gospel of Mark and to chapter 14, and we’ll read from verse 41. And in a moment or two, as we turn to this study, I actually want us to begin just by looking in Acts chapter 8, which is page 917, in case that is of help to you. So, we’re going to read Mark 14. We’re going to begin in Acts 8. We’re going to turn back quickly to Mark 14 again. And if that’s too much information, just don’t worry about it at all.

Mark 14:41:

“And he came”—that is, Jesus came—“the third time and said to them, ‘Are you still sleeping and taking your rest? It is enough; the hour has come. The Son of Man is betrayed into the hands of sinners. Rise, let us be going; see, my betrayer is at hand.’

“And immediately, while he was still speaking, Judas came, one of the twelve, and with him a crowd with swords and clubs, from the chief priests and the scribes and the elders. Now the betrayer had given them a sign, saying, ‘The one I will kiss is the man. Seize him and lead him away under guard.’ And when he came, he went up to him at once and said, ‘Rabbi!’ And he kissed him. And they laid hands on him and seized him. But one of those who stood by drew his sword and struck the servant of the high priest and cut off his ear. And Jesus said to them, ‘Have you come out as against a robber, with swords and clubs to capture me? Day after day I was with you in the temple teaching, and you did not seize me. But let the Scriptures be fulfilled.’ And they all left him and fled.

“And a young man followed him, with nothing but a linen cloth about his body. And they seized him, but he left the linen cloth and ran away naked.”

Amen.

A brief prayer as we turn to the Bible:

So, gracious Father, what we know not, teach us. What we have not, give us. What we are not, make us. For your Son’s sake. Amen.

Well, it’s page 917. I want you just to notice a question and answer that takes place there that Luke records for us—an encounter between Philip, who’s directed by the Spirit of God to go to this particular roadway, and it is there that he encounters this Ethiopian gentleman who is making his way from Jerusalem back to Gaza, and as he rides in his chariot, he’s reading from the scroll of Isaiah the prophet.

And in Acts 8:30—that’s page 917—Philip ran up to this man, heard him reading the prophecy of Isaiah, and he asked, “Do you understand what you are reading?” A very good question! This is what our schoolteachers would ask us routinely: “I can see you’re reading it, Begg, but do you understand what you’re reading?” And then the response, which is equally straightforward, in verse 31: “And he said, ‘How can I, unless someone guides me?’” And then we’re told that Philip, beginning with that passage of Scripture, “told him the good news about Jesus.”

Now, I begin there this morning for a couple of reasons. One is to remind us of the fact that of the many gifts that God has given to us as his children, there are two that stand out. One, that he has given us the gift of the Bible so that we’re not left clueless. His Word is inscripturated for us so that we might pay attention to it. He has given us the gift of the Bible, and he has also given us the gift of teachers to open up and to explain, to expound, and to apply what the Bible says.

Paul takes this so seriously that when he writes to the Galatians, he says, almost in an aside, “One who is taught the word” must “share all good things with the one who teaches.”[1] In other words, there is a reciprocal relationship. The teacher teaches, and the pupils are thankful. When Paul writes to Timothy, he reminds him that he wants him to “continue in the things that he has learned,” and he underscores that by saying to him, “And if you will, pay attention to those from whom you have learned it,”[2] recognizing the role that God had given to these individuals in the developing understanding of Timothy as an assistant to the apostle Paul.

God has given us the gift of the Bible, and he has given us the gift of teachers to open up, explain, expound, and apply what the Bible says.

Now, on a personal level, and because my mind was going along these lines this week—not only because of this but partly because of this—I called a friend in England, a man who is some years ahead of me, in his middle eighties, and I called him to express my gratitude to him for the way in which he, both in person and in print, continues to teach me the Bible. I wanted him to know, because I was thinking of him, that it was important for me to express my gratitude to him. Because there’s hardly a week that passes without I don’t scan his photograph or I don’t have reference to something that I have learned from him either in person or in print.

