Looking to Jesus

Heavenly Father, we have just sung these wonderful words: “We are raised with him. Death is dead. Love has won. Christ has conquered, and we shall reign with him, for he lives. Christ is risen from the dead.” So now, in that strong name of Jesus, the risen and coming king, we plead with you that you might, by the Word and the Spirit, so speak into our hearts to give us just the word that we need to hear – a word of rebuke, of comfort, of encouragement, of sustaining grace that we might run the race that is set before us and that none in this room would fail to finish and win the prize. We ask in Jesus’ name. Amen.

Our text this morning is from the book of Hebrews. Toward the back of your Bible, before you get to the Peters, the Johns, the Jude and Revelation, the book of Hebrews, chapter 12, just two verses. And these are two great verses. These are two of my favorite verses in the Bible. I trust that they’re a favorite for some of you. Hopefully, many of you have them memorized. If not, be a great exercise for this Easter afternoon or this Easter week to put these two verses to memory.

“Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us also lay aside every weight and sin which clings so closely, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us, looking to Jesus, the founder and perfector of our faith, who for the joy that was set before him, endured the cross, despising the shame, and is seated at the right hand of the throne of God.”

What a great morning. It’s Easter Sunday. We have these two verses. You all look just so good, so lovely. We have these two verses and, not most important but a little important, is these two verses give your pastor a long-awaited opportunity to share many, many running illustrations – many running stories. Because unlike most American boys, I did not grow up dreaming of hitting a home run in the World Series in the bottom of the ninth or a touchdown in the Super Bowl, but that I might run the fastest. Now, that dream was also unfulfilled, but I continue to run and realize that the DeYoungs, or at least this DeYoung, was given a body that was not as good running into people. I played one year of football and had many, many bruises, but was better running away from people. It’s one of the reasons, not the main reason, but one reason I love this passage.

It is a very straightforward two verses. It’s a glorious paragraph, and the outline is very simple. You all can follow it. There is one main exhortation surrounded by three supporting participles. That’s just the type of speech it is. We have them in English just like we have them in Greek. And in English, participles are often -ing words. Two of the three participles are translated that way here. But the main exhortation is this – it’s at the end of verse 1 – “Let us run.” That’s the command. That’s the exhortation. That’s the big idea in this sermon, because that’s the big idea in this paragraph. The author of Hebrews wants his listeners, and God wants you this morning, to run the race to completion. And supporting that exhortation are these three participle phrases: being surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, laying aside every weight, and looking to Jesus. You could call it the exhortation surrounded by the encouragement, the instruction, and the inspiration. Let’s move through each of those points.

We’ll start with the exhortation. It’s simple. Let us run. And it’s nice that the author here – we don’t know who the author is in this letter – but he includes himself. This is not just a command from the preacher to the people, but he says, “Let you and I – let us run this race and run it to completion.” That’s the big idea. They’re facing many challenges. There are many obstacles as we’ll see, many reasons by which they may not finish the race. They may drop out of the race. And so, the singular command is let us run. And notice it says “with endurance.” That’s a bit of a warning and some good news. This is not a sprint. It’s not a 100-meter dash. This is a long race. Endurance. As I realized in my not-so-illustrious running career that what I lacked with fast-twitch muscles, I could try to make up for with hard work and just sheer determination and some long legs to just keep enduring and finish the race.

