The Character of Jesus

Sermon - Maundy Thursday

Well, he’s dead. He’s dead and buried. That’s that. Nothing left to do but to go home, let Saturday the Sabbath pass, prepare the spices and the ointments, give him a decent burial…a final viewing, Sunday.

So thought they all.What a week it had been. The character of Jesus shone. Nothing could deter him. His jaw was set.

Somehow the events of that very bad Friday (tomorrow), would one day be known as the events of Good Friday, but we’re getting ahead of ourselves.

The character of Jesus…the presence of Jesus.

Nothing has shone more brightly during these Lenten days, than the character of Jesus. “Character” is what we see when we see a person who will not be deterred, a person whose jaw is set, a person who knows what he’s doing and does not count the cost.

The character of Jesus…the presence of Jesus, are one and the same.
Count the characters in our lesson this evening---five of them.

1. Simon of Cyrene, compelled to carry the cross of Jesus, has another name: Your name, my name.

He was never the same man after he carried the cross of Jesus. You have never been the same, either, since the day you were compelled, forced against your will, made to carry someone else’s cross, which quickly became your cross forever.

Why? Because Simon carried that cross in the presence of Jesus, and the character of Jesus would forever haunt him.

2. Simon of Cyrene, heard Jesus speak to the women who were following them. Get the parade in your mind straight. Jesus was in front, then Simon of Cyrene with the cross, then the women behind both of them. When Jesus turned to the women, Simon of Cyrene was right in the middle of the action.

They “were women who were beating their breasts and wailing for him (Jesus).”
“Daughters of Jerusalem,” said Jesus, “do not weep for me, but weep for yourselves and for your children.”

Jesus saw the destruction of their city coming, days of terror so bad that women without children would be more blessed than women with children, for those with children would be burying their own sons and daughters. Even on that long route up Calvary, deliberately made as long as possible, the character of Jesus, the presence of Jesus, shone far beyond his own predicament.

In the center of three crosses, nailed like a bat to a tree, wings, arms outstretched, Jesus was forced to pray. It was in his character. He always prayed when things got tough, and on that cross he prayed at least four times.

The first time he prayed, this is what he said: “Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing.” Not a single soul had thought about asking for forgiveness.

Not a single soul.

A person of character, of Christ-like character, does not make a person beg for forgiveness. It is offered before the other even knows it’s needed.

Much mockery followed. You know how it works, like gossip, like comedians on late night TV where nothing is holy. Leaders scoffed: “He saved others, let him save himself. Roman soldiers scoffed: “If you are the King of Jews, save yourself.”

3. Even one of the criminals being crucified along side said the same thing: “Are you not the Messiah, save yourself AND US!” Who could see the character of Jesus now…who could sense His presence? It was that other thief, dying, but not without character himself. A bit of Jesus was rubbing off on him. He saw what was happening, saw beyond the facts of the day to the spirit of the moment. He speaks to his comrade in crime:

“Do you not fear God. We’re getting what we deserve. This man has done NOTHING WRONG.”
And then he speaks to Jesus what we’ve sung all Lent: “Jesus, remember me, when you come into your kingdom.”
Have you heard the reply of Jesus, who is still “in character” still looking beyond himself to all who sing that refrain? If not, hear it now: “Truly, I say to you, paradise for you and me.”

Paradise?

From the cross he can see “paradise?”

Well, yes. Not only see it, but open it up for others. Criminals, thieves, the likes of you and me. Before three o’clock in the afternoon, when the crucifying was done, three more prayers were forced from the heart of Jesus. Each is a sermon in itself, for which we do not have the time now.

“My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”
“It is finished” (Which means, “It is accomplished”).
“Father, into thy hands, I commit my Spirit.”

In this last of the prayers, Jesus was committing his true self, his character, his presence, his labor, his belief that God is love, and that love would have the last word. The last word on Golgotha that we have recorded was a word of praise, a prayer, if you will,

4. by a Centurion who sensed the very Spirit of God on a tree. “When the centurion saw what had taken place, he PRAISED GOD, and said, “Certainly this man was innocent.””
In Mt. 27:54 the text says, “Surely, this man was God’s Son.”

5. Joseph of Arimathea, a good and righteous man, asked Pilate for the body of Jesus. What a man of character. Not only does Scripture say he was “a good and righteous man,” but also, “he was waiting expectantly for the kingdom of God.”

He put Jesus into the tomb he had prepared for himself. In those days you were not a real man until you had built your own home, AND purchased your own tomb.
The wailing women are back in our story. They noted it all. The Sabbath was near, so they rested, according to the commandment.

Sad Sabbath, sad Saturday, a sadder Sunday was planned. In closing, a few questions to ponder, then a true story.

First the questions:
Have you not found yourself in the middle of a muddle, like:

(1.) Simon of Cyrene, with Christ on one side and wailing on the other, carrying a load you really don’t want, yet noting, in faith, that the person of character is using you and building up your character anyway?

Have you not heard Jesus pray for you, from the cross, “offering forgiveness”, before you’ve had a clue you ought to let your character be reformed by grace…amazing grace?

(2.) Have you not, like a thief on a cross, hung on both sides of Jesus, sometimes in doubt, and sometimes in faith, but caught up in the middle of knowing that a divine presence was noting you, and changing your character, forever?

(3.) Have you not, on at least one occasion, known, like the centurion, caught up in the middle of a day’s work, that Jesus truly is the Son of God, truly is your Lord and Saviour, like it or not?

(4.) Have you not, like Joseph of Arimathea, been caught in the middle of a dilemma, had a moment of Christ-like character, that you were able to give up something as precious as you own resting place, for him?

(5.) Have you not had to postpone your grieving, do difficult tasks, like the women, caught in the middle of your grieving, having to attend to this or that, like the women, having to prepare spices and ointments, because it was what character {presence} demanded of you?

If you’ve answered yes to only one of these questions, then perhaps you’ve had an experience like this one.

Come to our home in Summit County, Colorado, late March, where we lived years ago, in the high country. The elevation of the home is 9,280 feet, but we are hiking higher, because it’s a sunny day, and a thaw is underway.

We hike up toward Buffalo mountain, still too icy to climb, but pass through some trails used earlier for cross-country skiing. There is no one else around. It is too early for most to think about hiking, but it’s been a long winter. Everything is black or white, with only the evergreen reminding you of color.

So much snow is on ground and in the pines, but water has begun to flow. Then you see it, a touch of color more vivid than the white of snow, the dark of stone, the green of pine: One flower, blooming bright, the American pasqueflower, lavender blossoms with golden centers, similar to a garden crocus, but not related to it at all.

It is the most beautiful, conspicuous flower of spring, and it has character, because it pushes its bud and flower right out of the frigid snow.

Pasqueflower.
Passover flower.
Near the end-of-Lent flower.
Blooming, because it’s been made to do so, by a Creator who notes it where few people ever walk. And if you see one, you’ll never forget it, because it seems remarkably out of place, out of time.

If you see one, you will give thanks, because you will be forced to speak about it to Almighty God. And if you can’t get to Colorado this March or April, you might have to look elsewhere for this plant of character, this chip off the old cross, and look for a person you know who has borne a cross, accepted forgiveness, wept in grief, and looked expectantly for the kingdom of God.

Ah, there’s one…and another!
Pasqueflower there!
Pasqueflower here.
Passover flowers everywhere!
You count them. What beautiful, beautiful, caught in the middle, Christ-like characters you are.