Now, beginning in that way is purposeful in relationship to our passage as well. Because as I read Mark chapter 14 over and over this week in prospect of our study, it occurred to me that for many of us, this is familiar material—that the narrative describing the events leading up to the death of Jesus of Nazareth is, for not a few of us, fairly routine stuff. But then I paused, and I said, “I wonder: Do I understand what I’m reading? I wonder: Do they understand what they’re reading?” Because it is distinctly possible, isn’t it, that the very familiarity with a passage dulls its impact, or that our assumption is that we have already grappled with this, grasped it, we get it, and therefore, there’s really no point in spending any further time at all. Some of us on the other side of the spectrum, of course, may be unfamiliar with the passage in its entirety. This may be the first time we’ve ever actually sat down and listened as somebody read this portion of the Bible. And so the question is a valid question: “Do you understand what you[’re] reading?” And the answer may be, “How can I, unless someone explains it to me?” Well, here I am with the responsibility and privilege of trying to do that.

Now, I read the passage. It only took, what, a minute, minute and a half to read it? And it is obvious that there is nothing complex about the story line. We might summarize it… If somebody said, “Summarize these verses for us in just a sentence,” we would simply tell them, “Judas betrays Jesus with a kiss, and the soldiers take him into custody.” Pretty accurate, isn’t it, wouldn’t you say? “So then, let’s move on. Let’s have the benediction and head for lunch immediately. We know what it says. Judas betrays Jesus with a kiss, the soldiers arrest him, he goes into custody, and that’s it for Sunday morning. We’re done.”

No. Do you understand? Do you understand what is written here? Do you understand why it is written here? Do you understand the purpose that Mark has in describing things in the way in which he does? Or is it simply that when we turn to the Bible, the Bible is a trampoline upon which we bounce? We simply bounce ideas off it. Sometimes we seek to press ideas into it. And you, along with me, will have listened to sermons from passages like this where immediately, the person in the role of the teacher begins to throw out speculative questions for the listeners. They may say, “This morning, in relationship to the verses that we’ve just read, I want to pose this question: How do you think you would have felt if you had been in the garden with Jesus?”

Well, who in the world cares? I frankly don’t really care how you would have felt if you’d been in the garden with Jesus. Say, “You are a very unfeeling person.” Well, maybe that’s true. But that is not of significance to me this morning. Somebody else has said, “Well, you know, we’re going to look at this and consider the question: Have you ever been deserted by your friends?” Well, it’s a good question. If you have, it’s painful, I know. I remember that at school. But is that really what we ought to be doing with Mark chapter 14?

Or somebody in the present climate may actually be even more agenda-driven and say, “You will notice in here, there’s a number of references to swords, and we’re going to think this morning about what this passage has to teach us about gun control.” No, no, no, no, it’s true. You’ve heard these kind of sermons, haven’t you? And so it’s pretty obvious that the person either hasn’t got a clue what the passage means, or he comes to it with an agenda that he wants then to infiltrate the passage with and steer the listeners in that direction.

Now, that’s why we say to you from this pulpit again and again, you are sensible people; you must read the Scriptures to see what the Bible says, so that as you read the Bible and consider what it says, then you can listen to what is being taught, and you can look at the page, and you can say, “Well, that hasn’t got nothing to do with what he just said.” And then you can write me notes as you do. And that’s fine. I’m glad to be kept on track.

No, those kind of approaches are about speculation; they’re about invention. They’re not about biblical interpretation.

So, that is why in our principles of interpretation, in studying a passage like this, it is important that we don’t come to it and study it in isolation. But in other words, we make sure that what is described as happening to Jesus is then viewed in light of what we have already seen and heard of Jesus and also is viewed in light of all that is about to be explained later on in the Bible. That’s why we often say to one other in Sunday school terms, “The Bible is a book about Jesus. In the Old Testament, he is predicted. In the Gospels, he is revealed. In the Acts, he is preached. In the Epistles, he is explained. And in the book of Revelation, he is expected.” So we have every legitimate right to expect that although the disciples did not get it here in Mark chapter 14, post-Pentecost they would get it clearly, as Jesus had promised them they would when the Spirit of God will lead them into all truth[3]—the truth that they then would be able to write down for us so that we ourselves would not be clueless in relationship to these things.

The Narration

So, let us consider, first of all, the narration as it is given to us—the storyline. It’s pretty straightforward, and you can see it before you. Judas—who is a central character in this still, who had been present in the upper room—we learned, had gone out into the night, and he’s used these intervening hours to assemble the crowd which has now appeared with him in the garden. Mark is careful to point out that he was “one of the twelve.” That is verse 43. The strange ignominy of that is represented in that phrase itself. Here was somebody who had enjoyed the privilege of the company of Jesus for three years, and now he appears in the garden to betray his rabbi, to betray his teacher. He should then be sharing all good things with he who has taught him. He gives him a profusion of kisses, thereby betraying him.

