Series: Names of Wondrous Love
Ash Wednesday
February 13, 2013
Dear friends in Christ.
Imagine with me, for a moment, a scene that took
place back in eternity. A scene that
took place even before the Lord created the heavens and the earth. Imagine with me, the Father speaking to his
beloved Son and saying, “Son, the only way to free mankind from sin’s curse is
for you to take on human flesh and put yourself in mankind’s place; to become a
speck of cells in a woman’s womb and to be born as a helpless child; to become
a man so that you can be the perfect substitute for mankind, not only under the
law, but also on the cross so that every lawbreaking sinner deserves.” Though we really don’t know how the dialogue
went back in eternity when the Lord God was planning for the salvation of the
human race, even before he had created us, we do know the Son’s response. It was willing obedience to his Father’s plan
and wondrous love for unlovable sinners, love far beyond our comprehension.
So, when the time came and Christ, who is God from
all eternity became true man, he didn’t give up his deity. Rather, he added our humanity to his
person. He became the God-man, one
person with both a divine nature and a human nature. This was the miracle behind the divine plan
of salvation. As God, it was Christ who
gave the laws. As man, he was subject to
them. As the God-man, his perfect
keeping of the law was applied to you and me.
As God, he could not die. As man
he was mortal. As the God man he did
die, and with his holly, precious blood, he made the full payment that was
demanded for our sins.
Nearly seven hundred years before his birth, God
used his prophet to put a name on this miracle when Isaiah foretold, The virgin
will be with child and will give birth to a son, and will call him
Immanuel." (Isaiah 7:14, NIV84)
Roughly nine months before Jesus’ birth, the angel repeated these same
words to Joseph. The baby would be
Immanuel, the name that very simply means, “God with us.”
When Jesus was on earth not many recognized him as
Immanuel, because he had put aside the use of his divine powers. He still had them, but he only made use of
them occasionally so that he could walk the road to Calvary. But on that night at the Garden of
Gethsemane, we get a glimpse of God with us.
I wonder what Malchus, the high priest’s servant would tell us about
Jesus? Fingering his ear that had been
sliced off by the rash swoop of Peter’s sward and then sealed back on by Jesus’
loving hand I can only imagine Malchus wondering, “Who is this Jesus anyway?”
When the soldiers who came forward to bind Jesus’
hands and lead him away they must have been wondering about Jesus as well. How different this arrest was! They had come with their lanterns to comb
through the shadows of the garden to find a dangerous criminal, only to have
him walk out to meet them. They had come
ready to fight off his followers only to hear him tell his followers to put
their weapons away. But strangest of all
was how they had been knocked to the ground when they heard Jesus say, “I am
he.” How they must have stepped forward
somewhat hesitantly to slap the handcuffs on him. While they ended up arresting
him, they could hardly say they had overpowered him. It was more as if he was
letting them arrest him. It was more
like he was going with them willingly. If they had been students of the Old
Testament, they might have recalled the words of Isaiah chapter 53, “He was led
like a lamb to the slaughter, and as a sheep before her shearers is silent, so
he did not open his mouth” (v. 7). No, this was no ordinary man whom they were
arresting. This was Immanuel, the God-man in wondrous love going silently,
willingly to the slaughter.
What about the One who was arrested? What would he
say? He could hardly say, “I didn’t know where it would all lead to.” In verse
4 of our text, we are told, “Jesus, knowing all that was going to happen to
him, went out and asked them, ‘Who is it you want?’” The God-man knew what was
coming. He knew about the cruel punches that would bruise his face. The sharp
thorns that would rip his scalp. The sadistic whip that would chew up his back.
The cruel nails that would puncture his flesh. The fires of hell that would
sear his soul. He knew all this, and yet he willingly let them tie his hands.
Nor could he say, “I couldn’t do anything else.” This was the almighty Lord,
who with one snap of his fingers could have had more than 72,000 angels there
to surround him and who with one sentence had already placed his would-be
captors on the ground.
We really don’t have to ask what Jesus would have
said that night in the garden. He had already said it earlier. In John 10:17,18
he declared, “The reason my Father loves me is that I lay down my life—only to
take it up again. No one takes it from me, but I lay it down of my own accord.
I have authority to lay it down and authority to take it up again.” Jesus would
speak to us of willingness, of willing love for sinners that tied his hands
tighter than any rope, of willing love for sinners that compelled him to carry
out the Father’s plan of salvation.
This is Jesus, our Savior. This is Immanuel, God with us. He is not a God who is far off in the
heavens, glancing at us from time to time across the miles. Rather He is our
God who is here with us to free us from our sins. He is our God who stands before us in his
Word with those comforting words: “Go in peace, your sins are forgiven.” He’s
there in his Holy Supper, giving us the very body and blood that he used to pay
for our sins. Our Immanuel has promised never to leave us or forsake us, but to
surround us with his forgiveness.
He’s “God with us” also in our troubles. He is the
one who knows what they are like because he suffered many of them himself. Is
it grief caused by the loss of a loved one? He knows, having wept at the grave
of his friend Lazarus. Is it temptation that never seems to leave us alone? He
knows, as one who faced Satan’s relentless attacks from the beginning to the
end of his earthly ministry. Is it loneliness brought on by unfaithful friends?
He knows, having experienced the betrayal of a Judas and the denial of a Peter.
Not only does he know but he can do something about our troubles as the God-man
who can do anything.
He’s “God with us” also in our feeble attempts at
serving him. When it’s two steps forward and three steps backward on the path
of sanctified living, he knows. When it’s our old sinful nature getting once
again the upper hand in daily battle with our new man, he knows. He’s there to
whisper in our ears, “Don’t give up. Remember, I have already paid for your
sins, and I remember your failings no more. Remember that I’m here to
strengthen you through Word and sacrament so that you can walk more closely
with me. Remember I am Immanuel—‘God with you.’”
And he will be “God with us” when our last moment
comes. We know not when that time will be. But we do know who will be there at
our side when it comes. When the walk through the valley of the shadows faces
us, what comfort to be able to say, “I will fear no evil, for you are with me.”
What comfort to know that he’s well acquainted with the valley of death because
he has walked it before us. What comfort to know that though the shadows may
threaten us, they can’t harm us because he has paid for sin and conquered
death. What comfort to know our walk will end in heaven at his side where we
can say to him whose love has brought us there, “Now I am always with you.”
We can’t leave the Garden of Gethsemane without one
more look at our Immanuel. Listen to what he’s telling us in his wondrous love.
“Don’t you see,” he tells us, “I let them tie me that I might untie you.” “Don’t
you see,” he says, “with the crimson scissors of my blood I’ve cut through the
cords of sin that bound you hand and foot for Satan’s service and for hell’s
confinement.” “Don’t you see,” he says, “you’re free—free from sin, free from
Satan, free from death, free to live for me on earth, and free to live with me
in heaven.”
Lord, help us never to lose sight of our Immanuel
and of his wondrous love.
Amen.
Pastor
David M. Shilling
Grace Evangelical Lutheran
Church--Le Sueur, MN
