Untitled Sermon (4)

We’re in this third week of our series called Words from the Cross. Thus far, we’ve looked at the first two statements from Jesus; statements that are powerful and filled with hope. The first was, “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.” In that, we were reminded that forgiveness is possible for anyone and everyone.

Then, last week, we looked at Christ’s second statement to the thief on the cross. Jesus says, “Today, you will be with me in paradise.” In that, we were reminded that we are not saved by anything we do; we are not saved by our works; rather, we are saved by grace through faith in the work of Christ on the cross alone. And for those who feel like they’ve done too much or like they’re too far gone, Jesus’ response to this thief shows us that it’s never too late for us to repent and cry out to Jesus for salvation.

These are two absolutely amazing statements. At this point, it feels like we’re building up to something, as Jesus is offering all these words of grace and forgiveness, mercy and love. But then we get to the third statement from the cross, where Jesus says, “Woman, behold your mother. And behold your son.” And if I’m being honest, at first glance, it almost feels like the wind has been sucked out of the sails, so to speak. In fact, this statement feels like it doesn’t belong; like it's out of place; like it’s just awkwardly thrown in among the rest.

But when we look at what Jesus is saying and doing here, we can see the character of His heart revealed. And within this seemingly oddly placed statement, we find hope and assurance for today, as well. We find this in John 19, beginning in verse 25. John sets up the scene by telling us who is standing around the cross that day.

But standing by the cross of Jesus were his mother and his mother’s sister, Mary the wife of Clopas, and Mary Magdalene.

Outside of the mention of John in verse 26, that’s it. We might expect that the disciples would be there; after all, they followed Jesus and lived with Jesus and were loved by Jesus and witnessed all that Jesus did for three years. Jesus had spent so much time pouring into them; we’d like to think that they’d be there for Him in this darkest hour. Yet, by this point, they’ve all scattered and gone home, just as Jesus had predicted. The only disciple that remained by Jesus side was John.

And John tells us that along with him were four women. There’s Jesus’ mother Mary, who we’d likely expect to be by His side. There’s Mary’s sister. Interestingly enough, if we compare this with the other Gospel accounts, we find that Mary’s sister is likely Salome, who is the wife of Zebedee, who is the father of James and John. Which means, John’s mother, Jesus’ aunt, is standing there with her sister Mary. Then there’s Mary, the wife of Clopas, and Mary Magdalene. In a moment when many of the men had failed and turned away from Jesus, many of the women continued to follow Jesus.

If we’re being honest, what we see here is somewhat indicative of what we see even today, isn’t it? This isn’t the main point of the sermon or the text by any means, but I think this is worth mentioning. Men, we are called to be the spiritual leaders in our families and in the church. Yet, statistics will show that women tend to take their faith more seriously. Women are more known to attend church, read their Bibles, and pray. And the reality is, all too often, like the disciples at the cross, we are content to sit in the background and let the women do most of the work. Children’s church? We’ll let a woman do that. Nursery? We’ll let a woman do that. Serving at a school, reading to kids, feeding a team? We’ll let the women do that. And sadly, leading our own kids in prayer and in the word? We’ll let the women do that. Men, the fact of the matter is, we must do better at leading our families and church in Christ. And to all our ladies who step up when we (I’m including myself here) drop the ball, I want to say thank you.

That was the case here. The disciples had dropped the ball, and these women were stepping up to serve, just as they had for much of His ministry. But of everyone there, one of them had been with Jesus since birth. Because standing at the foot of the cross that day was Mary, the mother of Jesus.

We might imagine that being the mother (or father) of Jesus would be quite easy. But as we read the Gospels, we see quite the opposite. Being Jesus’ mother was tough. No doubt, she was told it would be. When she and Joseph took Jesus to present Him at the temple, Simeon prophesied about this in Luke 2:34-35. And Simeon blessed them and said to Mary his mother, “Behold, this child is appointed for the fall and rising of many in Israel, and for a sign that is opposed (and a sword will pierce through your own soul also), so that thoughts from many hearts may be revealed.”  But knowing that doesn’t make it any easier. I mean, can you imagine all she endured as Christ’s mother?

Arthur W. Pink pictures it quite well by saying, “What sorrow it must have caused her when, because there was no room in the inn, she had to lay her newly born babe in the manger! What anguish must have been hers when she learned of Herod’s purpose to destroy her infant’s life! What trouble was given her when she was forced on His account to flee into a foreign country and sojourn for several years in the land of Egypt! What piercings of soul must have been hers when she saw her son despised and rejected of men! What grief must have wrung her heart as she beheld Him hated and persecuted by His own nation! And who can estimate what she passed through as she stood there at the cross? If Christ was the Man of Sorrows, was she not the woman of sorrows?” And he goes on to say, Try and read the thoughts and emotions of that mother’s heart. O what a sword it was that pierced her soul then! Never such bliss at a human birth, never such sorrow at an inhuman death.

I can’t even begin to imagine what all was running through her mind and heart that day. As she looked upon her Son through her tear covered eyes as He was being unjustly treated, she must have been heartbroken; she must have been overwhelmed with grief; and she must have been overcome by sorrow. And as Jesus looked upon her, He must have known that. Because He makes it a point to address her in verse 26.

When Jesus saw his mother and the disciple whom he loved standing nearby, he said to his mother, “Woman, behold, your son!” Then he said to the disciple, “Behold, your mother!” And from that hour the disciple took her to his own home.

To understand what Jesus is getting at here, we need to understand some of that culture. In Jewish tradition, whenever the oldest son was about to die, if his mother was a widow, he would ensure that she would be provided for by placing her in the care of someone else, often another member of the immediate family. So, in this moment, Jesus is entrusting her care in the hands of the apostle John.

Essentially, Jesus was using His dying breaths to care for His mother; to assure her that she won’t be alone; and to ensure her in this moment that she will be taken care of and provided for. In other words, as Jesus is going through everything He’s facing, including the wrath of God, Jesus pauses to comfort His mother. It’s a wholesome scene, isn’t it? I mean, this would rival any lifetime or hallmark movie.

At this point, we might be tempted to just say, “Okay, that’s a neat story; but it doesn’t really seem to pertain to me. It feels like a one-time moment between Jesus and Mary. So, what are we to take away from this? What does this have to do with us?”

The answer is seen in the fact that Jesus refers to Mary as woman. Jesus calls her this for at least a couple reasons. On one hand, Jesus was trying to comfort her, to which we in our culture might consider a bit odd. After all, let me ask ladies, if a man refers to you as woman today, whether he’s your son or spouse or Joe Schmo from church, how are you feeling about it? It’s not often well received in our culture. In fact, it’s often received as a derogatory statement. But in this culture, and in this moment, Jesus was using a term of dignity and respect for His mother. Some translations have captured that idea by saying, “Dear