The Best and Worst DAY In My Life Happened on the Same Day.
Every picture or statue I see of the
crucified Jesus, shows him with some type of loin cloth or partial robe. Even the movies that depict the execution,
show Jesus with clothing. However,
according to scripture and historical data, Jesus died on the cross, completely
naked.
It
amazes me how acceptable I find this falsehood of Jesus dying with some type of
ragged attire. I don’t want to see otherwise. If I visited a church with a nude Savior on a
mural or a stain glassed window, I would never attend that church again. Who wouldn’t feel this way? That’s why, in every representation, in the
known world, Jesus bears something on His flesh. Is it because of ugliness or the pornographic
nature of it? Is it too visceral? Is too unadulterated? Is it too real?
Jesus
sacrificed Himself for me. It sounds
like the title of a nursey rhyme read to kids at bedtime. But that’s not the whole truth. You can’t inject the true story of Jesus’s
death in a Children’s bible. It’s too
grimy. Too bloody. Too grotesque. Telling the real story would give children
nightmares.
Jesus emptied Himself of His glory and
immortality and power. He subjected
Himself to evil people. He withstood
beatings and flogging and the burrowing of His hands and feet. Then he suffocated as He hung from the wood
of which they sutured Him to. I would
think all that would suffice. Why did Jesus have to do it completely undressed?
It seems, at the very least, gratuitous.
There must be a reason.
Genesis
states Adam and Eve were created in the image and likeness of God.
Then God
said, “Let us make mankind in our image, in our
likeness, so that they may rule over the fish in the sea and the
birds in the sky, over the livestock and all the wild animals,[ and
over all the creatures that move along the ground.” - Genesis 1:26
The bible says they lived in the garden of
Eden without clothes and without shame. I
recall those illustrations well: Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie look-a-likes,
living in a nature preserve with leaves serendipitously covering their
clandestine parts. For thousands of
years we just assumed that we looked like Adam and Eve. And therefore, somehow, God looked like us.
But
the bible describes God’s likeness and image differently.
This is what Ezekiel said when He saw God:
Then
there came a voice from above the vault over their heads as they stood with
lowered wings. Above the vault over
their heads was what looked like a throne of lapis lazuli, and high above on
the throne was a figure like that of a man.
I saw that from what appeared to be his waist up he looked like glowing
metal, as if full of fire, and that from there down he looked like fire; and
brilliant light surrounded him. Like the
appearance of a rainbow in the clouds on a rainy day, so was the radiance
around him. This was the appearance of the likeness of the glory of the Lord
- Ezekiel 1:25-28
Moses
could not even look into the face of God without dying. God showed him a sliver of his back. The glory from that exposure, radiated so
much from Moses face, he wore a veil because the reflection of God’s glory
blinded everyone else.
When
God visited Jesus on a mountaintop one day, Jesus brought three disciples with
Him. They said His face shined brighter
than the sun.
Whatever
that likeness Moses saw, whatever image Jesus portrayed on that mountain: that
is what Adam and Eve looked like. Jewish
folklore contends Adam looked so much like God, the angels feared him. Moses, one of the most righteous men to ever
live, could not look God into His face; yet Adam and Eve walked with Him,
talked with Him, looked at Him right in the eyes until they ate from that tree. Adam and Eve lived over 900 years because He
designed their bodies perfectly. They
were never meant to get sick. Never
meant to break. Never meant to
bleed. Never meant to age. Never meant to die. The bible states God held humankind as His
most prized possession. More beloved
than the sun and moon. More beloved than
the skies and the seas. More beloved
than the planets and stars. He made
every single thing in existence just by speaking it into existence. With man, He molded and carved him with His
very fingers and brought Adam to life with a kiss. Genesis emphasizes they didn’t wear any
clothes. It emphasizes that God created
them in His own image and likeness.
After
Adam and Eve left the garden, they gave birth to sons. The bible describes it this way:
When God
created mankind, he made them in the likeness of God. He created
them male and female and blessed them. And he named them “Mankind”[ when
they were created.
When Adam
had lived 130 years, he had a son in his own likeness, in his own
image; and he named him Seth. – Genesis 5:1-3
In the same way God created mankind in His
likeness, Adam conceived a son in his likeness.