The longest race that I’ve done was five or six years ago. You know, a few people in our church have done the same race. I did the half Iron Man in Wilmington. It’s a 1.2-mile swim, a 56-mile bike, and then a half marathon. And I had my goals and things that I wanted to accomplish. By the time I got to the running part, I had one new goal: finish. The swimming part – now that’s what really scares people – but that was the easy part, other than some brackish water, but you’re there in the intracoastal waterway, and there’s a current bringing you in. No problem. Swimming – excuse to put on a wetsuit. You get there, and you get on the bike. Not a great cyclist. It’s 56 miles. Turns out that’s a long time. You know how many miles I had trained? In advance of those 56, the longest ride I’d been on was 30 miles. So, I was, I just – I didn’t want to be overtrained. I was not overtrained. And I was on that bike, it felt like, a long time. And I just kept thinking to myself, I just have to get out of this saddle. I just have to get my feet on firm ground. I’m a runner. I’ve done lots of half marathons. I’ll just get that, and even if I have to jog. So, I got off, and the first three miles was hitting my target pace. And then, when you when you hit the wall and you have maybe 20 minutes to go, that’s one thing. When you hit the wall and you have 10 miles, it’s very discouraging. I had people stopping and giving me salt to take in. I was cramping up. And it was 10 miles of “I’m going to run to that tree,” then “I’m going to walk for a little bit,” and then “I’m going to run to the next spot,” and I’m going to be discouraged as people who look much less fit than me pass me and say, “You’re almost there.” And I think many sinful thoughts. But I finished. I was finished, and a few people who knew that I did that race however many years ago – I had to walk up from the very – I think they put that railing in just for me when I had to walk up that one time. It was – I was so sore. It was a long, long race.

And so, run with endurance, because this race as a Christian is going to take your life. That’s the completion of it: your life. And there were lots of reasons for the Hebrews, lots of temptations, to not finish the race. Here’s a few examples. Hebrews 2:1, “We must pay much closer attention to what we have heard, lest we drift away from it.” I dare say, there are more people who fail to finish the Christian race for that reason – not that they wake up and say, “You know what, I’m done being a Christian.” They just drift. Now, Hebrews definitely teaches the doctrine of “once saved, always saved.” It’s sometimes called “you cannot lose your salvation.” But one of the things that Hebrews is doing is giving us all these warnings, because there are genuinely people – and we, sadly, we all know of these people in our lives – they taste of some heavenly things, they maybe even joined a church, they were part of a Christian fellowship for awhile, and then it didn’t stick. They didn’t stick. They proved not to really be with Christ. And so, Hebrews understands that reality. And these many warnings are the means by which God’s true people will hear it and say, “Oh Lord, may I not be a drifter.” Hebrews 2:12, “Take care, brothers, lest there be in any of you an evil, unbelieving heart, leading you to fall away.” So, some people drift. Some people fall away from the living God. Hebrews 4:1, “While the promise of entering his rest stands, let us fear, lest any of you should seem to have failed to reach it.” They just didn’t make it. They quit somewhere before the finish line. Hebrews 10:25, “Let us not neglect to meet together as is the habit of some.” That’s one of the ways that we fail to finish the race. Hebrews 10:39, as the writer understands that they’re facing persecution – some of them were put in prison, some of them are facing shame and mockery for the name of Christ – he says, “We are not of those who shrink back and are not destroyed.” We don’t flinch. Somebody comes at you with a fist and does one of these things and “aha, made you flinch.” Well, yeah. I don’t like to be punched. Shrink back. They’re shrinking back in the face of persecution, just like you might be tempted to shrink back. “No one else in my family is a Christian.” In some parts of the world, you’ll be disowned. There are Christians this morning facing threats on their lives. They’ve had churches burned down. They’ve had loved ones slaughtered. Most of us will face far less than that, but it hurts. It hurts to be ostracized. It hurts to be passed over. Hurts to think that everyone may be looking at us as something strange or backwards or bigoted. And so, we shrink back. I don’t want to be it. It’s not worth the cost. Here’s the summary of what they’re facing, these Hebrews. They have a temptation to avoid pain, just like we do. They’re struggling with lack of repentance, lack of obedience, the potential lack of faith. And so, they’re in danger of giving up, of turning from Christ, of just going through the motions, of shrinking back, of playing it safe, of stopping to meet together with other Christians. All of that – same sorts of things, different contexts, different pressures – but fundamentally the same. And so, the author says to them, and God says to us, “Let us run,” because there are many ways you can drift, you can quit, you can lose track – “Run the race with endurance.”

