The Lamb

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Good morning Chapel family. Today marks the first Sunday of Lent, which means we have six weeks until Easter Sunday. We are really hoping and praying that all the snow will be melted by Easter Sunday, so we can celebrate Easter outside—wouldn’t that be awesome? So today, all over the world, followers of Jesus from all kinds of churches and all kinds of denominations are setting aside this 40-day period to prepare their hearts for Easter.

So…what are we supposed to do during these 40 days? Well, some Christians choose to give something up, or fast from something, just like Jesus fasted for 40 days in the wilderness. But whether you do that or not, there are two main ways that Lent can prepare us for Easter—here they are: reflection and repentance. So we take these six weeks to slow down and reflect on the life of Jesus, and especially his suffering as he headed toward the cross. And then, in light of that reflection, we repent of anything that God brings to our attention. Repentance simply means “to turn around.” When we had little kids and they were crawling, there were times when one of my kids was crawling toward the edge of the stairs, or toward the stove, and I would grab them and lift them up—you know, their arms would still be going—and turn them around—180-degree turn, and put them back down, and they would crawl off in a different direction. That’s repentance. So as we reflect on the life of Jesus, there are going to be times when God will shine his light on some wrong direction in your life. And you’re going to have to decide if you will allow him—because God doesn’t force us—if you’ll allow him turn you around, and head you in the right direction.

So I’m really looking forward to these six weeks of reflection and repentance, and I’m excited about what God will do in each of us. I’m calling this series “The Cross-Shaped Life.” Because here’s what I’ve realized about the life of Jesus: everybody knows that the cross is how he died, right? But not everyone realizes that the cross is also the way Jesus lived. His whole life was characterized by sacrifice, and service, and letting go of his rights, and suffering for others. Theologians call that living a cruciform life—life in the form of the cross. So we’re going to look at six scenes from the life of Jesus where he demonstrates that cross-shaped way of life. And as we reflect on each of those scenes, if we’re listening, we’re going to hear the voice of Jesus—inviting us to repent, and live in that same cross-shaped way. I think it’s going to be so rich.

To help all of us get the most out of this series, I’ve been collaborating with Jackie Van Hook and Susan Breitz from our discipleship ministry, and we’ve developed this tool—let me show you a picture. This is a very simplified, stripped down version—you can find the complete version on our web site. So in your small group, or in your own devotional life, you’re going to have the opportunity to reflect on scenes from the life of Jesus—by reading and thinking and discussing. And then, each week, there’s going to be a suggested step of repentance, where God calls you to turn from this to this. Does that make sense? So each week in the sermon, those two blanks will be filled in—I’m going to fill them in for you—but then through your group, or on your own, you’re going to develop a vision of what that could look like in your life. Sound good?

Okay. So today, we’re going to look at the very beginning of Jesus’ public ministry, where we learn that he is The Lamb. Look with me at today’s Scripture reading—John chapter one, verses 29 to 34. I invite you to hear the Word of God…

29 The next day John saw Jesus coming toward him and said, “Look, the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world! 30 This is the one I meant when I said, ‘A man who comes after me has surpassed me because he was before me.’ 31 I myself did not know him, but the reason I came baptizing with water was that he might be revealed to Israel.”

32 Then John gave this testimony: “I saw the Spirit come down from heaven as a dove and remain on him. 33 And I myself did not know him, but the one who sent me to baptize with water told me, ‘The man on whom you see the Spirit come down and remain is the one who will baptize with the Holy Spirit.’ 34 I have seen and I testify that this is the Son of God.” This is the word of the Lord.

Let’s talk about three things today: Behold the Lamb, Imitate the Lamb, and The Secret of the Lamb. Behold the Lamb, imitate the Lamb, and the secret of the Lamb.

So, first: Behold the Lamb. This is really an amazing scene. John the Baptist had felt a calling from God to go out to the wilderness and live the life of a prophet. He was a wild dude—he wore sackcloth; he ate bugs. And John must have had such a powerful presence, because people from the cities were coming all the way out to this place called Bethany Beyond the Jordan—in the middle of nowhere—to hear him preach. And his preaching was not, like, feel-good stuff. He confronted people on their sin and hypocrisy, and he challenged them to repent (there’s that word “repent” again). And a lot of people were so affected by his message that they walked into the river and got baptized by John. So in that river, way outside of town, there was this revival building.