In the dim light of the garden, in the shadows, only somebody who knew him well would be able to identify him, hence his role. It was really quite unnecessary, as John tells us that Jesus was ready for them. He was ready to step forward and introduce himself to him. But Judas did his business. While he was the treasurer of the disciples, he was a secret thief. Now, in the darkness, he’s out in the open as a traitor. It’s all there in the text.

What about this crowd that is here in the narrative as well, made up of soldiers and scribes, appearing in the darkness with their torches and with their lanterns, as John tells us?[4] In other words, there is some material that is an open flame. There is some that is clearly enclosed. And by means of this illumination, their implements of destruction—namely, their swords and their clubs—are visible for all to see.

Now, one of the things that would strike us, I think, if we were just thinking about this: Is it not quite remarkable that they would put together such a motley crew in order to arrest such a gentle man? Judas has given them instructions that “you must seize him and keep him under guard and take him away.” What, this one who dandled children on his knee? This one who was so tender to the woman at the well? This one who was so gracious to Zacchaeus, the little thief? This one who said, “Take my yoke upon you, and learn [of] me, [because] I[’m] gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls”?[5] You really need to come out against this man with all these implements of destruction?

Well, there’s something in this, though. Isn’t it in Hamlet? Is it Hamlet who says, “[But] conscience doth make cowards of us all”?[6] The sneaking suspicion that what they were engaged in was illegitimate—that there was no real basis for their approach to this Jesus of Nazareth in this way? And when you feel uncertain of yourself, if you can get a few to come along with you, you may feel that there is safety in numbers.

Actually, they had real reason to be concerned. The Johannine record tells us… And incidentally, when I say something this morning, and you say, “But it wasn’t in the text,” the answer is it wasn’t in this text, but you will find it in the Matthew record or the Luke record or the John record. If you don’t find it in any of those records when you check, then you must come and tell me, ’cause obviously, I’m making up my own record, all right? But if you read John’s record, in John chapter 18, John tells us that when Jesus stepped forward, then the crowd that came, apparently to intimidate him, “fell to the ground.”[7] And there is actually a whole drama in that that you can follow up for homework on your own. And when you read it there, you will discover that three times Jesus says, “Ego eimi.” “Ego eimi.” “I am,” “I am,” “I am,” he says. “Are you Jesus of Nazareth?” “I am.” “Are you?” “I am.” “I am.”[8]

And it is surely not insignificant. You remember, when Moses goes to Pharaoh and he has the responsibility of saying to Pharaoh, “Let my people go,”[9] he is diffident about it. He says to God, “Who will I say has sent me?” And God says, “Tell him that ‘I am’ has sent you.”[10] And these people suddenly realize that what they encounter in this garden scene is none other than majesty itself. Because the corruption of Judas in all of his treacherous approach is more than matched by the composure of Jesus which comes across clearly in this event. He asks them, “You know, I was always teaching in the temple. You had access to me then. Why didn’t you seize me then? You don’t have to come here like this.” You don’t get the impression of him being chased and harried, do you? If there’s any agitation in the garden, it’s not agitation in Jesus.

Now let the camera settle on these disciples. Judas is a character here. Jesus is a character here. The crowd is a character here. And here we have the credits running now for the disciple band. They’re about to collapse like a pack of cards. Peter is about to go down like a broken deck chair. It’s tragic, isn’t it? Luke records the fact that they asked this question almost in unison: “Shall we strike with the sword?”[11] And before Jesus apparently has a chance to answer, Peter decides the answer is yes, and so he takes his sword, and he lops off the ear of Malchus, who is “the servant of the high priest.” The first time I remember somebody preaching on this passage I remember, because it made me laugh when the preacher said, “Peter was either really good with a sword or really bad with a sword.” And it just made me laugh, and I’ve never forgotten that. He was either so good that he could take an ear off, or he was so bad that he could miss a head.

And there they go, under cover of darkness, their sorry departure recorded for us. In a phrase, verse 50: “And they all left him and fled.” “They all left him and fled.” Actually, again, John tells us that Jesus said to his captors, “It’s me you’ve come for. Let them go”[12]—which made me think again of Moses, who stepped forward to say, “Let my people go.” And he who is the great prophet, who out-prophets all the prophets, steps forward in the garden, and he says, “Let my people go.” He has come to deliver, to succor, to save.