And you notice that phrase there, at the end of verse 1, “that is set before us.” That’s important. You don’t get to pick the race. You don’t know how long the race will be. You may have, from this moment, eight days, eight months, eight years, eight decades. The goal is to finish that race to get to the end of your life loving Jesus, following Jesus, spending time with Jesus, trusting in Jesus, gathering every Sunday with God’s people to worship Jesus. I’ve prayed on many occasions, Lord, would you take me from this life rather than that I stumble and not complete the race or throw shame and contempt upon the name of Christ? Better to run a short race and run it hard through the finish line than to lose my way and have other people be lost along with me. The race is as long as your life, and it’s set before you. You don’t know the obstacles. You may look at someone else’s life and say, “How come they got an easier race to run as a Christian?” Well, first, of all, you don’t really know. You don’t know whether they sleep through every night or they toss and turn. You don’t know – just because they smile on Sunday and their family seems to be put together and they have nice clothes and their Instagram page looks pretty – you don’t know what really goes on. And even if it is the case – it’s true, some people suffer more in this life than other people. That’s a cold hard fact of reality. But it’s not for you to set the race for somebody else. You don’t know what sort of obstacles each one is given. Setbacks. Detours. It is for God to determine the duration and the intensity of the race. Our responsibility by faith is to run the race. The one set before you, that you run it to completion all the way to the finish line. That’s the command. Don’t give up. Run the race.

Here’s the encouragement. The encouragement. Look back up at verse 1. Don’t you love this verse? It starts with “therefore.” It’s actually three Greek words, conjunctions, crammed together, translated “therefore.” It’s emphatic. It’s putting these three words together so that nobody misses “therefore.” Why is the “therefore” there for? It’s there for the connection to chapter 11. The author wants us to see that chapter 11 – bring all of that down now as we talk about running the race in chapter 12. And what is chapter 11? It’s that famous hall of fame of faith chapter. Remember these men and women. Abel, with his sacrifice. Enoch, who walked with God. Noah, who built an ark in reverent fear. Abraham, who left his home, offered up his only son. Sarah, who conceived in old age. Isaac, who blessed Esau and Jacob. Jacob, who blessed the sons of Joseph. Joseph, who made mention of the Exodus. Moses, who grew up in Pharaoh’s household, turned his back on the riches of this life, sent the plagues, parted the Red Sea. Joshua, who marched around Jericho. Rahab, who hid the spies. And then the author, sensing he’s running out of time, just mentions Gideon, Barak, Samson, Jephthah, David, Samuel, and the prophets. And then he references many others who conquered kingdoms, enforced justice, obtained promises. Stopped the mouths of lions, like Daniel. Quenched the power of the fire, like Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego. Escaped the edge of the sword. Were made strong in weakness. Became mighty in war. Put foreign armies to flight. Received back their dead. Suffered mocking and flogging, chains and imprisonment. Were stoned, cut in two, killed with the sword, clothed in ragged garments, destitute, afflicted, and mistreated. And yet, they did not give up. And you know that list, if you know some of the Old Testament, it’s a pretty sketchy group of heroes. It’s hardly anyone in there – and some of them, not quite sure why they are heroes. But for this reason, the focus there is not to simply celebrate what they did. Now, we do need heroes, and the Bible sets for us heroes. It’s a sad thing, and it’s a bad sign of a culture, that only can make movies and only tells stories with anti-heroes. Only the cynical person who doesn’t really care and is sort of a half villain and always sarcastic and – no, you need heroes, because even if one generation topples somebody’s statues, they’re going to have another set of statues. Everyone needs some heroes, some heroines, in life. Well, the heroes here, it’s not so much to focus on what they did, but what they accomplished by faith. That’s the recurring theme: all that they did by faith, believing in things that they could not see, having promises that were not yet fulfilled in their lifetime. That’s why they’re an example of all that they did by faith.

