Snake on a Stick

 

Jesu Juva

Numbers 21:4-9                                                                

March 14, 2021

Lent 4B                                                                     

 Dear saints of our Savior ~

          Snakes have a way of getting our undivided attention. One summer day as a little boy, I was walking with my dad and my uncles through some pastureland on my grandmother’s farm. As they were clearing away some brush beneath a barbed wire fence, one of my uncles shouted something.  I didn’t hear what he said, but I had never seen a group of grown men move to so fast.  The word I hadn’t quite heard was “rattlesnake.”  One of my uncles had heard the rattle.  And our path through the pasture was quickly re-routed.  If one, single, solitary snake can command that much attention; imagine the possibilities for an entire plague of snakes.

          The Israelites didn’t have to imagine it.  Fiery serpents—venomous snakes—were on the loose in the camp.  It was a snake pandemic—a slithering brood of venomous vipers—hiding in dark corners of the tent, in the bedding, in the latrine.  Wherever you would least like to encounter an aggressive, poisonous snake—that’s precisely where the children of Israel were encountering them.  People were dying of snakebite left and right.  And no St. Patrick—no pied-piper—could get rid of these snakes because the Lord Himself had sent them.

          The snakes were God’s judgment upon the people—a grumbling, faithless, unthankful group.  They despised the manna that God provided six days a week.  They despised the water that God caused to flow from a rock.  They despised the freedom from slavery that God had secured through the Red Sea waters.  They despised the grace of God and the gifts of God.  So God sent snakes, lots of snakes (like something out of “Indiana Jones”).

          It didn’t take long before the terrified people came crawling to Moses with a confession on their lips:  “We have sinned,” they said, “for we have spoken against the Lord and against you.”  Confessing your sin is always a good place to start.  Tell the truth.  Admit it.  Stop making excuses.  Stop blaming others.  Then they asked Moses to intercede:  “Pray to the Lord, that He take away the serpents from us.”  And Moses prayed for the people.

          But the Lord didn’t give the people exactly what they wanted.  The Lord didn’t “take away” the snakes.  Their venom-filled fangs continued snapping at every ankle that happened along.  Instead, the Lord provided a cure—an anti-venom.  People who handle poisonous snakes for a living never do their work unless a supply of anti-venom is on hand, just in case.  But the anti-venom the Lord gave to the Israelites was far different from the injectable remedies we’re familiar with today.  Instead, Moses was to make a bronze serpent and set it on a pole, “and everyone who sees it, when he is bitten, will live.” 

          That bronze “snake on a stick” was a kind of sacrament.  It was a visible element, instituted by God, which brought forgiveness and life to everyone who looked at it.  Everyone who looked at the bronze serpent on the pole would live, and not die.  How can a bronze serpent do such great things?  It wasn’t the bronze serpent that did them, but the Word of God in and with the bronze serpent that did them.

          So what exactly does this mean for us, as we sit comfortably in what we hope is a snake-free sanctuary this morning?  Well, hopefully it leads us to confess all those times when we have been thankless—when we have grumbled against the Lord—when we have despised the grace of God and the gifts of God.  But, strangely enough, I think this account also makes us think about evangelism in a whole new light. I think this account convicts us—convicts us of complacency when it comes to connecting people with Jesus Christ.

          Imagine that you were an Israelite.  Your best friend, your relative, your co-worker is lying on the ground in agony, just bitten by one of those fiery serpents.  Death was perhaps only minutes away.  What would you do?  Wouldn’t you do whatever it took to get that dying person to lift up his eyes, look at the snake on the stick, and live?  Or what if you yourself had been bitten—and survived—because you did that very thing?  You looked at the bronze serpent and you lived.  Don’t you suppose you would be eagerly, actively helping and encouraging and inviting your fellow snakebite victims to do the same thing?  Wouldn’t you be urging them with intensity to listen, look, and live?  You wouldn’t take “no” for an answer!