Now, let me just mention the young man here in 51 and 52, because this little section can derail most home Bible studies. It’s the kind of thing that when the teacher is trying his very best to explain the significance of the passage, somebody wants to do nothing other than talk about the fellow who was running naked down the street: Who is he? Why was he naked? What was he really wearing? Was it a kilt? Was he wearing his pajamas? What was he doing? Before you know where you are, the whole Bible study has gone to pot. And you must resist that entirely.

The answer is, we don’t know who he is. The chances are that it was Mark himself. The house of John Mark may have been the house in which the Passover was celebrated. He then came out of the house in the context of the unfolding drama; he may well have been on the periphery of things. And when they began to round up Jesus, and they saw that there was one lingering young fellow there, scantily clothed, they made a grab for him as well, and he did a Joseph on it. Remember Joseph, when pursued by Potiphar’s wife, slipped off his kilt and ran down the street.[13] And here the exact same thing happens. But don’t get waylaid by the streaker. Just leave it alone. The main things are the plain things, and the plain things are the main things.

The Interpretation

So, from narration, then, to interpretation. The narration is straightforward. The story line is understandable, isn’t it? It’s the story of treachery. It’s the story of betrayal. It’s the story of an arrest. It’s the story of the composure of Jesus. All of this is there, and Mark is recording it for us.

Now, how are we then to interpret it? What is Mark doing with this material? Why is Mark writing as he writes? What is the intentionality of the author—the ultimate author being, of course, God the Holy Spirit? So how do we interpret this?

Well, again, you need to interpret it in light of context—the context of the entire Gospel, the context of the immediate surrounding text. And so we immediately have a hint of things in verse 41, where Jesus says, “The Son of Man is betrayed into the hands of sinners.” That may not mean very much to us until we go back to Daniel chapter 7 and realize that the Son of Man—about whom we sang as our closing song last Sunday morning: “And he will reign forever and ever”—the Son of Man is the depiction of the one who is there in eternity with the Ancient of Days.[14] And this Son of Man is an enigmatic figure in the Old Testament, and interestingly, as Jesus engages in ministry, his favorite self-designation is as “Son of Man.”

And actually, if you want just to fast-forward in your thinking to verses 61 and 62 in the passage here to which we will come in a few weeks, he’s being interrogated by the high priest. He doesn’t give him an answer. “The high priest asked him”—this is verse 61—“‘Are you the Christ, the Son of the Blessed?’” And Jesus says, “I am”—“Ego eimi”—“and you will see,” he says, “the Son of Man seated at the right hand of Power, and coming with the clouds of heaven.” And “the high priest tore his [garment] and said, ‘What further witnesses do we need? [We] have heard his blasphemy.’” In other words, they knew exactly what he was saying: “I am the Son of Man. I am the one predicted here in the prophecy of Daniel.”

So, it is as the Son of Man that he steps out from the experience that he’s had in the garden. It is, remember, in the perfection of his humanity that he has recoiled from the prospect of Calvary. But that issue has now been settled in prayer: “It’s not about my will or my design, Father, but it is about yours.”[15] And once that is settled, then he steps forward. You get the immediacy of it in verse 42: “Rise, let us be going; … my betrayer is at hand.” It’s not as if it has all gone into slow motion. And then one of Mark’s favorite words as verse 43 begins: “And immediately, while he was still [talking]…” Mark is always moving the action along.

Now, what you need to notice, and what Mark is showing us here, is that Jesus proceeds to this event not as a helpless victim held in the grip of dark forces, but he emerges into this encounter, in Psalm 19 terminology, as a champion, or as “a strong man,” ready to run his “course with joy.”[16] So, any temptation that we have to paint Jesus as somehow or another trapped by circumstances or disabled by this intimidating crowd or reluctantly moving in the direction of Calvary cannot be substantiated from a careful reading of the text.

The fact that his disciples didn’t get this—and they didn’t get it. In 9:31, Jesus explains to them again that the Son of Man is going to suffer and die and be raised on the third day, and Mark is honest enough to say, “But they didn’t understand this, and no one was prepared to ask him about it.”[17] It’s just like a bunch of naughty boys in the class: nobody understands what the teacher’s saying, but nobody wants to acknowledge that “I don’t understand. I haven’t got a clue what he’s on about.” And that’s exactly what was true of them. The Gospel writers tell us it again and again. He said, “I’m going to give my life as a ransom for many,”[18] and they looked at one another and said, “What does he possibly mean by that?”

