This sermon was preached at Glenwood & Canoe Ridge Lutheran Churches, Decorah, Iowa, on March 18, 2018. It’s based on John 12:20-33. If you’d prefer to listen to it, find it at https://soundcloud.com/stacey-nalean-carlson/.
At this point in our Lenten journey, we’re drawing closer and closer to the cross. And if we’re really paying attention, and really being honest with ourselves, we might just want to turn around now. Jesus himself might want to turn around now. “My soul is troubled,” he says. My psuche, my psyche, my entire being is troubled, agitated, stirred up. Why? Because now is the time. Now is the hour.
I received a text message from a friend, recently, who was about to do a thing that she knew was right—a thing that she believed her faith in God compelled her to do—but she was scared. “My heart is nervous,” she said, “and it shouldn’t be, because I know it’s the right thing.”
I wish I had had this gospel reading on my mind when I responded to her. I wish I could have reminded her that even Jesus was troubled, deeply, when the time came to do what he knew was right.
Each gospel writer—Matthew, Mark, Luke, John—paints a slightly different portrait of Jesus. When I think of the Jesus depicted by John, I think of an ever-confident Jesus. Always certain of his convictions. Always trusting in God’s will for him.
In John, Jesus doesn’t pray in the garden of Gethsemane, just before his arrest, as he does in the other gospels. He doesn’t pray to his Father, “If it is possible, take this cup from me.” He isn’t so in anguish that his sweat becomes like drops of blood falling to the ground. But here in John he is troubled. He is human.
Not long before our reading for today, Jesus is described as troubled for the first time. His friend, Lazarus, has died. And when Jesus sees Mary, the sister of Lazarus, weeping… he is greatly disturbed in spirit and deeply moved. Deeply troubled. Death, and the grief it leaves in its wake, troubles our Savior deeply.
And now, now is the time to take on death completely.
Jesus raised Lazarus from the dead, one man, who would ultimately die again. Even so, those who witnessed that sign, those who witnessed Jesus raising Lazarus from the dead, are testifying. News about him is spreading. Crowds are going out to meet Jesus. In today’s reading, even Greeks—Gentiles—want to see him.
His power, the momentum he’s gathering, the crowds believing in him, are a danger to those who see their own power threatened. “Look,” they say to one another in fear and disbelief, “Look, the world has gone after him!”
But how will that world ultimately be saved? How will death be defeated, not just once but forever? Not just for one human being, but for all? What will it require of Jesus?
More signs? More miracles? Political persuasion? Military might? Accumulation of wealth? Connections with those who have influence and social capital?
Jesus is troubled—his entire being stirred up—because the world is going to be saved, death is going to be defeated, not through power, but through devastating loss, terrible humility, incredible vulnerability, complete solidarity with those who suffer. And for Jesus that requires being lifted high–not on a pedestal, but on a cross.
“Very truly,” he says, “unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains just a single grain; but if it dies, it bears much fruit. When I am lifted up from the earth, I will draw all people to myself.”
All people.
The whole world.
The ones who want to see him and the ones bound by fear. The ones praising him and the ones who can’t wait to persecute him. The ones who know they need his help and the ones who are intent on saving themselves.
All people.
The whole world.
This is where we’re headed as we approach Holy Week. Jesus, through his death, and resurrection, and ascension, is drawing all people to himself. We follow a Savior, we serve a Savior, who leads us to life through death.
It’s not the way we want to go. Weakness, vulnerability, suffering? It’s not what we want, but it’s the road we end up on over and over again. It’s the road we walk when we take risks for the sake of the gospel, when we stand in solidarity with those on the margins, when we lift our voices for the sake of our neighbors. And it is nothing short of amazing grace to know that Jesus meets us on that road and that he knows the way through to life. And not just life for us, but life for the whole world.
This is the life of the baptized—gathered into community with all creation, marked with the sign of the cross forever, united with Jesus in his death so that we might be raised with him to life, not just on some future day, but every single day of our lives.
“Those who love their life lose it, and those who hate their life in this world will keep it for eternal life,” Jesus says. In other words, those who desire, above all else, to preserve their own lives, will lose life in the process of trying to save it. And those who recognize that their lives are already saved, will experience true life.
My friend ended up doing what she felt called to do, abandoning self-preservation, risking criticism and rejection, for the sake of serving others and speaking truth to power. The love of God covered her fear with courage.
We have a Savior who knows what it is to be deeply troubled by death in all its many forms. He went to the cross for you. He draws you into the very heart of God. He leads you to those places and situations where your heart, no matter how nervous, is exactly what is needed to spread God’s reign of peace and justice.
He covers your fear with courage. He leads you through death to life. This is the road we talk together. Thanks be to God. Amen.