Good Friday Forever Settles God's Identity

Hi Friends,

I am humbled by messages like the one I recently received:

Jason, I want to thank you from the bottom of my heart for your ministry. You’ve made such a difference in my life. Eight years ago (so, 2016) I was one of the Bible teachers at my church and being prepared to be a pastor. Like you, I believe that we have to “give them the goods” every time. And I so did. Then, something happened. I found myself swimming against a rising tide of more vocal political opinions and science denial. I left my church, disillusioned. I became less certain, I began to question, and eventually I began to deconstruct. And soon, I was going too far. Then the Lord led me to you. Finding you really was providential. You are so correct when you say that nobody drifts toward the gospel. All of a sudden, it was me who needed to be given the goods. Thankfully, you did. It’s not an exaggeration to say that the Lord used you to save my faith. So - again - thank you.

— Steve

Steve’s exhibit A. Getting the gospel right and getting the gospel out is a matter of death and life. Help do both:

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Mark 15.21:

“They compelled a passer-by, who was coming in from the country, to carry his cross; it was Simon of Cyrene, the father of Alexander and Rufus.”

Simon is how most people participate in injustice.

We’re just bystanders and passersby until, like a wave crashing over us, evil’s undertow pulls us into it.

Simon must be on pilgrimage to Jerusalem to celebrate the Passover. Cyrene is a colony in Libya. Simon has come a long way only to find himself pulled from the crowd and compelled to carry the instrument of torture and death by which the best and brightest of Church and State, along with their enabling mob, will murder God. It’s tempting to imagine Simon’s act captured on video and streamed onto social media. If Good Friday took place in the twenty-first century instead of the first, how many observers would cancel Simon of Cyrene, dox him, or charge him as complicit in the miscarriage of justice?

Mark characterizes Simon as a passerby, which could mean either he is an onlooker in the crowd, intrigued or intimidated by the ghastly spectacle or it could mean he’s like those in Jesus’s parable who passed by the man in the ditch, too busy to be bothered by the brutality in the street.

Did Simon join the crowd when they shouted, “Crucify him!”We do not know.We do know Simon did not shout, “Do not crucify him!”No one so shouted, “Do not crucify him!”

Likewise, not everyone betrayed Jesus for pieces of silver but no one attempted to buy his release.

Mark does not report that Christ needed someone to carry his cross:

“They began saluting him, ‘Hail, King of the Jews!’ They struck his head with a reed, spat upon him, and knelt down in homage to him. After mocking him, they stripped him of the purple cloak and put his own clothes on him. Then they led him out to crucify him. They compelled a passer-by, who was coming in from the country, to carry his cross; it was Simon of Cyrene, the father of Alexander and Rufus.”

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Mark does not say that the Lord Jesus needed Simon to carry his cross.

Earlier in the week, on Palm Sunday, Jesus did not need the disciples to lift him and place him on the donkey— it was only a foal; he could swing his leg over it. Nevertheless, Jesus humbly submitted to them and allowed them to lift him onto the ass. At the beginning of his ministry, Jesus did not need to be baptized with John’s baptism. He had no sins to repent. Nevertheless, Jesus humbly submitted to John and allowed him to wash away his sins. There is no indication in Mark’s Gospel that the Lord Jesus needs Simon’s help; nevertheless, Jesus humbly submits and makes a place for this passerby in his passion. As Cyril of Alexandria says, the wonder is that Jesus, the Beloved, not only shares with us what is his, but also includes us in who he is.

In this detail, Simon helping Jesus, the Gospel wants you to see not the uniqueness or honor of Simon but the constancy and steadfastness of Jesus.

Even now, Jesus is who Jesus has always been. He humbly submits and accommodates Simon though he needs him not. The Gospel wants you to see not the distinctiveness of Simon’s character—we don’t know anything about him. The Gospel wants you to see instead the consistency of Christ’s identity, the Man for Others, always.

As many in my parish know, Gary Sherfey’s last words to his wife were, “I love you.” For that matter, Gary’s last words to me also were, “I love you.” To those who know Gary, such a benediction sums up his life perfectly. Conversely, if Gary had left this life striking a discordant note (“I hate you. Get out of here. Shut the hell up!”) it would have unsettled the entire story by which we know and name Gary.

Before we glean any other meaning from Good Friday, we can and must say this much:Christ’s death forever settles his identity.

What the tradition labels “atonement theories,” explanations for how Christ reconciles us to God, nearly all suffer the same fatal defect; namely, they do not start straightforwardly from the Gospel narratives. The Gospel of Mark, for example, permits us to draw no other conclusion from the crucifixion other than the fact that Jesus’s death brings an end to Jesus’s life. Therefore, Mark’s Gospel allows us to assert at least this premise: Christ’s death permanently settles his identity. 

Until the story comes to an end, it is not settled whose story will have been written. What if George Washington had betrayed his country in his old age? What if Abraham Lincoln had gone home after the play only to bungle Reconstruction? What if Jesus had said no to Pilate’s question, “Are you the King of the Jews?” What if Christ had heeded the crowd and come down off his cross?

That the Man for Others died rather than seek his own kingdom settles that he is the Man for Others, always.The Lord Jesus can never now be other than who he was.

Correlatively, this means you can never now be otherwise. You are right now and you always will be one the Man for Others is for.

Straightforwardly, Christ’s death brings an end to Christ’s life.

In so doing, Jesus’s death settles Jesus’s identity.

From this simple premise, Martin Luther constructed an equally simple theory of the atonement.

Jesus died, Luther argues in the Babylonian Captivity of the Church, in order to transform all his promises into a testament.

Of course the distinguishing feature of a last will and testament is that it becomes binding and irrevocable exactly because the promise-maker has died. By settling his identity once and for all, Jesus’s death removes Jesus’s promises from any possibility of retraction or qualification. His unconditional promises cannot be undone. Because he died, the Risen Jesus has no choice but to execute the promises of Mary’s son.

This is the basis and authority on which I can declare the entire forgiveness of your sins because the identity of the Lord is a settled matter. This is the basis on which we must pray today for the likes of Caiphas and Judas and Pontius Pilate and Simon of Cyrene (assuming his motives were as mixed as ours always are).

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