So here, in this narrative, the record of Jesus is the record of him—and notice this carefully—moving purposefully, moving voluntarily, to drink the cup that the Father has given him to drink. They’ve come from the Passover. “This cup,” he says—inaugurating a whole new celebration, a whole new commemoration—“this cup … is the new covenant in my blood.”[19] And they must have looked at one another and said, “I just don’t get this.” He had already told them that the Son of Man must give his life “a ransom for many.” And they’re sitting there with all the pieces of the jigsaw puzzle, trying to put it all together, the way some of us may be doing this morning.

We’re not unfamiliar with this drama. We’re not unfamiliar with this story, but we don’t understand. You don’t understand. By nature, you don’t understand. You can’t understand till God makes it possible for you to understand. In fact, this story, this drama, when we begin to penetrate its essence, is, says Paul, regarded as “foolishness” by “those who are perishing.”[20] So it’s not as if people say, “Oh yeah, that makes perfect sense to me.” They read it, and they say, “This doesn’t make any sense to me at all!”

Well, that’s exactly where the disciples were. He told them. They didn’t understand. They were unprepared to ask. But here Mark tells us he is moving forward. The Father’s wrath is being poured out on sin. He is moving forward as a sacrifice, as a substitute, satisfying the wrath of God against the sinner.

And I wrote down in my notes words that I’ve given to you before for you to ponder, and they’re worthy of further consideration: Mark is moving us to an understanding of the fact that Christ’s death is necessary, is voluntary, it is propitiatory, and it is substitutionary. It is necessary insofar as he is the only one who can die in the place of sinners. It is voluntary inasmuch as he goes willingly to the cross. It is propitiatory insofar as he bears the Father’s wrath and expresses the Father’s love. In the cross, “heaven’s love and heaven’s justice meet.”[21] “Herein is love,” says John, “not that we loved God, but that he loved us, and [gave] his Son to be the propitiation”—or, as the NIV translates it, to be the “atoning sacrifice”—“for our sins.”[22] And when we look upon the cross, we see Christ up there not as an example but as a substitute, dying in the place of the sinner.

And why is this important? All of this has to be reckoned with if we are not to do a disservice to the narrative that we’re just considering, if we’re not to find ourselves with a kind of facile response that you hear from time to time from the lips of people when they read the record of the passion of Christ and they seek to sort of set it aside with the observation “That is a dreadful thing to happen to a nice man.” They’ve no idea what has just been considered by them.

That’s why, you see, Peter’s attempt to do anything with a sword is entirely unnecessary. Jesus had explained, “I can call twelve legions of angels, and we can deal with this in a moment.[23] What do you think you’re doing with that funny little sword that you’ve got there? Don’t be ridiculous. And incidentally, it’s frankly unhelpful that you got that thing out. You’re just delaying things here, Peter, lopping off people’s ears, and I’ve got to put the ears back on and everything else. And you’re trying to deliver me? You’re trying to deliver me? You’re actually hindering the purpose of the Father. The reason I have come is to this very hour. Don’t try and slow things up! Put your sword away! Sheathe your sword! Shall I not drink the cup the Father has given me?”

And it was going to take up until Pentecost for Peter to finally get that. I wish I’d been present on the day when he preached on the day of Pentecost to hear him finally explaining to the listeners, “This Jesus, delivered up according to the definite plan and foreknowledge of God…”[24] Say, “There you go, Peter. You’re on it now, boy. That’s fabulous. Where’d you get that from?” Some of his colleagues are going, “Man, that was some talk, Peter!” And he said, “Well, didn’t you listen? Didn’t you listen to what he told us in those days?” And when he finally writes to the scattered believers of his day, he puts it succinctly: “Christ also suffered … for sins, the righteous for the unrighteous, that he might bring us to God.”[25]

The Application

Well, let’s just say a couple of words concerning application. Application. You will notice that Jesus’ prediction that they would “all fall away”[26] is fulfilled. Zechariah pictures the day when the shepherd will be struck and “the sheep will be scattered.”[27] And here it is before us: “And they all left him and fled.” “The Scriptures, let them be fulfilled.”