“Since we are surrounded by these witnesses” – now the word “witness” in the Bible is from Greek word from which we get our word “martyr.” Usually in the New Testament, it has an active sense – that is, someone who bears witness, someone who gives testimony, often in a court of law. And that may be part of the sense here, that these Old Testament saints, they can bear testimony to God’s goodness and God’s faithfulness and how he took care of them. But given the context with this metaphor of a race and weights and tangled up, surely we are right to see that witness here also has a passive sense. That is, the scene is not so much witnesses in a courtroom, but witnesses in a stadium. You and I on the track surrounded by spectators rooting for us, cheering for us. And not just any spectators, but these great heroes. I had some bad races back in the day. Hard to believe. I had some bad races – I wanted to tell people, because I was so far behind, I wanted to say, “I was injured.” You just wear a little something, “I’m getting over an injury.” And I got a lot of sympathy claps, and I know people meant well, but I just wanted to – I don’t even want you to know that I’m here. And sometimes I’d be far behind, and we were the Jenison Wildcats. We had green and white, and so, I’d get a well-intentioned person, “Go green.” Yeah, I know you have no idea who I am, but I know you’re trying. Doesn’t mean a lot to just – you’re a color, I’m for your color. You know what does help? Your spouse is there. Your kids are there. Your parents are there. Friends are there. Some of you young people, you do this church league basketball down at the Methodist church. I’ve seen some bigger crowds there than some church services, and you get all your friends there for pickup basketball. Isn’t that exciting, cheering you on? It makes a difference if somebody’s lining the way. You think of an Olympic race where the runner guts it out because he’s on home soil, and the crowd is lifting him up, putting flights to his feet as he goes around the track, cheering him on. He knows all of that yelling and screaming is for him.

This is one of those rare passages in the Bible where we get a little glimpse of what life is like for people in heaven. We have lots of questions about heaven. We wish there was a whole book that just told us what is it like in heaven, and there’s just a lot of things we don’t know. What we’re told is it’s joyful, and it’s glorious, and it’s wonderful, and we’re given more about the new heavens and new earth. But here’s one of the little implications. Notice we’re not told to pray to the saints. We’re not told to venerate the saints. We’re not told to ask the saints to pray for us. We’re not expecting them to haunt our houses. We’re not conjuring up mediums that try to talk to the dead. But notice the implication here. Those who have gone on to their reward, they can see you somehow. They see what’s going on here. And we’re to live our life. This is why it’s by faith, because we don’t get our glimpse into heaven except through the Word. We don’t hear their voice except “though dead, they speak” – through this Word. But by faith, we’re to hear the voices of the saints lining the track to cheer us on. And I presume it’s not just these Old Testament saints, but this is just an example of the great cloud of witnesses throughout history. Polycarp, Perpetua, Felicity, Augustine watching. St. Patrick looking on. Boniface, Hus, Luther, Calvin, Knox, Owen, the Countess of Huntington, Whitefield, Wesley, Watts, Edwards, Mary Slessor, Lottie Moon, Amy Carmichael, and your faithful childhood pastor who preached to you the gospel, that Sunday school teacher who first introduced you to Jesus, your believing parents, if you were so blessed with believing parents, your saintly grandparents, your spouse who has preceded you on in glory, your covenant child who died before you. They’re there. They’re watching. They’re waiting. They’re cheering.

