Triumph in disguise

by Dan Phillips

Our church has an annual Sunrise Service, 6:30a.m. the morning of Resurrection Day. We meet out front under a massive oak tree. We always have a decent turnout, though I'm a bit bewildered each year to see a lot of people who don't usually attend our church turn up for the Sunrise Service, then not return for the full morning service.

At any rate, it features a briefer message, shouted to be heard over the traffic, not recorded. This is a post-ized version of this year's Sunrise Service.

Let's suppose a person who hasn't read the Bible, and doesn't much know what’s in it. That isn't so hard to imagine, these days, is it? (Some of you are saying "Yeah, in fact I know a pastor like that." Behave.)

So let's say this Biblically-untaught person was told that God would send His Son to solve the dilemma of our planet — what kind of scenario might he come up with? What script might he write? It isn't too hard to imagine, I think.

Our Script

The Elements In Our Script.  It's easy to envision three scenarios:

Scenario One: In this version, God the Son assumes a Christophany, a temporary appearance in human form. He rides down to earth in a chariot of fire, conquers all the sinners, and sets up His kingdom. And there we have our happy ending!

Scenario Two: Perhaps our tale-weaver is aware of Christmas, so in the second version, God the Son indeed takes on human flesh, and is born...into the family of a wealthy, influential nobleman. It's one of the leading families in Israel, so He grows, winning partisans from the nation, amassing a huge following made up of Jews and Gentiles alike.

Then, when He reaches manhood, He declares Himself King, smashes Rome, conquers all the sinners and sets up His kingdom. And there we have our happy ending!

Scenario Three: In this telling, God the Son doesn’t go anywhere. Why should He? He’s God the Son! He doesn’t have to leave His throne to get this done!

So, from His throne in Heaven, the Son of God simply exercises His power, conquers all the sinners and sets up His kingdom. And there, once again, we have our happy ending!

The Results Of Our Script. Now that you've read those all over, can you pick out the one recurring phrase in all three scenarios that poses just one itty-bitty problem for us, for you and for me?

It’s where I said, each time, “…conquers all the sinners and sets up His kingdom”

So here's the problem: How many of us are sinners? Correct: 100%.

We know that sin is a big deal to our holy, righteous God. So if we're going to avoid being conquered, we have to do something about our sin. What can we do? Repent? Lovely thought, but it won't do anything about past sin. If I owe you $500000, then say I'm sorry, I still owe you $500000. 

So how about if I become perfectly righteous and never sin again? That won't work, since that is what I was supposed to be all along.

Shall I offer a lamb or an ox? Can the blood of bulls and goats take away sin? No.

What this means, then, is this:

• Who would He have had to “conquer,” to set up His kingdom? Everyone. You. Me. All of us.
• Who would be left to populate His kingdom? No one. Not me. Not you. None of us.

Now we're ready better to appreciate, by contrast...

God’s Script (Philippians 2:5-11)

This script unfolds in two grand movements.

Christ Humbled Himself (vv. 5-8). So far from riding in as conquering King, Christ lowered Himself to a virtually unimaginable degree, and that in two ways:

By incarnation (vv. 5-7).

Have this mind among yourselves, which is yours in Christ Jesus, ⁶ who, though he was in the form of God, did not count equality with God a thing to be grasped, ⁷ but emptied himself, by taking the form of a servant, being born in the likeness of men.

Incarnation was not a promotion for the Logos. It was a step down of infinite degree. But that isn't the full extent of it.

By crucifixion (v. 8).

And being found in human form, he humbled himself by becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross.

He died a death of such obscenity that Roman citizens wouldn't mention it in polite company, a death experienced only by the lowest, most contemptible dregs. A Roman would no more wear a cross around his neck than we would wear an aborted fetus or some other obscenity around ours.

Yet this is what He did, because this was the only way to deal with the sin problem. [I developed this theme much more fully in the morning service, a sermon titled Easter Certainties.]

God Exalted Christ (vv. 9-11). 

Therefore God has highly exalted him and bestowed on him the name that is above every name, ¹⁰ so that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, in heaven and on earth and under the earth, ¹¹ and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father.

As a consequence of His death on the Cross, Jesus Christ won the right to give repentance and saving faith to His people, to give forgiveness of sins, and to grant eternal life. And because of the suffering of death, He will indeed will rule and reign.

And the only reason the God-man can do that is because of the DISASTER of the Cross! It is as Herbert Schlossberg said: “The Bible can be interpreted as a string of God’s triumphs disguised as disasters” (Herbert Schlossberg, Idols for Destruction, p. 304, quoted by Doug Wilson).