Now, what legitimate points can we make by way of application? Let me just give you a few that’ll get you started—as it were, a charcoal sketch. You can fill in, take the coloring pencils out, in the afternoon.

First of all, we dare not miss the corruption and moral blindness of Judas. The corruption and moral blindness of Judas. Because it is a chilling reminder of how possible it is to be outwardly attached to Christ and to his church only to turn against him when he fails to meet our expectations, only to turn against him when we realize that he’s not the Jesus we wanted him to be.

No, this is not a reach for me to say this. In pastoral ministry, it’s happened to me more times than I care to recall: when I’ve sat with someone in a room, laid out for them what Jesus means when he says “discipleship,” the person has looked me in the eye and says, “You cannot ask me to do that. I am unprepared to do that.” What they’re really saying is “I want Jesus to do what I want him to do. I do not want to do what Jesus wants me to do.” “Then,” Jesus says, “you can’t be my disciple.”

Whatever was going on in the mind of Judas, in the mystery of all of that, his expectations had collapsed. And yet he followed with him, he listened to him, he participated, and he wasn’t one of them. He was like those to whom John refers when he says, “They went out from us, [because] they were not of us; … if they had been of us, they would have continued with us.”[28]

Secondly, we may not identify with Judas in his corruption, but I don’t think any of us can avoid the fact that we see ourselves reflected in the confusion of the disciples. If you take this whole story, one minute it’s bravado: “None of us will ever leave you or fall away from you, Jesus.” Then it is, they’re asleep. Then it is that they’re ashamed. Then it is that they’re slinking off to find a place to hide.

On the cross, Jesus bears the judgment we deserve in order to give to us the forgiveness we don’t deserve.

Have you ever been tempted to just fall asleep and chuck it? Slink off and find a place to hide?” Aren’t you glad that “the work which his goodness began, the arm of his strength will complete”? That “his promise[s] [are yes] and amen,” and they “never [were] forfeited yet”?[29] In other words, that he doesn’t ditch these fellows, and he doesn’t ditch us either.

Thirdly, notice that the powers of darkness that are arrayed against Jesus here are a sorry combination of politics, military might, and religious authority. Church history is littered with occasions when the religious establishment has combined with political authority and sought to silence the voice of Christ. The story of Bonhoeffer is such a story, and the story is repeated again and again throughout our world. Don’t immediately assume that the established church, the magisterial pronouncements of the church, pronounce on the side of Christ. They didn’t here.

Fourthly, let’s recognize how quickly we may reach for the wrong weapons in waging war. Remember, Jesus had said, “If my kingdom was of this world, then my boys would fight. But it’s not, so they don’t.”[30] He didn’t, and we mustn’t.

“The weapons of our warfare,” says Paul when he writes, “are not [swords and guns].”[31] The weapons of our warfare are two: they’re prayer and the preaching of the Word of God. People say, “Are you crazy? You’re going to turn the world upside down by praying and preaching the Bible, gossiping the gospel, taking this good news—playing soccer, and then telling people that Jesus is the only Savior because he’s the only one qualified to save?” Yes. Yes. Yes, a thousand times, yes.

When the church in any generation loses confidence in the weapons given by the Commanding Officer—namely, prayer and the preaching of the Word of God—when a church in any generation loses confidence in that weaponry, you will notice that it takes up its own inferior weaponry and seeks to do by political and religious might what can only be accomplished by the power of God the Holy Spirit through the Word of God and through prayer. Read church history. You’re sensible people. Figure it out.

Finally by way of application, we dare not miss the fact that Mark is describing these events in such a way as to make it clear to the reader—that is, to you and me—that the death of Jesus is for sinners; that he drinks the cup of his Father’s wrath as a substitute for those who deserve it; that on the cross he is going to bear the judgment that we deserve in order to give to us the forgiveness we don’t deserve. He wants us to see that Jesus, the Lamb of God, is going to his death completely in control of events—voluntarily, vicariously, and obediently, and as a substitute for sinners.

Do you understand what we’re reading here? “How can I, unless someone explains it?” Do you get this good news about Jesus? I don’t mean “Do you get it in the same way that you got your maths at school, when the person said, ‘You know, the circumference of a circle is’ whatever it is?” I always mention that, ’cause I never paid attention to anything, and I still don’t know which one is the diameter and which is the circumference, so I usually just stop at that point, as I’m about to do now.

