Saint John, at the very conclusion of writing his gospel, tips his hand and shows the reason he wrote it to begin with. He says, “Now Jesus did many other signs in the presence of his disciples, which are not written in this book. But these are written so that you may come to believe that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of God, and that through believing, you may have life in his name.” That you may come to believe, that you may have life—the author has inscribed your name in his book.
How nice for John to lay out so clearly the editorial aim and purpose of his work. He is not writing a biography, though there are biographical details in what he records; he’s not writing a history, though he is writing about events that happened in time; he is writing a gospel: a declaration about the inbreaking of God’s world into our world, the long-awaited victory over sin, suffering, and death in the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus—the rescue of the people God loves. And out of all the things Jesus did, John says that he selected the best stories for you so that you might encounter the love of God in Jesus and be changed by it, receive life yourself.
Life for you, begun in the love of God, is at the heart of today’s gospel reading. “God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life. Indeed, God did not send the Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through him.” The theme of eternal life permeates the writings of John: seventeen times in the gospel and a handful of times in John’s letters. And as John talks about ‘eternal life,’ he doesn’t only mean future life beyond the grave and gate of death, though that is part of it. For John, eternal life is a present reality—deep, lasting life begun now in Jesus that, like the current of a river, carries us into our future with God.
And the way to be caught up in the current of deep and lasting life, Jesus says, is trust. “That everyone who believes may not perish but may have deep, lasting life.” Belief. Trust. Simple trust. The amount of trust you have isn’t what’s at stake, a lot or a little. What did Jesus say about faith the size of a mustard seed? It’s enough. What matters is not the strength of a person’s trust but the object of that trust, where your trust is placed. If, for example, you climb a tree and sit on a branch, the among of faith and trust you have in the branch you’re sitting on doesn’t matter, but how strong the branch is. You can have all the faith in the world. But if you venture out and sit on a twig, that’s fatally inferior to sitting on a 12” branch. And, even if, sitting on that strong branch, you find yourself dealing with doubts and questions about whether tree-climbing or branch-sitting are good ideas to begin with, you’re still secure—not because of the strength of your trust, but because the strength of the branch makes all the difference. In the gospel, simple trust in the strong love of God, and life in the Son of God who gave himself for us, holds us secure in deep, lasting life.
As a picture of this saving, rescuing love and life of God, Jesus today recalls an Old Testament story, our first reading from the book of Numbers. “Just as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness.” As an aside, if you’ve ever wondered how Church has chosen scripture readings appointed for worship, it begins with picking a Gospel reading to focus a theme for the day. The Old Testament reading is then chosen as way to set the stage for the Gospel: anticipating or echoing themes in the Gospel. Sometimes the Second Reading comes alongside both Old Testament and Gospel to add additional meaning to the theme. Today especially, the link between first reading and gospel is particularly clear. Jesus, in the gospel, refers directly back to event of the first reading and then directly to himself and the theme of trust. “Just as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, so must the Son of Man be lifted up, that whoever believes in him may have eternal life.”
That story in Numbers takes place shortly after God had rescued the Israelites from slavery in Egypt. They’ve passed through the waters of the Red Sea; they are on the way to the Promised Land. Generations of misery and suffering are behind them; freedom and new life are ahead; Moses is leading them through the wilderness. Yet you heard their response to what God had done for them and of Moses leadership of them. “The people spoke against God and against Moses saying…’There is no food and no water, and we detest this miserable food.’” Only what does that mean: “There is no food…and we detest this food”? Is this like opening a refrigerator full of leftovers at home and saying, ‘There’s nothing here to eat’? It may very well be. God’s people have lost sight of God’s provisions, so they complain against God, rebel against God. As a result, Numbers recounts how poisonous serpents invade the wilderness camp.
The people are being bitten, are dying. In their misery they confess their sin and plead with Moses for relief. That’s when God, to rescue and save them, gives Moses a prescription of sorts. Craft an image of a poisonous serpent, put it on a pole, and hold it up for everyone to see. Anyone who looks at that bronze serpent-on-a-pole will be rescued and saved from their predicament; with simple trust, they will live. Now this is an example of what you might call ‘alternative medicine’ and, to be sure, it stretches the imagination. Yet Jesus says this a picture-perfect parable and preview of the way God heals and restores a broken and rebellious world through the cross. “Just as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, so must the Son of Man be lifted up, that whoever believes in him may have eternal life. God so loved the world.”
Jesus takes an Old Testament story about trust and gives it new meaning. Jesus himself will be lifted up on the cross. The Son of God is the source of God’s healing and life for the world. Now this image of grace has a flip side, too; grace reveals our need; diagnoses our lives. “God so loved the world” is a remarkable statement because in other places in the writings of John, we hear how the world is opposed to God; we are included. We have all been bitten by a deadly disease—sin—and need healing and rescue from our predicament and plight. Dead in our trespasses, Paul says today, putting us next to the snake-bit Israelites in the wilderness. But, he adds, “God, who is rich in mercy, out of the great love with which he loved us…made us alive together with Christ—by grace you have been saved.”
When we look at Jesus on the cross, we see the outcome of a world estranged from God through sin; our sin, too. Yet we also see what God does about it. The Son of God is sent into the world not because God is angry and wants to condemn the world but to give life. Now those who do not believe are condemned already, says today’s gospel. But that condemnation is the saddest, most unnecessary thing in the world. Because the tree of the cross, with its strong branches, is God’s love and healing for you, for whoever believes. No one is excluded—deep, lasting life through simple trust.
The early church father Augustine put the story of Moses lifting up the serpent in the wilderness next to the story of Jesus lifted up on the cross and did a compare-and-contrast. For the Israelites in the wilderness, Augustine said, the bite of the serpent was deadly; for people who look to Jesus in trust, the Lord’s death is life giving. Or as John says, this is “written so that you may come to believe that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of God, and that through believing you may have life in his name.” Moses’ alternative medicine in the book of Numbers may stretch our imagination. How much more does the grace of God do the same? The wonder of the cross, and the love and life that flow from it, are deep, complex, infinitely rich to explore. Trust is simple, gracious, and plain. The arms of the cross on which we rest our lives are as sturdy as any tree—deep, lasting life holding us in God
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