New Life'n

The dead day

The dying day was yesterday -- Good Friday.  The living day is tomorrow -- Easter. 

On Friday the old died, on Sunday the new came.

The dead day was today, the Saturday in between. 

Friday was the rejection, the pain, the suffering, the tragedy, the shock, the horror, the disbelief.  Oh, God, did this happen?  You go to bed hoping you wake up tomorrow and find it's a dream.

Saturday the reality of it hits.  The sun comes up and nothing has changed.  It really did happen.  It's final.  Done.  When there's a sealed grave, there's no hope for going back and undoing anything.  Now the hardness of separation hits -- out of sight, gone, you can't get there.  You grieve, you hurt, you stare blankly.  And there's regret -- did this have to happen?  Should you have done something different?  If only...what about...what if...  But there'll be no answers.  Burial slams the door on death.

Burial also sets the stage for the new to come.  But you don't feel or imagine any of that.

The dead day is universal.

The dead day is winter.  The old leaves fall from the trees, and in spring the new ones come.  But in-between there's barrenness.  It has to be that way -- new leaves can't grow on top of old ones.  But, does winter have to be so long?

When you lose a job or house or relationship all you know is what you've lost.  It's hard to look for the new to come because you have no idea what it will be.  Or when.  Or if.  That's the dead day.

It's the dream and the project and the health and the family and the investment and anything that was alive or seemed so alive but now is dead.  When all hope of it being alive is gone.  That's the sealed grave, the Saturday, the dead day.  

That's Jesus in the tomb.  It's over.

If you can somewhat picture that, then incredibly, he now wants you to put yourself in there, too, with him, for the biggest implication of the dead day, the answer humans have been looking for since Adam and Eve.  The answer to: "Why do I act like this?  Why do I feel this way?  Why can't I change?"  The answer is: In some things (like being fully human) the old has to go before the new can come --

"We were therefore buried with him through baptism into death..."    -- Rom 6.4

"I have been crucified with Christ, and I no longer live..." -- Gal 2.20

The old has to go and be as dead as Jesus on Saturday.  Buried, out of sight, gone, final. 

That happened when I first trusted Jesus' death and payment for my sins.  When I believed what he did on Friday, then the old me being really dead became true for me, too.

But sometimes I don't act like it's true.  Sometimes it feels like some things I do have to die all over again.  It would help if there was a new, different life to replace the old that's gone.  Oh yeah, that's Sunday:

We were therefore buried with him through baptism into death in order that, just as Christ was raised from the dead through the glory of the Father, we too may live a new life.  If we have been united with him like this in his death, we will certainly also be united with him in his resurrection.  -- Romans 6.4-5

First the death, then the burial.  THEN the new life.  My problem is I want new life without the death and burial part.  But the order never changes.

The dying day was yesterday -- Good Friday.  The living day is tomorrow -- Easter. 

On Friday the old died, on Sunday the new came.

The dead day was today, the Saturday in between. 

Friday was the rejection, the pain, the suffering, the tragedy, the shock, the horror, the disbelief.  Oh, God, did this happen?  You go to bed hoping you wake up tomorrow and find it's a dream.

Saturday the reality of it hits.  The sun comes up and nothing has changed.  It really did happen.  It's final.  Done.  When there's a sealed grave, there's no hope for going back and undoing anything.  Now the hardness of separation hits -- out of sight, gone, you can't get there.  You grieve, you hurt, you stare blankly.  And there's regret -- did this have to happen?  Should you have done something different?  If only...what about...what if...  But there'll be no answers.  Burial slams the door on death.

Burial also sets the stage for the new to come.  But you don't feel or imagine any of that.

The dead day is universal.

The dead day is winter.  The old leaves fall from the trees, and in spring the new ones come.  But in-between there's barrenness.  It has to be that way -- new leaves can't grow on top of old ones.  But, does winter have to be so long?

When you lose a job or house or relationship all you know is what you've lost.  It's hard to look for the new to come because you have no idea what it will be.  Or when.  Or if.  That's the dead day.