I am going to hypothesize something crazy. Adam and Eve did not look like us. They resembled the likeness of the God,
Ezekiel described.
That’s
why I think the bible wants us to know they lived in the garden unclothed. Because when Adam and Eve brought sin into
the world, their eyes opened and they saw their nakedness for the very first
time. They heard God calling them and
they hid. They hid…from God. He asked them where they were. They responded that they heard Him and hid
because they were naked. And God asks
them this question:
Who told
you that you were naked?
That’s
a great question. Who told them they
were naked? How did they know? No one else existed of which to compare
themselves. No one ever told them they
should wear garments upon their skin. No
one showed them how to feel shame.
I believe they knew because the moment they
sinned, the glory of God that clothed them, that filled them, that ran through
their veins; disappeared. Whatever fire
Ezekiel saw in the likeness of God; that left Adam and Eve. They could see it. They could feel it. Everything that made them beautiful and
immortal and powerful was gone. They no
longer looked like their God. They
looked like us.
According to Jewish folklore, Adam and Even
saw their new bodies that looked like mine and the world of which I reside and
tried to commit suicide over and over and over.
At times, their grief killed them.
God kept saving them to keep them alive.
The glory of what they were and where they lived transcended their
current reality so much, they could not bear to tolerate life anymore. They begged God to go back to Eden before they
sinned. They wanted their glory back. They
wanted to go home.
I
boast about reading the bible over fifty times.
I really don’t know how many times I read it. I didn’t count each time. Some chapters I read over two hundred times
in my life. I am sure I only read
Ezekiel twice. I could say my motivation
lay in the fact that one of my majors in college was theology but the I don’t
remember the bible as required reading for any of my classes. I read it because I thought, it held the
secrets to power and holiness and truth.
And I loved quoting scriptures when arguing with other people over
religion. I, also, became the Michael
Jordan of bible trivia questions.
So,
when Tim, a hero of my faith, told me about a character in the bible who jumped
into a snowy pit to kill a lion, I told him, with all certainty, that story
does not exist in scripture. We wagered
something. I don’t remember. But if he wanted to bet a million dollars, I
confidently would have accepted that gamble.
I believe my assuredness even made him doubt a little. He texted me one scripture later on that
day. I could not believe it.
Benaiah son
of Jehoiada, a valiant fighter from Kabzeel, performed great exploits. He
struck down Moab’s two mightiest warriors. He also went down into a pit on a
snowy day and killed a lion. – II Samuel 23:30
This intrigued so much, I read the book he
suggested, In a Pit with a Lion on a Snowy Day, It gives context to the sentence,
He also went down into a pit on a snowy day and killed a lion. The author, Mark Batterson, describes it
as a scene from a Hollywood production.
He imagines the five-hundred-pound lion attacking Benaiah out of
nowhere. The lion sees his prey, and as the
lion has done a thousand of times, it strikes, expecting its victim to retreat
or to become its meal. But Benaiah
doesn’t run. He stands and something
happened. Something happened that
made the lion turn around a flee from a mere mortal man. Benaiah won this fight, against all
odds. He should relish his
survival. Anyone in their right mind
would thank God they lived and run in the other direction as fast as
possible. But Benaiah doesn’t do
this. He chases the lion. Even though the lion can run up to thirty-five
miles per hour, he chases it until the lion falls in a snowy pit. Who chases lions? Mark Batterson weaves the next part of the
tale:
So Benaiah turns around and walks away. The
audience breathes a collective sigh of relief. But Benaiah isn’t walking away.
He’s getting a running start. There is an audible gasp from the audience as
Benaiah runs at the pit and takes a flying leap of faith.
When
I read this, my spirt screamed. I wanted
to be this Benaiah more than Moses, or Elijah, or Solomon. Benaiah fought a lion. Not enough.
He chased the lion. Not
enough. He dives into a pit to kill the
lion. Something in my cried that this is
who I am. Yet, if a lion walked into my
living room right now, there would be a lot of weeping and soiling. This creates conflict within me. Why would I care that I cannot chase a lion
and kill it? Because something in me remembers
being this powerful and this courageous.
My
favorite day of the year is Christmas. I
know the cliché, “There is reason for the season”. The commercialization of it diminishes the
purpose of the celebration but I never cared.