And don’t miss this word, “surrounded by so great a cloud.” Maybe it’s the Lord’s providence that after two weeks of sunny days, you say, “Well, Easter, we got a cloudy, dreary day.” We need some of the rain, and maybe he knew that you needed to know what a cloud was like. Here’s Aristotle’s definition of a cloud from the ancient world: a thick conglomeration of humid vapors. Yep, that’s what it feels like. You and I are surrounded – not with a smattering of well-wishers somewhere far up into the bleachers when nobody could make it, like, you know, the also-ran bowl game that nobody cares to show up to – but surrounded by a great, thick conglomeration of saints. You’re put right in the cloud. You know, when you take off in the plane, and you got to go through the clouds before you get to the clear sky, and you come back down, and you go through a cloud. You look out there, and you can’t see anything. That’s the nature of being in a cloud. It’s thick. You’re enveloped. You’re all around. That’s the point. Swallowed up. God places us here. As you run your race, you are not alone. He places you, and you’re meant to have it here in the body of Christ and in the glorified body of Christ. One of, I’ve mentioned before, one of our favorite things to do in the summer is to watch the Tour de France in the morning. It goes three weeks. It’s crazy. Three weeks. What? 2,000 miles. Four or five miles on a bike every day. The shortest one, basically, is, you know, longer than 56 miles. I did that. I thought, “I hope to never do that again.” Not “I’d like to do that for three weeks.” If you ever watched it, and when they do one of the mountains, because it goes for three weeks, and the whole thing is won or lost in the mountains. And they’ll be doing the switchback like on Alpe d’Huez, and they’re there, and people have been camped out overnight. It’s really quite unsafe, but it makes a great spectacle, and there’s just crowds, and the best athletes in the world are barely hitting 7 miles an hour because it’s such a steep grade back and forth, and every one of the switchbacks has a name as they make it to the top of the summit. And you see there people just having to part like the Red Sea – people from all over the world, and don’t look too carefully, some of them are kind of crazy, just there enveloping them, cheering them on, some of them waiting their whole life, that they might just have a glimpse of their favorite cyclist going through the crowd. We are surrounded by a thick conglomeration of saints. They bear witness to God’s goodness and faithfulness. And they are, as it were, lining the track, coming down even out of the stands as you’re there on the inner lane. And you picture them, the saints of old, the heroes, the G.O.A.T.s, your loved ones, hunched down, hands on their knees, pumped fist, ringing the bell when you enter your final lap, cheering you on. Surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses – doesn’t that make you want to keep going, to throw off the sin and the weight and finish the race?

Well, that gives way to our instruction. The encouragement – surrounded by these witnesses. And then the instruction – two things. Lay aside every weight and sin. This might be the same thing, the weight that is sin, but I think they’re slightly different allusions. Lay aside every weight, because when you’re running, you want anything to weigh you down, especially if you’re running a long race. Now, I did not plan for this illustration, but I went out running yesterday with some of my kids and some of their cousins, and we drove, and we went to a track nearby. And so, we had to jog maybe a half mile warm up to the track. With my daughter Mary, she said, “Dad, can you hold my water bottle for me as we jog?” So, I said, “Sure.” But it wasn’t just any water bottle. It was that weapon known as a Stanley water bottle. Those things are barely legal under the Second Amendment. They’re just like cast iron, like a medieval mace or something, heavy with water. And I said, “Did you just – Mary, you just gave me a sermon illustration.” That’s what I was trying to do. I thought, “I’ll jog with this for four minutes. I’m not running a marathon with this thing. You get rid of your waste. Now, I know some of you spend $50 so you can walk around with weighted vests. The idea is that later, if you really had to, you can be even lighter. I remember reading a book when I was doing more triathlons, because while I’m not great at the racing, I’m a really good reader, and so I read a lot of books about the things. And I read a book on triathlons called Speed, and it was all about the science of what makes you faster, especially on the bike and the aerodynamic and the helmet. And it tested all these things, because people spend hundreds, thousands, sometimes tens of thousands of dollars with the special carbon bike and the helmet and the bars and the ball bearings, and the pedals, everything. Because if you can shave off a few grams, and they add up, and then you are a few pounds lighter, and the conclusion – the realistic, somewhat discouraging conclusion – of the book was, you know what, you could do all of that. And if you are trying to qualify for the Olympics, and you’re at the peak of your physical possibility, then that’s probably worth it. For the rest of you, you could probably just lose five pounds for free. That is true. $5,000 on all tricking out your bike, or lose five pounds for free. The idea is you don’t want any extra weight as you have to go and run the race. The weight here – I think it’s not quite the same as sin. We’ll come to that. I think the weight is those things in your life, they may not be sinful, but it’s anything that makes your ability to run the race as a Christian more difficult. It weighs you down. Things that may not be bad. Your smartphone. I have one, too. Not a sin to have a smartphone. A lot of good things you can do with that. Lots of ways the world is now fixed around having those gadgets. But I tell you, it can be for me and for a whole lot of us one of these weights that is one of the distractions, one of the things that feeds discontentment or pops images into your head that you ought not to see. Your weight may be as simple as you need to get more sleep, or you need better friends and influences in your life, or you need to set some posteriorities of things you’re not going to do because it’s crowding out. I think it’s basically what Jesus says in the sower and the soils about the person whose life was choked out by the cares of life, the worries of life. It’s not always the stuff. It’s all the time it takes to care for all of our stuff. The weight.