If you were there, listening to John the Baptist preach, there would be one other thing that you would hear so clearly—and this is actually the most important part. Because John was such a charismatic leader, people were tempted to follow him and view him as the Messiah. And John would have none of that. Earlier in this chapter, religious leaders from Jerusalem heard about this crazy guy baptizing out by the Jordan River, so they send out some people to investigate. And the first thing John says is, “I am not the Messiah!” They say, then who are you? And John quotes from the prophet Isaiah: “I am the voice of one calling in the wilderness, ‘Make straight the way for the Lord.’” John understood that his ultimate life goal was to prepare people—to get people ready—to encounter the Messiah. And he talked about that coming Messiah all the time.

So…up until this time, Jesus had kept a really low profile. He was about 30 years old, and most people just knew him as a carpenter who made really good furniture. And he was actually related to John the Baptist—so they knew each other. But John didn’t realize that the Messiah whose arrival he’d been preaching was actually his cousin Jesus…until this moment. And like I said, it’s an amazing moment. Verse 29: 29 The next day John saw Jesus coming toward him and said, “Look, the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world! 30 This is the one I meant when I said, ‘A man who comes after me has surpassed me because he was before me.’

Let’s focus on that first line: “Look”—older translations say “Behold, the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world.” Of all the titles that John could have given Jesus—Rabbi, Lord, king, messiah, savior—so many things John could have called him. But at this first public appearance of Jesus to officially begin his ministry, John says, “Behold the Lamb.” Why? Why that?

Well, every Jewish person knew that a lamb was a sacrificial animal. The night the Israelites were rescued from slavery in Egypt, God told them to sacrifice a lamb and put the blood over their doors, so God’s judgment would pass over their home, and that was commemorated with a lamb at the Passover meal from that time on. And then later, when God established a way for his people to worship him at the Temple, every day the priests would sacrifice…guess what? A lamb, to atone for the sins of the people. So everybody knew lambs were the sacrificial animals that God had provided

so people could be forgiven. So, knowing all that, John sees Jesus coming toward him, and he says, “Behold the Lamb of God.” Not just a lamb of God; The Lamb of God. The Lamb that all the other lambs have been leading up to. In John’s mind, that’s the first thing you need to know about Jesus.”

When you read the Old Testament, one of the most powerful predictions of the coming Messiah is found in Isaiah 53:7. Listen to this:

He was oppressed and afflicted, yet he did not open his mouth; he was led like a lamb to the slaughter, and as a sheep before its shearers is silent, so he did not open his mouth.

When I read this prophecy, and I think about that lamb being led to slaughter, the word that comes to mind is the word “vulnerable.” Because the lamb is unprotected and defenseless, and really at the mercy of the people that are leading it to slaughter, right? This is a picture of vulnerability.

Vulnerability means you are exposed to potential harm and loss. And I think that’s a really important thing to know about Jesus. All through his life—not just at his death—Jesus made himself vulnerable. He publicly taught in the temple courts, knowing that some powerful people would be offended by his teaching. He crossed ethnic and cultural barriers to spend time with Samaritans and lepers and other people that you weren’t supposed to be seen with. Really risky. He got very close to a group of disciples, knowing that some of them might—in fact knowing some of them would—betray him or deny him. And even when he knew that people in Jerusalem were plotting to arrest him and kill him, he headed straight to Jerusalem. If you think about it, Jesus lived a life of high vulnerability. He didn’t play it safe. He exposed himself to harm and loss all the time.

I love that scene in the life of David where he’s about to go and face Goliath. So he gets all suited up in the king’s armor, right? He’s all covered and protected from head to toe. But at some point he says, “Wait a minute—this isn’t right.” And he strips it all off, and he walks out to meet Goliath, wearing his shepherd’s tunic and nothing else. You talk about vulnerability! And then here comes Goliath, the giant, covered in scale armor, a bronze helmet on his head. Trash-talking, mocking—he felt invincible. What a contrast, right? The vulnerability of David and the impenetrable armor of Goliath. And here’s the point: Jesus walked through life like David, not like Goliath. That’s really important to know about him. Jesus, the Lamb of God, was shockingly vulnerable.

So…what does that mean for us? Well, it means that as we behold the Lamb, we get to Imitate the Lamb. Why would I say that? I mean, just because Jesus lived like that, why does that mean we should? Well, Philippians 2:5 calls us to have the same mindset as Christ Jesus. 1 Peter 2:21 says Jesus has left us an example, so we can follow in his steps. So following Jesus means that we look at life and approach life the same way he did. Okay, so if Jesus, as the Lamb of God, lived with vulnerability, what does that mean for us?