          Beloved in the Lord, how many friends, relatives and co-workers do you know who are on the road to hell?  As for you, you hear and believe the Word of God.  You look to the cross of Christ in faith.  You will live forever.  Christ be praised!  But how many unbelievers do you know?  How many do you share your life with who do not hear the Word, or look to the cross, who will one day die eternally?  Have you broached the subject of the Savior with them?  Have you ever invited one of those people to join you right here sometime—to listen, look and live?

          We have a million good excuses for not doing so:  It would be socially awkward.  I might come off sounding judgmental. It might expose me to ridicule.  I don’t want to impose my private beliefs on anyone else.  Really?!  When the Israelites were dropping dead from snakebite, and there was a surefire way to save them, I don’t think anyone was concerned about being socially awkward or imposing their beliefs on others.

          In fact, grab a copy of the bulletin and take another look at the artwork on the cover.  It’s not a perfect reproduction, but you get the idea.  Look at the people on the right.  Some of them are covered with snakes.  And those same snake-covered people have their eyes firmly focused on the bronze snake on the pole. 

Can you imagine how hard that would be?  To have a venomous snake crawling up your pant leg or wrapped around your arm and to NOT look at the snake—to take your eyes OFF the attacking reptile to look squarely at something else in the distance?  You wouldn’t do it.  You couldn’t do it.  Not unless someone helped you.  Not unless someone who loves you would tell you to lift up your eyes, and look and live. 

          And those people are also pictured on the cover—the ones who are inviting, pointing, and directing the dying to the snake on a stick—those who aren’t afraid to direct others to the gift of life.  And if you and I aren’t willing to be those kinds of people—if we are unwilling to point our neighbors to Christ—to invite them to church—or (worse) if we just don’t care about them—then we have to ask why.  How can we care so little?   How can we be so loveless?

          God is just the opposite:  God so loved the world that He gave His only Son, that whoever believes in Him should not perish but have eternal life.  For God did not send His Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through him.

          All of humanity is snake-bitten—you and I included.  It’s been that way since Adam and Eve listened to the serpent back in Genesis 3.  We were born with the venom of sin coursing through our veins.  But God has provided the cure—a cure that looks a lot like the disease:  His Son on the cross, bearing our sin, dying and damned in our place—stricken, smitten and afflicted—as our sacred substitute—just as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness.

          That is how God loves this snake-bitten world.  He doesn’t love it in a general kind of way.  He loves the world in a very specific way:  He gave His Son, Jesus Christ.  The Father didn’t send His Son to condemn the world, but to be condemned for the world.  His condemnation is your acquittal.  His guilt is your innocence.  His death means life for you.  He came to be lifted up on the cross and to draw all people to Himself.  Just as Moses lifted up the snake in the wilderness, so must the Son of Man be lifted up, that whoever believes in Him may have eternal life.

          Jesus is the antidote—the anti-venom for the sin of the world.  And do you know how anti-venom is produced?  Small amounts of a snake’s venom are injected into a horse or goat.  Then, as the animal builds up immunity to the venom, its antibodies are collected.  In other words, the anti-venom—the cure—comes from one who has survived the poison.  Beloved in the Lord, Jesus has survived the poison.  Jesus took the sting of sin and death.  He suffered, died and was buried.  But on the third day He rose again from the dead.  He survived the poison.  He Himself is the cure you need.

          And this is the place where we give it away for free.  This is the place where all you need do is listen, look and live.  The anti-venom is right here in the water of baptism.  Right here in the forgiveness of sins.  Right here in the body and the blood of Jesus.  The invitations you extend for others to join you here may fall on deaf ears.  You might invite dozens before even one joins you to listen and look and live.  But the results of our inviting are in God’s hands.  He sent His Son to save the world.  So look to the Son and live.  Point others to Him that they—like you—may be saved by grace, through faith, for Jesus’ sake. 

          In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.