Geist Christian Church
Indianapolis, IN
Good Friday 2013
Billboards are a powerful form of communication. As we drive along a highway, we fix our attention on the road ahead…on the traffic…on the speedometer…on the rear-view mirror…on our child in the back seat…on the GPS device…So many things demand our attention that it’s a wonder we notice billboards at all―yet we do, even if subliminally. These brief, graphic messages hang high beside busy thoroughfares to answer life’s essential questions. We absorb their messages as we speed to our destination, and when that child asks for a restroom stop, we can confidently say, “There’s a MacDonald’s at the next exit.” Billboards have done their job; they’ve given us the answers we need.
However, some of the most effective billboards give us no answers at all; they simply raise questions and pique our curiosity about something that’s about to be revealed. You’ve seen a vast expanse of white with 2 or 3 words like…
COMING SOON…
DON’T MISS IT…
WATCH THIS SPACE.
Indeed we do. Every time we pass that way, we glance over to the billboard to see what it’s talking about. Sooner or later, the board announces a grand opening or some “new and improved” product that we simply must try. Billboard advertisers have proven this formula again and again: Make your message brief, make it dramatic, and hoist it high above the traffic. People will notice what you’re saying.
The ancient Romans knew this principle long before billboards were invented. When tens of thousands of Jewish pilgrims poured into Jerusalem to celebrate the Passover, Roman military authorities wanted to remind them that law and order would be strictly enforced. So they selected a few of their most notorious criminals, nailed them to rough-hewn wooden timbers, and hung them beside the busiest road leading into the city — the road from Emmaus. These felons writhed in agony for hours, perhaps days, while the holy-day travelers hurried past. The message of this display was obvious.
I imagine a Jewish mother reaching down to grasp a child huddling behind her robe. She lifts him to her hip and says, “Look at that. Remember that, son. That’s what happens to bad people.”
But there was a mixed message in the Romans’ display on this particular Passover, because one of the men hanging beside the road was not a notorious criminal. Many pilgrims would have recognized him as Jesus of Nazareth, a rabbi who had traveled about the countryside, preaching the good news of God’s Kingdom, healing people, and casting out evil spirits. He’d upset other Jewish religious leaders by exposing their hypocrisy for what it really was. The Roman military attaché felt that was no serious crime, yet there Jesus was, hanging on a Roman cross between two common thieves. What could a Jewish mother say about this? “Remember, that sort of thing happens to good people”?
Well, yes. That sort of thing happens far more often than we’d like to admit. Honest people are executed for crimes they didn’t commit. Generous people are swindled and left homeless in the street. Loyal people are betrayed by their closest friends. It happens every day.
Why does God allow it? Theologians call this the question of theodicy: Why does a good, loving, all-powerful God allow horrible things to happen to good people? This afternoon, Jesus puts an even sharper point on the question: Why does God allow such things to happen to his own Son?
“My God, my God,” Jesus cries from the cross, “why have you forsaken me?” Why have you allowed me to fall into the hands of my enemies—not once, but twice–at Gethsemane and in Pontius Pilate’s court? Why have you allowed me to be flogged and tortured within an inch of my life? Why have you allowed Roman executioners to make a public example of me, nailing me to this beam and literally hanging me out to dry? Why, God, why?
His question hangs in the air beneath a glowering sky, but there is no answer. No divine voice speaks from the ink black clouds. No angel appears to say, “Fear not.” Good Friday is a day of heart-rending questions, but few answers.
We see other layers of meaning in Jesus’ death on the cross, and Holy Week invites us to reflect on them; but let us to use the crucifixion as a lens to bring Jesus’ question into focus. To do that, we need to trace the question back to its source. You see, it didn’t originate with Jesus; it’s actually the first verse of Psalm 22. Here’s what the writer of that song said, several hundred years before Good Friday:
My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?
Why are you so far from helping me, from the words of my groaning?
O my God, I cry by day, but you do not answer,
And by night, but find no rest (vss. 1-2).
The Psalmist reminds God that he delivered his ancestors when they fell into trouble. By remembering them, he bolsters his own courage and clings to the hope that God will deliver him.
Yet you are holy,
enthroned on the praises of Israel.
In you our ancestors trusted;
they trusted and you delivered them.
To you they cried, and were saved;
In you they trusted and were not put to shame (vss. 3-5).
Still, God is silent, so the Psalmist renews his cry…
Do not be far from me, for trouble is near
and there is no one to help (v. 11).
After several agonizing stanzas, verses 23 and 24 declare that God remains faithful to us, even in the darkest hours of suffering:
You who fear the Lord, praise him!
All you offspring of Jacob, glorify him;
stand in awe of him, all you offspring of Israel!
For he did not despise or abhor
the affliction of the afflicted;
He did not hide his face from me,
but heard when I cried to him (vss. 23-24).
God is silent, yet the Psalmist believes God hears his cry. God does not intervene, yet he believes God is aware of what is happening. God has not vindicated him, yet by virtue of his people’s history the Psalmist believes God will vindicate him. So suffering will not be the last word of his story. The Psalm that Jesus recalls on Calvary brings this focus to the question, Why does God let horrible things happen to his people? Although we have no final answer on Good Friday, the Roman billboard beside Emmaus Road tells us it’s…
COMING SOON…
DON’T MISS IT…
WATCH THIS SPACE.
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