But in other words, it is possible to read this and take it and say, “Well, intellectually, I grasp this in its entirety,” without ever embracing it personally, without ever coming to trust it, without ever turning and saying, “You died for me, ’cause I’m a sinner. You were a substitute for me, because I deserve judgment. You’re a wonderful Savior to grant to me, who only deserved judgment, forgiveness. However you do that, I want to receive that from you. I want to rest in that today.”

In the summertime, I decided—I may have told you this before—I decided that I was way past any kind of statins for potential heart disease. I had moved on from that. I had it under control. I was now able to handle this without any external help from the physicians or from their medication. So I went for about three or four months to prove how good I was doing, only to submit to a blood test and prove that I wasn’t doing very good at all. My knowledge of the opportunity for the help of the Lipitor, the access to the tablets in my medicine cabinet, my awareness of the physician’s perspective was entirely irrelevant to me until I availed myself of that which was provided for my well-being.

I spoke to people this morning after the first service, and it is clear to me that they just still don’t get it. They’re saying things to me like “I love coming to Parkside. You’re such a good speaker.” That was my wife. No, it wasn’t. I just made that up. No, she wasn’t at the first service. No, but I mean, what do you say to that? Say, “Thank you.” Do you understand? Do you understand enough to cry out to God to save you, or do you just understand enough to feel a little bit better about yourself? Jesus Christ did not come to add to the sum of our total happiness. He came to save us. Are you saved?

Let’s pray:

O Lord, look upon us in your mercy, we pray. Open our blind eyes to the fact that you died for sinners. Show us ourselves as sinners. Show us Christ as our Savior. Make the Book live to us, we pray.[32] And then help us to say, “I can’t imagine how you’re going to win the nations.” As we think of the nations that are represented in our building in these days, as the gospel goes around the world by various agencies, we say, “How is it possible that we’re going to win these nations? How can it be that ‘he, [who] angels worship’ would even ‘set his love’ on us?”[33] It’s amazing. “Amazing love! How can it be that thou, my God, [would] die for me!”[34]

Oh, make me understand it.
Help me to take it in,
What it meant [for] thee, the Holy One,
To bear away my sin.[35]

And if God is speaking into your life today in relationship to these things, turn to him in repentance and in faith, and embrace him as your Savior and your Lord and your King.

Hear our prayers, O God, and let our cries come to you. For your Son’s sake. Amen.

[1] Galatians 6:6 (ESV).

[2] 2 Timothy 3:14 (paraphrased).

[3] See John 16:13.

[4] See John 18:3.

[5] Matthew 11:29 (ESV).

[6] William Shakespeare, Hamlet, 3.1.

[7] John 18:6 (ESV).

[8] John 18:5–8 (paraphrased).

[9] Exodus 5:1 (ESV).

[10] Exodus 3:13–14 (paraphrased).

[11] Luke 22:49 (ESV).

[12] John 18:8 (paraphrased).

[13] See Genesis 39:12.

[14] See Daniel 7:13.

[15] Matthew 26:39; Mark 14:36; Luke 22:42 (paraphrased).

[16] Psalm 19:5 (ESV).

[17] Mark 9:32 (paraphrased).

[18] Matthew 20:28; Mark 10:45 (paraphrased).

[19] Luke 22:20 (ESV).

[20] 1 Corinthians 1:18 (NIV).

[21] Elizabeth Cecilia Clephane, “Beneath the Cross of Jesus” (1868).

[22] 1 John 4:10 (KJV).

[23] Matthew 26:53 (paraphrased).

[24] Acts 2:23 (ESV).

[25] 1 Peter 3:18 (ESV).

[26] Mark 14:27 (ESV).

[27] Zechariah 13:7 (ESV).

[28] 1 John 2:19 (ESV).

[29] Augustus M. Toplady, “A Debtor to Mercy Alone” (1771).

[30] John 18:36 (paraphrased).

[31] 2 Corinthians 10:4 (ESV).

[32] R. Hudson Pope, “Make the Book Live to Me.”

[33] William Young Fullerton, “I Cannot Tell” (1920).

[34] Charles Wesley, “And Can It Be, That I Should Gain?” (1738).

[35] Katherine Kelly, “Make Me Understand.”