The greatest disaster in all of history was the crucifixion of Jesus. And yet, that greatest disaster is the key and foundation to the ultimate victory! That is God's scenario.

So what happened on Good Friday was God’s plan, what happened on holy Saturday was God’s plan, and what happened on Resurrection Sunday was God’s plan. We serve a crucified, buried, and risen Savior.  And because He is all that, we are citizens of His coming kingdom.

All because of Jesus' triumph in disguise.

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Is "grace" the loveliest word? Perhaps not

by Dan Phillips

I have long heard (and long said) that the dearest word in a sinner's vocabulary is grace. Of course, I still believe it is a dear and a powerful word — but another word is challenging its place in my heart.

It's struck home as I have been preaching a series on the much-neglected letter to Titus. Among the many delights in this letter is Paul's repeated use of a particular title for Father and Son. Here are my translations of the relevant verses:

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1:3  but He made His word apparent in His own seasons, in the proclamation with which I myself was entrusted, by order of our Savior God;

1:4  to Titus, genuine child in accord with our shared faith: grace and[1] peace, from God the Father, and Christ Jesus our Savior.

2:10  not embezzling, but instead exhibiting all good faith, in order that they might adorn the doctrine of our Savior God in all respects.

2:13  looking forward to[2] the blessed[3] hope and appearance of the glory of our great God and Savior, Jesus Christ;

3:4  But when the kindness and philanthropy of our Savior God appeared,

3:6  Whom He poured out upon us richly through Jesus Christ our Savior,

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[1] Many Greek manuscripts have “mercy” instead of “and.”

[2] Or “eagerly awaiting.”

[3] Or “happy.”

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There it is, the glorious, lovely word: Savior.

Note how Paul alternates: first, he calls the Father Savior, then the Son; then the Father again, then the Son; and yet again the Father, then the Son. One pair in each chapter.

It is a lone word, but so packed with meaning, with instruction, with assurance.

First, in that word Savior lies all my humiliation and self-denial. Savior tells me that I am lost, helpless, hopeless, and without resources within. Savior informs me that I do not merely need God's assistance or encouragement. I am not in need of a Partner, a Helper, an Enabler. I don't need a Co-Signer.

My case is far, far worse. My lot is not unfortunate or challenged; it is a disaster and a devastation. No part of this process can be left with me nor entrusted to me. God does not stand on the shore, calling to me "Swim harder! You can make it!"

No, Savior tells me that I am floating placidly on the ocean bottom, without the least ability to do for myself. A hand out or a hand up would be wasted on me. Nothing less than a Savior will do.

And, second, God is that Savior. This word tells me that Father and Son have undertaken — not merely to try to save me, not to offer salvation to me, not to call me to salvation, but — to save me. This puts the entire burden of the entire enterprise on their shoulders.

And such shoulders! This is the Father who authored the entire plan of salvation in the dim ages of eternity past! This is the Son who mediated creation and carries out the Father's plan, which involves the Father pouring out the Holy Spirit on me richly (richly!) through Jesus the Son. Other shoulders would buckle; other would-be saviors could fail, would fail.

But if Father and Son commit themselves to be my Savior, is there any chance of failure, any possibility of my ultimately being lost? Were that the case, given that God is "the unlying God" (Titus 1:2), He could not in all honesty have taken on Himself the grand and glorious title of Savior. He would have had to style Himself "Salvation-Attempter," or "Good-Hearted Would-Be Rescuer," or "Benevolent Halfway Helper."

But glory to His name, both Father and Son created, chose, and called themselves by a title that proclaims hope and assurance: Savior.

This is worth a moment's more reflection. Suppose you were languishing in despair, and one of  your fellow sufferers cried, "We're saved! Help is on the way!"

"Who?" you gasp.

"A bureaucrat!" came the reply.

Would you rejoice?

Then suppose instead that the answer was "It's... wait... yes, it's God! It's the God who called the universe into being with a word, who gives life to all, who holds all the stars in His hand, and carries everything by the word of His power! God is coming to save us!"

Would that be worth a cry of exultation?

That title Savior calls me to look away from myself, from my every effort and trait and attribute. It bids me leave off constant morbid introspections, incessant spiritual pulse-taking. It beckons me to look to Gethsemane, to see the Son committing Himself to drain every last drop from the cup. It points me to Calvary, where He hangs forsaken by the Father, not for His sins, nor to "try to" save me from my sins, but to be able to end it all with the glorious shout "It is finished!"

It directs me to look to Father and Son, and to call God not only Savior, which is marvelous enough; but, through the glorious Gospel, to call God my Savior.

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