We Wish to See Jesus

In Nomine Iesu
St. John 12:20-43
April 9, 2017
Palm Sunday (Confirmation)

Dear brothers and sisters in Christ Jesus,
And especially those of you confirmed in the faith this morning: Elizabeth, Justin, Benjamin, Leah, Keagan, and Maren~

Sir, we wish to see Jesus. No sooner had Jesus dismounted His donkey—no sooner were the

palm branches being picked up and the shouts of “hosanna” dying down—than a group of Greeks came to Philip with a request: Sir, we wish to see Jesus. We aren’t told exactly why these Greeks wanted to see Jesus. Like everyone else who squeezed into Jerusalem for the Passover feast that year, they had probably heard about how Jesus had raised Lazarus from the dead just days earlier. And since these Greeks had come to town for the Passover, it’s reasonable to assume that they knew what the Old Testament had to say. They knew that the Messiah was coming; and perhaps they had dared to believe that this Jesus was the King they had been waiting for.

Whatever their motivation, their request was right on: Sir, we wish to see Jesus. That’s what we want, too, every time we come here to the Divine Service. We, also, wish to see Jesus—to experience the Savior’s mercy and love, to cast our cares on Him and feel the burden of our sin taken away—as far as the east is from the west. I once preached from a pulpit where those words were inscribed so that the preacher would see them every time he preached: Sir, we wish to see Jesus—a reminder to the preacher to give his hearers what they needed, namely, Jesus. That’s also why six young people are being confirmed today—because they, too, wish to see Jesus, even as they are already seen and loved by Him. We all wish to see Jesus.

Jesus’ response, at first, must have caused their hearts to swell with excitement: The hour has come for the Son of Man to be glorified. That’s exactly what they wanted to hear! The palm branches, the hosannas—this was the real Jesus, the royal Jesus. The Romans were on the way out and the kingdom of God was on the way in, with blaze of heavenly glory.

But as Jesus kept talking about “glory,” it quickly became apparent that “glory” doesn’t mean what we think it means. He talks about a seed falling into the earth and dying. He talks about losing His life. He talks about being “lifted up from the earth” and drawing all people to Himself. Of course, He said all this to show by what kind of death he was going to die. Jesus describes His impending crucifixion as His hour of glory. It’s as if Jesus was telling His Greek admirers—and all of us who wish to see Him—that you can’t see Jesus or fully know Jesus apart from His crucifixion cross. That cross is why the Father sent His Son into our flesh. He humbled Himself by becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross.

If you want to see Jesus and know Him fully, then see His suffering and death in all of its glory. Those two words, death and glory, don’t ordinarily go together in our way of thinking. For us, glory means basking in the spotlight, fame and fortune. Glory is winning, not losing—and certainly not dying. But the glory of Jesus is centered at the cross. The glory of Jesus doesn’t shine; it bleeds. It bleeds for you and for your salvation.

But that kind of glory—bleeding glory, crucifixion glory—it just doesn’t seem very glorious to us; and that’s a big problem. Sin has warped our view of things so severely that important things—things divine—holy things—well, they don’t seem divine or holy to us. The holy cross doesn’t always seem holy to us. We like decorative crosses, precious moments crosses, pretty jewelry crosses made of gold and silver. But big crosses with bloody corpses we’re not so fond of.

But when it comes to the cross of Jesus, we can actually learn a few things from the enemies of the cross—enemies of the Christ and His church. I read an article in National Review last week about the Christian communities in northern Iraq. Christianity has existed in Iraq since apostolic times—long before it existed here. But three years ago, as ISIS moved in, these Christians had to flee for their lives with only the clothes on their backs. But the Islamic State has been in retreat as of late, and now a few brave Christians are returning home to sift through the rubble and ashes. In the town of Karemlash, as the author surveyed the blackened walls of a firebombed church, he made this observation: “Perhaps the most powerful symbol I came across in Karemlash was the defaced Cross. Everywhere, in all the churches and monasteries I visited, the Cross was defaced, scratched out, broken, or pierced with bullet holes. ISIS had spray-painted the message ‘the Cross will be broken’ on the walls of the rectory, and the pastor’s office door was booby-trapped, to kill him when he returned.”