It's the dream and the project and the health and the family and the investment and anything that was alive or seemed so alive but now is dead.  When all hope of it being alive is gone.  That's the sealed grave, the Saturday, the dead day.  

That's Jesus in the tomb.  It's over.

If you can somewhat picture that, then incredibly, he now wants you to put yourself in there, too, with him, for the biggest implication of the dead day, the answer humans have been looking for since Adam and Eve.  The answer to: "Why do I act like this?  Why do I feel this way?  Why can't I change?"  The answer is: In some things (like being fully human) the old has to go before the new can come --

"We were therefore buried with him through baptism into death..."    -- Rom 6.4

"I have been crucified with Christ, and I no longer live..." -- Gal 2.20

The old has to go and be as dead as Jesus on Saturday.  Buried, out of sight, gone, final. 

That happened when I first trusted Jesus' death and payment for my sins.  When I believed what he did on Friday, then the old me being really dead became true for me, too.

But sometimes I don't act like it's true.  Sometimes it feels like some things I do have to die all over again.  It would help if there was a new, different life to replace the old that's gone.  Oh yeah, that's Sunday:

We were therefore buried with him through baptism into death in order that, just as Christ was raised from the dead through the glory of the Father, we too may live a new life.  If we have been united with him like this in his death, we will certainly also be united with him in his resurrection.  -- Romans 6.4-5

First the death, then the burial.  THEN the new life.  My problem is I want new life without the death and burial part.  But the order never changes.

Right in the middle

When Jesus said to them, “I am he,” they drew back and fell to the ground – John 18

Well they should – he’s God in a body on earth.  You ought to have some kind of awesome reaction.

But he’d been God in a body on earth for years, and most people did not draw back and fall to the ground in his presence.  Plus, these guys obviously did not believe this was God – they were there to arrest him!  If they thought he was God, wouldn’t they be afraid he’d call down legions of angels to rescue himself and destroy them?  Sure they brought 500-plus of themselves, but that was to intimidate men, not God.

And as soon as the falling to the ground was over, they got right back up and went about their arresting business, as if it hadn’t happened. So this wasn’t worship – you don’t worship one second and arrest the thing you’re worshipping the next.

It’s like it was involuntary.  Like it wasn’t their reaction.  Like it was imposed on them from the outside.

This is a huge moment.  It’s where Jesus goes from coming and going on his own to being under the total control of his opponents.  No more escaping and slipping thru their hands like he’d been doing for years.  Now he’ll be theirs and they’re going to pour hatred and anger all over him and get rid of him.  And this is the moment that’s the beginning of that.

There’s another angle on this, though.  At the same time this human drama is going on, another one, a bigger one, is happening using the same events.

God has his own business he’s up to.  He’s going to bring to climax all of history up to this point and demonstrate his justice and mercy and love.  He’s going to pay for every sin committed by every human being who has lived or will ever live – billions and billions of people and all their sins.  How heavy is that?  Far heavier than the hatred and anger of the people doing the arresting.  It’s a holy, awesome, righteous, mighty, unspeakable work.  And this arrest is the beginning of that.

And so the official crowd of soldiers and religious leaders comes face to face with the God-man on earth who is going to accomplish this majestic, heroic deed that they don’t have a clue about.  And at the moment he’s pointed out as the one who’s to do it, identifying himself using a phrase signifying his eternal deity, they all draw back and fall to the ground.

For a moment, involuntarily, they all react to who he is and what he’s about to do with his death and resurrection.  It’s a supernaturally imposed reaction.  Like someone or something knocked them down.

It’s moment when God shows us he’s in control of all of this.  This is not just outraged hate having its way.  As opposite as the arrest and the falling down seem, they aren’t.  It’s all part of the same thing.  God is as in control of the arrest and killing as he is in the falling down reaction.  The falling down proves it.  It’s like he’s saying, I’m here and I could change all this as easy as I knocked all those guys down, but since I don’t then you know what’s happening is all me.

He’s in the same place he’s in when other horrible things seem to take over.  Right there.