It says you need to cast off that weight and the sin that clings closely to you, or could translate that “entangles us.” This is surely a reference in the ancient world to a very long tunic or to a robe. And if you’re going to run a race, you got to get that thing up from the bottom, and you got to cinch it here. That’s where we get the biblical expression to gird up your loins. I know sounds like kind of a funny phrase for us, but girding up your loins is getting your legs ready, because you don’t want to try to run 26 miles in a bathrobe or run with a flowing tunic. You want to have maximal efficiency. So, you want nothing that can entangle you. I would say this is the verse I would use if my family says, “Dad, your running shorts are too short.” I say, “They’re just Hebrews 12:1 running shorts, is what they are. I just don’t want to be entangled.” But the idea – we can understand it – this sin that clings. The older language is of a besetting sin. A besetting sin is that sin that seems to always be right there. And your besetting sin may be different from someone else. It’s very easy to look at someone else and say, why do they spend so much money on everything, and they’re so greedy, and they’re so prone to worldliness. And you realize it’s because you don’t care about any of those things. You’re just not wired that way. And your besetting sin is anger or self-pity. Here’s what John Owen says about besetting sins: “This sin is that which hath an easy access unto our minds.” What are the sort of sins? You know, there’s some that it’s an unusual temptation, or if you’re in the wrong place at the wrong time. But then there are other things that have an easy access to our minds. He says, “It stands in no need of help or furtherance from any outward advantages. It is always ready to clog, to hinder, and disturb us.” I bet you could think now, if you were really bold, you would ask a friend or a family member. You better be sure you really love each other before you do this – what do you think are my besetting sins? Maybe start with the Lord, because he’ll tell you. What’s that sin that has an easy access into your mind, that tends to clog, hinder and disturb you on your race? And it’s often the opposite of some strength, and it’s your weakness. You say, you know, somebody else is judgmental, but you’re a people pleaser. Or someone else is filled with anger, and you’re filled with apathy. Someone else it’s discontentment; for you it’s self-pity. For one person, it’s the sins of the mouth, another person it’s the sins of the eyes. What are those sort of things? If you were to fall in this race, what sort of sin would it be that you would trip over? That’s likely to be your besetting sin. Notice that the author here does not tell us, “Run the race, and here are my instructions. Run harder, run faster.” Doesn’t say that. He says if you’re going to run the race, you need to take off the weights, those things that are making the Christian life harder than it needs to be. And you need to get the right sort of kit on so that you’re not tangled up in these sins. By faith, you need to take out these sins, take off these weights, so that you can run the race. Some of us are just – I just need more willpower, and if I just work harder, I’m going to run this race, and you haven’t taken off the weights. You haven’t dealt with those besetting sins. You just gut it out. That’s not what the author says.