What triggered the wrath and rage of the Islamists more than anything? The cross of Jesus—the tool of torture on which Jesus was lifted up for the sins of the whole world. That’s the lynchpin of the Christian faith. Everything hinges on what you believe and confess about Christ the crucified. Who do you say He is? What happened on the cross is what divides humanity. It’s either a stumbling block which causes men to fall, or it is the glorious source of your salvation. The cross divides, but at the same time, it’s the only thing that can truly unite us—with one another and with the God who loves us.

It’s ultimately the cross of Christ that distinguishes Christianity from every other religion. Mohammed had a few nice things to say about Jesus, but he denied the cross. Islam holds that Jesus never made it to the cross, that God sent in a last-minute substitute—a substitute for THE Substitute. Or consider the Latter Day Saints. They talk about Jesus. They have their temples and their meeting houses, but you won’t find a cross there to save your soul—let alone a Christ suffering upon it.

We Christians would do well to take note. Listen to Jesus and learn that He comes to die a death that is glorious—that His death is, at the same time, horrific yet holy, awful yet awesome, gory yet glorious. What appears to the world as just another tortured criminal at the killing grounds of Calvary is, in fact, the Son of God, lifted up from the earth, drawing you to Himself, paying the penalty of your sin. That moment is the defining moment in all of history, in which the Creator of all is sacrificed for all His creatures, to become their Redeemer. This is the bleeding glory of Jesus. And it is all for you.

And what about you—you the baptized—you who received the sign of the holy cross both upon your forehead and heart to mark you as one redeemed by Christ the crucified? How will you spend your days living as those marked by the holy cross? Jesus gives us a metaphor to live by: “Truly, truly, I say to you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains alone; but if it dies, it bears much fruit. Whoever loves his life loses it, and whoever hates his life in this world will keep it for eternal life.” On the one hand, Jesus Himself is that grain of wheat He was describing. Try to preserve it—or simply admire it—and you get nothing. But bury it in the ground and it rises to bear much fruit. That’s what was in store for Jesus during the days that followed Palm Sunday. He went the way of death and the grave like a seed buried in the ground. He lost His life only to take it up again three days later. And in His dying and rising Jesus has borne much fruit—your eternal salvation.

As it is for Jesus, so it is for all of us who follow Him in faith. We, too, are nothing more than grains of wheat—seeds in the Savior’s hands. You are seeds for Jesus. Of course, that doesn’t sound very “glorious.” Confirmation Sunday is really a seed—planting celebration. When our six confirmands were baptized all those years ago, they were planted—planted in the fertile soil of God’s grace and mercy. “For you died,” St. Paul told the Colossians about their baptism, “and your life is now hidden with Christ in God.” In baptism, you died. You were planted like a seed. To be a seed planted in the ground is to give up everything. You have no control, no power. You don’t call the shots. You’re like Lazarus who was stone-cold dead until Jesus came along and spoke His life-giving word. The fruit you bear in this life will only come as you (like Lazarus) hear the Savior’s voice—as you come here to “see Jesus” and hear His Word, and be fed with His precious body and blood.

To those being confirmed today, remember that you are a seed. Just a seed. It’s not about you. A seed is nothing; but Jesus is everything. Your job as a seed is to be planted and to receive the growth and life of Jesus. But we all struggle with that. We would rather be in control, calling the shots, pretending to be god in the place of God. When I was confirmed, Jesus to me was the one who helped me get good grades, be a good athlete, be popular, happy and successful. Even when we’re older and wiser, we’re still tempted to see Jesus as one whose job it is to make sure my life is the good life. If that’s your Jesus; you’ve got the wrong Jesus. He wasn’t lifted up on the cross to make your life the good life, but to give you eternal life—and to make you “good” with His own holiness and righteousness.

Why do the enemies of Christ hate the cross so much? It shows just how bad, how dire, our situation really is. It shows our sin and just how much we need a Savior. The first thing the ISIS warriors tear down and smear is the picture of Christ crucified. They know that’s where the ultimate war is waged. But you—you know that cross is where the war for your salvation was waged . . . and won by Jesus. He suffered under Pontius Pilate, was crucified, died and was buried. He descended into hell to proclaim His triumph over Satan and was raised on the third day never to die again. In Him you have been baptized. In Him you live forever.

Indeed, it’s true. We wish to see Jesus. And see Him we shall—on the last day, at the last trumpet, in the twinkling of an eye, with glorious, resurrected bodies. And at the name of Jesus every knee shall bow, in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father. Amen.