SITTING WITH JESUS

Hebrews 5:1-10

Fifth Sunday in Lent

April 2, 2006

We can probably thank elementary school teachers for training us so well. From kindergarten on, teachers use seating charts to organize their classes and become better acquainted with their students. After eight to twelve years of such training, we don’t seem to ever leave this lesson alone—we want a place where we sit.

If you don’t think it’s something that still forms adults, think about the last seminar or class you sat through that lasted more than one session. Very likely, when people came back from lunch, they sat in the same places they’d sat that morning. Those places have become comfortable and familiar. If the seminar lasts a second day, those folks will probably sit there again.

This applies to our church life, too.

Attending the church of my youth, my family always attended the 8 o’clock service and always sat eight rows from the front on the lectern side—Good Shepherd was long where Mount Olive is wide—in the middle of the pew (that way, you don’t have to move when others arrive). For years we sat in that place, it got so people saved it if we were late.

Then, when I moved away, everything changed. Suddenly, they were attending the 10:30 service and sitting on the pulpit side! I thought I was in a different church. I was totally out of sorts! It’s true here, too. I take attendance, looking out over the congregation. One Sunday, everyone was sitting someplace else. It was very confusing. Some of you might not have been given credit for your attendance.

There’s a negative side to feeling like you have a guaranteed place to sit. The congregation I served in El Paso went through some rough financial times. During those times, the decision was made to purchase new pews. Each family paid for a pew and a little plaque identifying that fact was affixed. That wasn’t a problem in the 1940’s. By the 1990’s it became one. Survivors of those families came to think of them as their pews. One ninety-plus year old lady chased a visitor out of her pew. Not very welcoming.

James and John are up to this sort of nonsense in the Gospel lesson today. Jesus has just explained about His cross—His suffering and His death, and the promise of resurrection. He’s talked about coming to serve His Father’s will for us. James and John come forward—as if Jesus hasn’t even spoken, ignoring all of that cross talk—and ask if they can sit at Jesus’ left and right in His glory. Skip the cross, they seem to say, let’s talk glory. Where’s our place? Where do we sit? Are we that different?

The author of the Letter to the Hebrews reminds us that it isn’t so important where we sit—or want to sit—what’s important is that Jesus sits with us. Jesus as our High Priest—the One who is Priest and Sacrifice—comes and sits with us. Because He does, we need not worry that we’re sitting through hard times or lonely times alone. We’re sitting with Jesus.

We would just as soon avoid those hard or lonely times. It’s our nature to flee suffering. That’s what James and John are up to in making this request to Jesus. They don’t want the cross—they want the glory. They want to look past this life with its loss and suffering, and go straight to heaven. They have Jerusalem in their sights and are jockeying for position in Jesus’ Kingdom they assume He’s come to conquer.

We who know this story well, we who have traveled Lent many times and know how the story goes, might be tempted to scold James and John. How could they, we might ask, after Jesus has just told them of the cross, miss it altogether? Are we that different from James and John?

We have whole denominations that try to step over or around the cross of Jesus. You’ll hear sermons about the “glory” of the cross. What nonsense! The cross is a horrible place of torment and death—there’s no glory there (grace, yes). These folks want to skip Lent and its focus on suffering and go right to heaven and its glory. They want heaven on earth, now.

So do you and me. Think about it. We say, “No pain, no gain,” but we think that microwave ovens are too slow. We talk about waiting and living in promise, but as a nation, our credit card debt is out-of-control because we don’t want to wait—we want to have it NOW.

We look at the cross but to look too long reminds us that we are sinners, ruined and unable to do anything about our ruin and weakness. The cross reminds us that we desperately need a Savior—we don’t like to think we can’t take care of things. We’d like to step around all of this—including the pain that supposedly gives gain—and talk about glory.

Jesus says the cross can’t be avoided. It can’t be stepped over or around. He will suffer at the hands of this world. He will be rejected, beaten and killed. We, baptized into Jesus, face the reality of the cross and live in this world that brings suffering, rejection and death to those who are members of the Body of Christ. How can we face such a reality?

You know by now that pastors are sort of different. When most fathers are proud of their children for sports or academics, pastors tell different stories. A friend of mine tells of his two sons. For some reason, the younger son—about eight or nine years in age—was very concerned about death. He announced in the car on the way home from church that he didn’t want to die. There’s an echo of James and John here—wanting to avoid the cross.

His older brother—about ten or eleven—responded in the blunt way that older siblings often do and also in that clear way that children often see things. “Too bad,” he said. “Everybody dies.” The cross must be faced. “But, don’t worry. You get raised at the end.”

Jesus faced the cross. He went there as Priest and Sacrifice. As Priest, He made a sacrifice for our sin. As the Sacrifice, He poured out His blood on the altar of the cross for our sin. He died so that our sin could be paid for and sin’s power over us broken. Then, He rose from the dead. He rose to assure us that, while the cross doesn’t go away, the cross isn’t the last word. Easter is.

You and I aren’t freed from suffering. We still live in the same world that rejected and beat up on Jesus. If you’ve ever left a dysfunctional system, you know that it rallies against you and you become the target of its rage. That’s sort of what happens when we’re in Christ. “But,” as my friend’s son said, “don’t worry. You get raised at the end.” We have Easter ahead of us.

When I was younger, my family moved often. No, it wasn’t because the police kept finding us. My father wanted new challenges and so asked for new assignments. So, I was often the new kid in school. That’s when you really appreciate seating charts. You have a place to sit. Except for lunch. When you’re the new kid and alone, who will sit with you?

It’s not just the loneliness of being the new kid, what about the loneliness of facing loss after the death of a loved one? What about when trouble comes and you really hurt or you face trial, and you feel the need to put the wagons in a circle, only to feel like you’ve closed everyone else out? Suffering leaves us feeling so all alone. Who will sit with us?

Remember what High Priests do. Jesus has offered Himself as the sacrifice for sin. You and I are forgiven. You don’t have to wonder if you feel alone because God is angry with you or punishing you. Jesus took God’s wrath and punishment on the cross for you and me. What you’re going through is what the world is throwing at you. You need Someone on your side.

Jesus, your High Priest, is that Someone. He comes and sits with you. He does this not because of some chart, but because He wants to sit with you. He brings His Father’s mercy and shows you His heart. He reminds you that He is for you and with you. He knows what it is to be human so He brings His compassion and forgiveness. He renews the promise of Easter for you.

Jesus tells James and John that, yes, they will undergo His baptism and drink from His cup. That’s Jesus’ way of telling them—and you and me—that suffering is part of what it means to be the Christ—and with the Christ and in Christ. He wants them and us to know that it’s not so important where you sit—or who you sit with. What matters is Who sits with you. We sit with Jesus. The One who brings Easter at the end of Lent.