I wanted as many gifts for my family as possible. My wife may be the world’s greatest Christmas
shopper. She would start in June,
collecting gifts on sale, and hide them away.
We would create a Christmas list for the boys and I would demand as many
as twenty gifts for each of them. She
would do the majority of the shopping and I would find the money. Even when the scarcity of our means defied the logic of
such expenditures, I would try to find a way.
I would have sold blood to ensure as many gifts as possible. My wife would lay out new sleepwear for each
of us Christmas morning. We would change
and then we would empty stockings three feet tall, filled with candy and
toiletries and nick nacks. Then we would
spend the next three hours presenting a gift to each family member with the
best gift for each person at the end. I
knew it was material. I knew it was
shallow. I knew we could not afford
it. But I didn’t care. I wanted, at least one day, for my family and
I to experience the showering of the best the world could offer, even if the
other 364 days, I could not give them that.
Why would I care about just that one day? Why I would bankrupt us to make it
happen? Because something in me remembers
being this loved.
As
an African American, I have experienced racism but I never knew the torment of
slavery. I could drink from any water
fountain I wanted. I never needed to run
away from a mob wanting to lynch me. I
went to a prep school that was ninety-nine percent Caucasian. I fraternized with many friends. I was elected as a leader to a variety of
student groups. I was captain of the
football team. All of that seemed like
it should be enough. However, my skin
made me different than everyone else. It
constantly devalued me. I didn’t get
invited to the “spin the bottle” parties.
I didn’t attend the soirees at country clubs of which my friends’
families belonged. I never was a
candidate for homecoming king. Every day
gave me some sort of proof that I was black and everyone else was white. My
skin contained a variable in the calculation of who I was before anyone
listened to a word I said. It placed
limits on me. Logic would dictate my
perspective should overflow with gratitude that I didn’t walk through what my
great grandfather, grandfather, and father walked through. However, I found a deep intimacy with their
pain. For my great grandfather, the
color of my skin meant three fifths of a human being most suited to be used
like cattle. For my grandfather, my skin
color meant unequal and criminal and poverty.
For my father, my skin color meant segregation and immorality and
laziness. For me, my skin color only
meant ugly. Why did this break my
heart? Because I remember being beautiful. Not good-looking. Not handsome.
I remember being so beautiful that rejection would be impossible.
I
know that Adam and Eve looking like the God, Ezekiel describes, appears
debatable. I never heard a sermon about
it or read it in a book. But I believe
they did. I believe God dressed them in
His glory and poured it into their flesh.
I believe it because that’s the only way I can answer thr question God
asked of Adam and Eve:
Who told
you that you were naked?
My
answer:
No one
needed to tell me. Isn’t it
obvious?
Isn’t
it obvious why my ambition means more than the welfare of others? I was never meant to be anything other than a
ruler of this entire planet. Isn’t it
obvious why I would offer my body for affection and companionship? I was never meant to be alone. Isn’t it obvious why I would medicate myself
than grapple with anxiety? I was never meant to be afraid. Isn’t it obvious why I would steal? I was never meant to fight for my survival. Isn’t it obvious why I hate other
people? I was never meant to get my
self-worth from anywhere else except my Father.
Isn’t it obvious why I spend time and treasure on outfits? I was meant to be cloaked with immortality.
Isn’t obvious why I want to live in the most ostentatious house I can
afford? I was never meant to not live in
paradise. Isn’t it obvious why I betray
my integrity for acceptance? I was never
meant not to be loved perfectly. Isn’t obvious why I fear death? I was never meant to die.
I am naked. I just do a better job of covering
myself. My clothes come from Ralph
Lauren instead of fig trees.
God
breathed life into Adam. He didn’t need
to breathe into Eve. He didn’t need to
breathe it in their children or their children’s children. We all just inherited this breath that
animates what was once dust. The spirit
in me came from the very lungs of God Himself.
That spirit is eternal. It is
infinite. That is why there is life
after death. It is impossible for my
spirit to die. My spirit remembers
everything I once possessed in Eden. It
remembers everything I lost. Whether
good or bad, righteous or evil; every decision, every act, every goal; points
to one objective. Everything I have ever
done in my life is my attempt to get back to Eden. I just want to go home.