And then he gives us, finally, an inspiration: looking to Jesus. Now “looking” implies faith and trust. This is different than simply remembering the good example of the Old Testament saints. We remember them, but now in a saving way we look unto Jesus, and we’re given his name. It’s the first time since chapter 10 that the name is given – Jesus, meaning savior. He will save his people from their sins. So, you look to him as a savior. And then he’s given two titles. He is a founder, that is he’s the one who calls us, redeems us, enables us to be born again. And then the second title, he is the perfector, that is the sanctifier, the one who causes us to persevere. Let’s put this in the context of the metaphor. Jesus is the one who sets you at the start line and gets you to the finish line. That’s the inspiration. And I’m using the word inspiration there in two different ways. There’s inspiration as “wow, what a good example, because Jesus already ran the race, and he finished” – that inspiration. And then I’m using it literally as inspirated – that is, the Spirit of Christ given to you. So it’s not just that Jesus is an example, and we look back and say, “Wow, Jesus did it. I’m going to be like Jesus,” but also that by his Spirit, he authors in us and perfects in us this faith.

Notice what’s perfected. It’s not actually us, verse 2, but he’s the perfector of our faith. There’s a deliberate contrast with the end of chapter 11. Look at verse 39: “All these, though commended through their faith, did not receive what was promised, since God had provided something better for us that apart from us they should not be made perfect.” You hear perfect, and we think sinless perfection. That’s not what it means in Hebrews. It means qualified, fulfilled. They had faith, but they did not have all that had been promised to them. They did not have the fulfillment of their faith. It wouldn’t be until the life and death and resurrection and ascension of Christ that, together with us, trusting in Christ, they, too, could have the realization of what was promised. So, our faith is made perfect. That is, God enables us to get from the starting line to the finish line. He is the author and the actualizer, the beginner and the ender. He’s the one who gets us enduring to the end. And notice what it says about Jesus. He endured the cross. You see the connection? Let us run the race with what? Endurance. It’s a long race. It takes endurance. So, here’s the author and perfector of our faith – Jesus – what did he do? No one was given a more difficult race to run than Jesus. No one had to endure more suffering in his race than Jesus. Whatever race has been set out for you, however difficult, and not to minimize that difficulty, but it is not the race that Jesus had to run. He endured the cross. How? Despising the shame. That’s a strong word. Despising the shame. He counted it as nothing, not worthy of notice or remembrance. We can think about the cross and mainly want to focus on the pain of the cross. And it certainly was excruciating. There was almost no worse way devised by man that someone could die than the cross. The nails in your feet and your hand. You wouldn’t die mercifully, rather quickly, by say, hanging from a noose, but you would die, and you would just wait for asphyxiation, and birds might gather about you. That’s why they would go, and they would break your bones. That was – to break your legs was an act of mercy, because otherwise, involuntarily, you would prop up yourself to try to gasp another breath of air in your lungs, and you would prolong your miserable existence. To break your legs was to help you die more quickly. But the gospels don’t focus on that. In fact, do you remember, the surprising thing was they went to break his legs, and he was already dead. Pilate was surprised that he died so quickly. There were two other men hanging on the cross that day. They also faced excruciating physical pain. What the gospels focus on, rather than that pain, is the shame. One after another: the purple mocking cloak, the crown of thorns, the faux scepter, those one after another who come and say, “If you’re the king of the Jews, why don’t you take yourself down from the cross?” Even one who is a passerby, it said, scoffed and jeered at him. That was what the gospel tells us. There was such shame. No one deserved mockery less than Jesus. He deserved every honor that we could heap upon him. He deserved immediately to be translated to endless bliss and glory. He deserved every kind of award and ribbon and medal around his neck, and instead he gets mockery and ridicule and derision and humiliation and scorn and shame. And Hebrews says he counted it as nothing. He disregarded it. He did not succumb to it. He did not flinch because of it. He did not faint under it. He despised that shame.

