by DanWolgemuth on March 22, 2024
Blame. The currency of exchange in political transactions.
Perhaps you’ve noticed.
Vision takes a backseat to blame. Whether it’s political ads, stump speeches, opinion columns… or just the pervasive attitude of the day. But don’t be confused, blame is not an invention of cable news, or social media, or a two-party system.
We can trace the roots of blame to Genesis 3. To the Garden of Eden…
The man said, “The woman whom you gave to be with me, she gave me fruit of the tree, and I ate.” Then the LORD God said to the woman, “What is this that you have done?” The woman said, “The serpent deceived me, and I ate.”
The woman.
The serpent.
Blame.
The shift of responsibility. The delegation of consequence.
A burden too damning to carry, shifted to the shoulders of others.
From the beginning. The problem.
From the beginning. A solution.
And Aaron shall lay both his hands on the head of the live goat, and confess over it all the iniquities of the people of Israel, and all their transgressions, all their sins. And he shall put them on the head of the goat and send it away into the wilderness by the hand of a man who is in readiness. The goat shall bear all their iniquities on itself to a remote area, and he shall let the goat go free in the wilderness. (Leviticus 16:21–22)
The cosmic shift of guilt. Iniquities transferred. A scapegoat.
A
precursor to the ultimate solution. A prophetic description by Isaiah.
“All
we like sheep have gone astray;
we
have turned—every one—to his own way;
and the LORD has laid on him
the iniquity of us all.”
The burden. Our sin. His shoulders.
Our guilt. His cross.
Our only “boast”, the cross of Christ. (Galatians 6:14)
Our only hope, His grace.
Sins carried. Justice satisfied. Without a goat.
By Jesus. “The iniquity of us all…”
Confession accomplishes what Aaron practiced. His hands on the head of a goat…
our honest admission on the head of our Lord.
Blame shifted. Atonement made. Forgiveness extended.
The Lenten journey continues. Humbling gratitude extended to the God who
redeems His creation.
Us.
Me.
Oh, what a Savior.
by DanWolgemuth on March 8, 2024
One of the criminals who were hanged railed at him, saying, “Are you not the Christ? Save yourself and us!” But the other rebuked him, saying, “Do you not fear God, since you are under the same sentence of condemnation? …for we are receiving the due reward of our deeds; but this man has done nothing wrong.” And he said, “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.” And he said to him, “Truly, I say to you, today you will be with me in paradise.” (Luke 23:39–43, ESV)
I’ve often heard people comment on the surprise that the announcement of the resurrection of Jesus was first communicated to women. In a male-dominated and “women-dismissing” culture, God chose women to be the first witnesses to the resurrection of Christ. A mind bender, and an equally enlightening strategy. The protocol of Jesus grates against the norms of power.
But before we arrive at an empty tomb, we have a gruesome cross. And it’s while Jesus is on the cross that we see a declaration of faith that is easy to overlook. The first clear crucifixion-informed declaration.
While a collection of family and close friends were witnessing the injustice of the execution of Christ, “a criminal” made a profession of faith. While the two men were gasping for air, while they were pressing through the final moments of excruciating pain, a nameless criminal confessed that Jesus was King. Without having witnessed three years of miracles, a criminal acknowledged that Jesus was on His way to His kingdom. The Kingdom.
At the moment when the faith of others was crumbling, a criminal verbalized his confidence in the power and position of Jesus. He went first.
“Jesus, remember me…”
What a declaration of faith. Pragmatic, for sure. But rooted in a confidence that the cross wasn’t the end for Jesus. Instead, it was a torturous gateway to paradise. A paradise that the confessing criminal wanted to experience.
“…we are receiving the due reward of our deeds; but this man has done nothing wrong.”
Judgment deserved and acknowledged. A miscarriage of justice, defined.
Faith on the cross. Faith while watching Jesus die. Faith in real time.
While others mocked and taunted, while others recoiled and lamented… a criminal pressed forward in faith. In hope.
“Remember me, when…”
Not if, but when.
A criminal on a cross got it. And yes, his request was granted. Likely the first saint to enter paradise after the death of Jesus. He entered forgiven. He entered as a free man.
This shortens my list of excuses. My reasons for doubt. My fragile faith. “A criminal” shows the way to hope. He moved toward confidence, even while Jesus was on the cross.
Yes, the women as witnesses, and yes, a criminal as a confessor of faith.
The strategy of Jesus presses against every norm of power. Then, and now. The Good News is the best news to those who are outcast. To the brokenhearted. To those on the margins.
Still in the classroom. Still amazed.
Remember me…