If I had to come up with one word for the opposite of vulnerable, I would use the word guarded. So by reflecting on the life of Jesus, God is calling us to repent—are you ready?—here’s the turnaround—God is calling us to repent from guarded to vulnerable. Let me give you three pictures of what that movement could look like.

First, it might look like this: from playing it safe to taking risks. From playing it safe to taking risks. In my personal devotions I’m in the book of Acts right now. And last week I was in chapter 14, where Paul and Barnabas come to a city called Iconium, and they’re preaching the gospel. But then some of the people from the local synagogue poison the minds of the townspeople against Paul and

Barnabas. So all of a sudden the atmosphere turned hostile and dangerous. And the very next verse, Acts 14:3, says, “So Paul and Barnabas spent considerable time there, speaking for the Lord.” Even though it was risky—and they knew they were vulnerable—they kept at it, because that’s what God had called them to do. Part of following Jesus means we get used to taking risks. Good risks.

When my youngest brother was an officer in the U.S. Navy, he had gotten the phone number of a girl that he was interested in. So he sat down to call her, and he dialed all the numbers except the last one. And his finger just froze over that last number. (This was the days before texting). So he couldn’t bring himself to dial that last number. And I’ll never forget this: he said, “When I was in the Naval Academy, I had to go to Jump School, to learn how to jump out of planes. So I have stood in the open doorway of a plane, 1,200 feet in the air, working up the courage to step off, and it was terrifying! But not as terrifying as dialing the last digit of that girls’ number.” Why? Fear of rejection. The thought that she might reject me is so horrible, it would be safer to just not make the call. Can anyone relate to that?

Why does a high school girl avoid telling her school friends that she’s going to a Bible study that night? Because it’s risky—she might lose their respect. So she plays it safe. Why does a dad hold back from confronting his teenage son about his destructive behavior? Because he’s afraid he might lose his son’s love. He figures, “I’d rather just keep the peace.” Why do middle-aged people like me put off their physical exams? Because we might hear bad news. Why does the high school kid, who loves to sing and act, not try out for the school musical? Because he might not get a part—and that would hurt. Why does the woman who’s stuck in a job she hates never make the move and change careers? Because she might fail. So she chooses to stay in everyday misery, instead of risk the possibility of failure. Charles Stanley said this: “Fear stifles our thinking and actions. It creates indecisiveness that results in stagnation. I have known talented people who procrastinate indefinitely rather than risk failure.”

This does not mean you become an adrenaline junky and take dumb risks. But part of living with Christ-like vulnerability means that you put yourself in situations where there are no guarantees—where you might fail—but you do it anyway because it’s the right thing to do.

Here’s the second way this “guarded to vulnerable” movement might look: from denying weakness to admitting weakness. From denying weakness to admitting weakness. On the night when Jesus was arrested, when he was praying in the Garden of Gethsemane, he says to his disciples, “My soul is overwhelmed with sorrow to the point of death.” Jesus! Don’t say that! Aren’t you afraid your disciples will think you’re weak? Apparently not. Jesus was the most effective leader in history, and he wasn’t afraid to admit weakness. Paul says the same thing in 2 Corinthians 12: I delight in my weaknesses…because when I’m weak, that’s when I’m strong. What a paradox.

At the seminary where I studied, one of the most beloved professors was a guy named Howard Hendricks. And I still remember the day he told our class about his lifelong struggle with depression. You could have heard a pin drop in that room. Was that a risk? Absolutely. But how do you think that affected his influence as a leader? I think it actually raised his level of influence. Because his vulnerability made him more human and drew us to him.

Some of us are really good and covering up and only showing our strong side. But Jesus frees us that burden, and invites us to admit weakness.

And then—third picture of moving from guarded to vulnerable: from attacking enemies to loving enemies. From attacking enemies to loving enemies. 1 Peter 2:23 says this about Jesus: When they hurled their insults at him, he did not retaliate; when he suffered, he made no threats. Instead, he

entrusted himself to him who judges justly. Just before he died on the cross, while he was being tormented by Roman guards and the mocking crowd, Jesus prayed, “Father, forgive them, for they don’t know what they’re doing.” Wow.

What’s our natural instinct when someone does us wrong? Strike back! Attack! So many of us walk through our days guarded and defensive and so tightly wound, and when we perceive that someone is disrespecting us or against us, we strike back. Maybe not physically—usually not physically. But maybe verbally, or passive aggressively or through gossip. There are lots of ways to attack people. And living with Christ-like vulnerability means you’re able to rise above that natural tendency.