How did he do it? The same way you and I will do it. For the joy that was set before him. He knew. He knew what was coming. Three times in the gospels, he predicted that he would die, and he would be raised to life. He knew the joy, the joy that would be his in securing the salvation of the elect and the joy that would be his in his future ascension and exaltation and seated at the right hand of the throne on high. For that joy, he understood. What is the shame? It’s like if you’re a groom, and you’ve waited your whole life to be married, and at your rehearsal dinner when you get up to give a speech and pass out gifts to your friends and family, you trip. You stumble. You spill the day’s lasagna all over your head, and juice falls over, and you’re a sticky, embarrassing mess. Everyone laughs. Everyone points. Now, do you like that? Do you wish it had happened? No. Is it enjoyable? No. That ruin your day? No. Why? Because you’re getting married tomorrow. And no, that didn’t happen to me. It’s just a made-up story. You have joy. Joy. Somebody says, “I’m so sorry. You must be so embarrassed. That was really humiliating.” Well, wasn’t the best part of my day, but you know what’s happening tomorrow? I’m getting married. You despise the shame. You count it as nothing. You set it aside. You pay it no heed. You shake it off. What’s a little embarrassment when you have such joy before you? That’s Christ enduring the cross. And he knew it. Hebrews tells us for that joy – as they looked up and mocked and spat, and he saw soldiers ready to tear his clothes and cast lots that they might divide up his garments. And as they hurled insults at him; said, “You who are going to save the nation, you can’t even save yourself.” This text tells us Jesus thought to himself, “You are mistaken. This is not the end. I will live. I will reign. I will be exalted. On the other side of this shame is endless, unending joy.” Three days later, he came to life.

We sang the song, “See what a morning, gloriously bright, with the dawning of hope in Jerusalem. Folded the grave clothes. Tomb filled with light, as the angels announced Christ is risen.” One of the other hymns, too, mentioned the folded grave clothes. Why, of all the things to sing about on Easter, why does that make its way into our songs? Why are we singing about laundry preferences? Well, John’s gospel tells us that for a reason. It tells us that to compare the resurrection of Christ in chapter 20 with the resurrection of Lazarus in chapter 11 – same exact word used for those grave clothes – to make this comparison that although Lazarus was raised to the resumption of life, Jesus was raised triumphant over death. Lazarus, you recall, came forth from the tomb, and we’re told very explicitly, bound with linen strips, wrapped in a cloth, he comes waddling out of there like a mummy who just woke up. And when they get over the shock of “Lazarus lives,” and they plug their nose because he stinketh, they have to take off the bandages. Come, Lazarus. Not so with Jesus. Nothing to unwrap, nothing to unwind, no one to unbind. Jesus did not struggle to get free. He did not stumble out of the tomb like some mummy. He got up on resurrection morning and took off those nasty death pajamas. He folded them up and put them in the corner. I won’t be needing those ever again. Jesus was not simply living again. He was done dying forever. Because Lazarus, however long he lived out his days, maybe to an old man, he would have to die again. He would be in the grave clothes again. But not Jesus. His next step and his next stop after a time on earth would be heaven and exaltation and seated on a throne at his Father’s right hand. Death is dead. Love has won. Christ has conquered. Folded up the grave clothes.

Where are you in the race? You may sense that you’re nearing the last straightaway late in life. Keep going. You may be midway point, as far as you can tell. Maybe you realize this morning you thought you were in the race, and you haven’t really started. Jesus can get you started. Maybe you realize you’ve been on a really long detour, and it’s about time to get back on track and running this race, because you don’t want to drift away. You don’t want to fall. You know you have the saints cheering you on, and you want to keep going. The race is long. It’s as long as your life. There are many difficulties, dangers, toils, and snares. But we can finish it by faith, by grace, looking to Jesus. Let’s pray.

Heavenly Father, thank you for this Word, this perfect, inspired Word. So now, by the grace of Jesus, the gift of faith by the Holy Spirit, would you help us to run the race, cast aside every weight and the sin which so easily clings to us? We like to think about other people’s sins and the weights that they need to cast off, but help us think about ourselves, and keep us going all the way to the finish. We pray in Jesus’ name. Amen.