For the Son of man has come to seek and to
save that which was lost - Luke 10:19
Some interpret this verse as Jesus’ overture
to save lost people. But if Jesus came
to just save me from hell, His ministry would have lasted longer than three and
half years. If Jesus continued His
ministry after His resurrection, He would have made the entire world
Christian. He could have continued to
offer sight to the blind and life to the dead, proliferating His message of the
Father’s love. Instead, I must rely on a
few eyewitness accounts to prove He actually woke up on the third day. Jesus
came to do more than save me from hell. He came to seek and save everything that I
lost. He came to restore everything lost
in Eden.
For those who are led by the Spirit of God
are the children of God. The Spirit you received does not make you slaves, so
that you live in fear again; rather, the Spirit you received brought about your
adoption to sonship. And by him we cry, …Father.” The Spirit himself testifies
with our spirit that we are God’s children. Now if we are children, then we are
heirs—heirs of God and co-heirs with Christ, if indeed we share in his
sufferings in order that we may also share in his glory. I consider that our
present sufferings are not worth comparing with the glory that will be revealed
in us. For the creation waits in eager
expectation for the children of God to be revealed. For the creation was
subjected to frustration, not by its own choice, but by the will of the one who
subjected it, in hope that[ the creation
itself will be liberated from its bondage to decay and brought into the freedom
and glory of the children of God. – Romans 8:14-21
God’s
always intended for me to rule with Him.
He always intended for me to share in His glory and power and love. What I live through. What I struggle
over. What I survive. When balanced with my eternal future, my life
on this planet recedes to nothing in comparison. In the future I will be a true son. I will have a real crown on my head (I Peter
5:4). I will have a real throne of which
to sit (Revelations 3:21). I will have a real scepter of which to rule
(Revelations 2:26). He always created us
to live in Eden. I will one day. It will be a new Eden. The only difference is
that the New Eden will be God’s home, too.
So,
I praise God for Jesus’ nakedness on the cross.
How I else would I believe He took my place? I would hope God died for more than profanity
and drinking and watching dirty movies.
I needed so much more than that.
I needed Him to be broken as I am broken. To be desperate as I am desperate. To feel as abandoned as I feel abandoned. To be as lost as I am lost. No wonder I cannot tolerate thinking of
seeing Him die as He truly did. It feels
too much like looking into a mirror.
A
denuded Jesus shown to the world makes me sure He took my place but it’s also
how I know He saved “that which was lost”.
I always thought the Father raised Jesus from the dead three days after
He died. I visualized Jesus in hell,
praying and waiting for the Father to display His glory and resurrect Him. However, that is not entirely true.
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. This command I received from my
Father. - John 10:18
When
the Jews asked for a sign of His authority, He cryptically told them, after
they killed Him, He would raise Himself from the dead in three days (John
2:18).
If
Jesus raised Himself the from the dead, it means He controlled every single
thing that happened to him. This means,
even though Jesus took the entire sins of the world, He never stopped being
God. He never stopped being
omniscient. He never stopped being holy. He possessed power over everything happening
to Him. Even on the cross as my
substitute, having God’s wrath poured on Him, He never stopped being God.
I pray that
the eyes of your heart may be enlightened in order that you may know the
hope to which he has called you, the riches of his glorious
inheritance in his holy people, and his incomparably great power for
us who believe. That power is the same as the mighty strength he
exerted when he raised Christ from the dead and seated him at his right
hand in the heavenly realms, far above all
rule and authority, power and dominion, and every name that is
invoked, not only in the present age but also in the one to come – Ephesians
1:18-21
In three days, Jesus went from the most
sinful being in all existence to the king who will one day see every knew bow
to Him and every tongue confess that He is God and Lord. God dispenses that same power for me. I will never be as sinful as Jesus was on
that day. I will never reach the heights
of all creation bowing to Him. My
transformation does need to happen in three days. Yet, the same power works for my
restoration.
He is God in the midst of my brokenness. He
is God is the midst of my sin. He is God
in the midst of my desperation. He is
God in the midst of all that I lost. The
same Spirit that raised Him from the dead will raise me. That means my own third day is coming. I will know immortality, again. I will know imperviousness, again. I will know beauty and majesty, again. I will know power, again. I will know perfect love, again. I will know His glory, again. I will be able to look in His eyes and walk with
Him, again. When my third day comes, it
means I am going home.
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