Think about how powerful this could be. Someone criticizes your work. Did you ever have that happen? It’s lots of fun. Someone criticizes your parenting. Oof. That’s even more personal. Your girlfriend or boyfriend or spouse says, “You know, you have this habit that drives me crazy.” Does anybody feel your defenses going up? That’s our natural tendency—we go into protective mode. But can you imagine having such inner strength, and such inner stability, that when that happens, you actually welcome the feedback? Even if it’s not necessarily all true, you humbly listen, and you say, “Thank you for sharing that concern.” And you actually feel an affection for the person who approached you. How freeing that would be.

From playing it safe to taking risks. From denying weakness to admitting weakness. And from attacking enemies to loving enemies. That’s how Jesus, the Lamb, lived. And he invites us to that same kind of beautiful, vulnerable life.

You know what the problem is? It’s hard. It’s almost impossible. So we have to talk about this last thing: The Secret of the Lamb. How did he do it? How did Jesus consistently live with that kind of vulnerability? I think the secret is found right at the beginning—right here at his baptism. When I look at this scene, I see Jesus being filled with two things.

First, The Spirit’s Power. Look at verse 32: Then John gave this testimony: “I saw the Spirit come down from heaven as a dove and remain on him. When Jesus was baptized, John the Baptist actually saw the Holy Spirit—physically manifested as a dove—coming down from heaven and remaining on Jesus. This is really significant! Because up until that time, in the Old Testament, the Holy Spirit would come upon people temporarily—to enable them to accomplish certain tasks. But from this moment on, Jesus was filled with the Spirit permanently. And when you read the Gospels, it often says that the Holy Spirit was the power that enabled Jesus to do what he did…including living with vulnerability. That was a supernaturally-enabled thing!

And it’s the same way with us. There is no way we live this kind of vulnerable life just by trying hard. It’s too unnatural. Self-protection kicks in too easily. And that’s why we need the Holy Spirit. Listen: if you are a believer in Jesus Christ—if you’ve accepted Christ personally—then you have the Holy Spirit dwelling in you. The same Spirit who came to rest on Jesus! So when you find yourself wanting to play it safe, and deny your weaknesses, and attack your enemies, draw on the power of the Spirit. Literally, just pray, “Holy Spirit, fill me. Empower me. Show me how to do this risky thing…this loving thing…this courageous thing…by your power.” At the end of my prayer time every morning, I physically open my arms, and I take a few deep breaths, and I say, “Father, fill me afresh with your Holy Spirit.” Because I need him every day.

But there’s one more part of Jesus’ secret: The Father’s Love. And this is actually not found in John’s version of this event. But we find it in Matthew’s Gospel. Look with me at Matthew 3, verses 16 and 17:

16 As soon as Jesus was baptized, he went up out of the water. At that moment heaven was opened, and he saw the Spirit of God descending like a dove and alighting on him. 17 And a voice from heaven said, “This is my Son, whom I love; with him I am well pleased.” Can you imagine what those words must have meant to Jesus at that moment? Maybe you’re thinking, “Wait a minute—why would Jesus need to hear that? He already knew who he was.” But don’t forget: Jesus wasn’t just fully divine; he was also fully human. And in his humanness, he needed what every son, and every daughter needs to hear: the affirmation of their father. Some people never hear those words from their earthly father, and that’s a painful thing. But in that moment, Jesus heard his father delighting in him: “You are my son. I love you. I am well pleased with you.” He would hear those same words a second time , at his transfiguration. And those words, spoken by that Voice, gave him such inner security, that he was freed to live with vulnerability.

If you never heard that affirmation from your Father, this might be hard to believe. Even if you did receive that affirmation, it might be hard to believe, because it requires faith. But here is the truth: because of the Lamb of God, who takes away the sins of the world, and who took away your sins, listen: you get to hear the God of the universe speaking these words over you. And when you dare to listen and believe those words, it will change your life. It doesn’t matter if you had a wonderful dad, or a terrible dad, or no dad at all. The Father whose opinion matters the most (and some of you so need to hear this)—the Father whose opinion matters the most says, “You are my son. You are my daughter. I love you. And I am well pleased with you.” And as you live that truth and grow in that truth, you will find yourself not needing to be so guarded. You will find yourself living with a powerful and beautiful vulnerability—just like your Savior.

So as we close today, let’s come to the Communion table and receive the love of our Father. Let’s take a few moments to prepare our hearts.