Holy Week is upon us, and let me be very honest with you by saying it feels superbly silly to write a blog post when there is an abundance of Bible App content, church services, and chocolate bunnies that remind us that this time of year matters.
I thought about writing about the strange things that God does in my life each Lenten season (it’s quite a lot really, it involves feathers and forgotten friends and hospital visits and marked up Bibles… but those are other stories for another time.)
I often write about the incredible, shocking, overwhelming, thoughtful love of God. There’s enough to say about it to fill a thousand blog posts after all.
But today, I’ll go on the law heavy side, because selfishly, I need it.
Repent. For the Kingdom of God is at hand.
If Christ returned right now, would you be ready? Would you present yourself as a worker approved? What if he returned on Friday night? What would you be doing? Who would you be with? When was the last time you confessed your sins to the Father and asked for his forgiveness? If you’re honest, really honest with yourself… are you walking in darkness? Or in the light?
In the Lutheran liturgy, before the Divine Service, it’s encouraged to examine yourself according to the Ten Commandments. It’s a truly humbling experience. When it comes down to it, you find that you haven’t kept a single one, let alone all ten. Let’s do so, shall we?
Have you loved the Lord your God with all your heart, mind and soul and put nothing else before him? Not work, not ego, not friends, not money, not self care or self love or self in general?
Have you taken his name in vain? Misused it? Disrespected his holy name for use in your exclamations or swearing rather than prayer and praise?
Have you honored the Sabbath? When was the last time you went to church? When was the last time you set aside a day of rest and prayer? Said no to the world so you could say yes to Christ? Have you fasted? Prayed? Meditated?
What about your parents? Have you honored them? What that means for you may be different in your season of life, but none of the commandments, even this one, has a sunset clause.
Have you hated your brother? Then you are guilty of murder. Have you been angry with your friends, coworkers, neighbors, or family? Insulted them? Jesus goes so far to say you are liable to the hell of fire.
Careful… we’re only halfway there… and I’m 0 for 5.
Have you looked at someone lustfully, with a hunger to take rather than give? Have you touched what is not yours to have? Hidden yourself in the false anonymity of the internet?
What about theft? Have you taken something that’s not yours? Slacked off at work when you’re on the clock?
Have you gossipped? Slandered a neighbor? Spoken poorly of a friend or coworker? Have you assumed the worst about someone rather than speaking of them with charity and grace, giving them the benefit of the doubt?
Have you been discontent? Coveting the endless onslaught of false comparison we face every day in ads, internet, and the push we feel to keep up with the Jones’? Are you grateful for your home or dreaming of another upgrade? Are you grateful for your family or wishing they weren’t such a pain to care for? Are you content with your vocations? Or looking to escape the clear call of Christ?
If you’ve made it this far, I imagine your eye might have started twitching a bit like mine. I have failed on every single count. Endlessly. I was very young when I discovered the physical symptoms of anxiety, long before I had a word for it. I secretly called it my “guilty twitch” and it happened when I knew I’d done something wrong and was afraid my mom would find out. My knee would start bouncing involuntarily.
Writing this, my knee is bouncing.
Christ sees it all. All of it. Every slip, every stumble, every fall, every audacious leap into sin. The ones you are mistakenly proud of and the ones you are desperately ashamed of.
And you know what he says? “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.”
Even when you know what you’re doing is wrong, I’d venture we have no idea how deep the consequences run. Broken relationships, chronic illnesses, ruined reputations, all of it lies at the bottom of the slippery slope of sin.
That’s why Holy Week matters. It’s crucial to our salvation. That word sound familiar? Its root is in the Latin word crux, meaning cross. That’s where we get excruciating (literally, out of the cross, pain related to crucifixion), crucible (severe trial) and crucifix (fixed to a cross.)
Holy Week, and the events therein, is crucial to our very souls, marred by our own sin. Here, we are face to face with Jesus, Son of God and Son of Man, looking up at him as he gazes at us from the cross. “This is my body given for you. This is my blood, shed for you for the forgiveness of your sins.”
He dies an excruciating death, pleading the whole time before the Father to have mercy on us. To forgive us. To pardon us. To restore us to himself. And in the greatest miracle in the history of the world, God says yes. He chooses, because of Christ’s willingness to drink the cup of suffering, to see Christ and his righteousness when he looks at you, where he once saw only sin. Because of Jesus, his transference of holiness to all believers, he looks at you and says, “This is my son, in whom I am well pleased.”
How is this possible? How can it be?
If we confess our sins he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and cleanse us from all unrighteousness. (1 John 1:9) Now, it is no longer you, but Christ that lives in you, (Galatians 2:20) and if you confess with your mouth that Jesus is Lord and believe in your heart that God raised him from the dead and you will be saved. (Romans 10:9)
Repent. For the Kingdom of God is at hand. Turn away from these sins and fix your eyes upon the cross. That is where you’ll find freedom in Christ, forgiveness of sins, and life in abundance.
Amen.