Luke 22.63-71

Every country in which Christianity has set its foot has a different version of a similar experience.

In France what you’ll often see statues of crucifixes in Catholic churches, or sometimes on the side of the roads in small villages. These Jesuses are generally really skinny, almost always very white, and they almost always look bored or depressed.

It was a little different for me when I was a kid. I grew up in small towns all over the United States, so we didn’t have a lot of Catholic churches (at least not pretty ones we’d ever visit). But every year around Easter we’d have plays the churches would put on, in which a man playing Jesus would walk down the aisle carrying a cross, fake blood often dripping on the floor. He’d be whipped (gently) by fake Roman soldiers, yelled at by people walking behind, screaming, “Crucify him!” We’d see him arrive on the stage, they’d pretend to nail him to the cross, and then they’d lift him up for everyone to see.

If the guy playing Jesus was a good actor, he looked like he was in agony; if he wasn’t such a good actor he just looked tired and a little sad.

In France what we more often see are the statues of crucifixes we see in Catholic churches, or sometimes on the side of the roads in small villages. These Jesuses almost always look bored or depressed. He’s really skinny, he’s almost always very white.

63 Now the men who were holding Jesus in custody were mocking him as they beat him. 64 They also blindfolded him and kept asking him, “Prophesy! Who is it that struck you?” 65 And they said many other things against him, blaspheming him.

All in all, it’s a depressing sight.

The one thing I couldn’t understand before I was a Christian are why we’re celebrating this; why any of this was a good thing. It’s pretty baffling, when you look at it from outside.

In today’s text, we get at least the beginnings of the answer to that question of why anyone would celebrate the suffering of Christ.

If you remember where we are in the gospel of Luke, Jesus has finished his earthly ministry; he’s been arrested and abandoned by nearly all of his disciples.

And it is at this point that his suffering begins.

But in order to understand what happens during this interrogation, it’s important to understand the political and religious context in this particular place, at this point in history.

On the one hand, there was the context of the relationship between Rome and Israel. Israel at this time, like much of the world, was under Roman occupation. Rome had let Israel maintain a limited autonomy—the religious life in Israel was unaffected, and they still had their king (Herod, whom we’ll meet next week), but Rome still kept a very tight grip on day-to-day life, exacting harsh taxes on the people. The people, obviously, felt burdened by this occupation, and longed for the day that they would be free.

Which brings us to the prophecies of the Messiah.

The Old Testament—the Jewish Bible—contains prophecies of a man who would come and save God’s people, Israel. This man was referred to as the Christ, or the Messiah, and everyone believed he would be a kind of divine warrior, a conqueror who would unite the people and lead a victorious uprising against Rome.

So when Jesus showed up, and began performing miracles and speaking in ways that seemed to suggest he was the Messiah, obviously people—including the religious leaders—were intrigued.

But very quickly they realized that he wasn’t the kind of Messiah they were expecting. Jesus didn’t act like a warrior at all, but more like an itinerant healer and teacher. And rather than going after Rome, he went after the religious establishment in Israel.

Quickly the religious leaders began to see Jesus, not as a savior, but as a threat to their own power—and with all the attention he was getting, if things continued in this way for too long, he’d have the kind of power he needed to supplant them.

So they want to get Jesus out of the picture as quickly as possible. But to do that, they would need both the support of Rome, and the support of the people.

The religious leaders didn’t have the authority to put anyone to death; Rome had to get involved if a death sentence was to be executed.

And if they tried this without the support of the people, the people would likely lead an uprising against them.

So if they want to get rid of Jesus, they need everyone on board.

That is the endgame of this interrogation.

The Interrogation (v. 63-68)

All that being said, let’s pick up our reading in v. 63. If you remember, Luke has just told us that Jesus has now been abandoned by his disciples, and left alone with the chief priests and the soldiers of the temple.

Now if you remember, Luke has just told us how Peter, upon denying Christ, has run away weeping in shame, leaving him totally alone. Leaving him alone with what?

We see in v. 63:

63 Now the men who were holding Jesus in custody were mocking him as they beat him. 64 They also blindfolded him and kept asking him, “Prophesy! Who is it that struck you?” 65 And they said many other things against him, blaspheming him.

Jesus Before the Council

I’ve always found it fascinating how otherwise “good” people can get worked up to violence when they’re together in a mob. We saw this in some way with those people who rioted during the yellow vest protests: the people who were destroying storefronts would probably never have done something like that if they were by themselves; but when you’re not acting alone, suddenly you’re free to let the worst aspects of you come out.

Here’s the thing we don’t often consider. Why did these guards—who only job was to enforce—have this attitude toward Jesus in the first place? It was because he had been labeled a criminal by the religious leaders whom the guards served. Their opinion of Jesus rubbed off on those people surrounding them (which is, sadly, very often the case).

So Jesus is now beaten and bloodied. He’s exhausted; he’s been up all night. But he stays silent before the mockeries.

And it is in that state that he is brought before the assembly of the religious leaders (v. 66).

66 When day came, the assembly of the elders of the people gathered together, both chief priests and scribes. And they led him away to their council...

Anon, 2016. The Holy Bible: English Standard Version, Wheaton, IL: Crossway Bibles.

The attitude of the guards—the hostility of their leaders rubs off on them (v. 63-65)

EXPLAIN SANHEDRIN IN FRENCH TRANSLATION.

It’s important to know from the outset that this was a kangaroo court if ever there was one: their opinion was already formed. They knew what they wanted to do, and they knew what they had to get Jesus to say in order to do it.

What is the Sanhedrin?

So they start trying (v. 66c):

This was a kangaroo court if ever there was one: their opinion was already formed.

And they led him away to their council, and they said, 67 “If you are the Christ, tell us.” But he said to them, “If I tell you, you will not believe, 68 and if I ask you, you will not answer.

, and they said, 67 “If you are the Christ, tell us.” But he said to them, “If I tell you, you will not believe, 68 and if I ask you, you will not answer. 69 But from now on the Son of Man shall be seated at the right hand of the power of God.” 70 So they all said, “Are you the Son of God, then?” And he said to them, “You say that I am.” 71 Then they said, “What further testimony do we need? We have heard it ourselves from his own lips.”

Now let’s stop there for a moment. The justice-seeker in me is so frustrated at this point, because Jesus so easily could have frustrated their plans here.

The council asks him if he is “the Christ”. Christ is not Jesus’s name, it is a title, meaning “Messiah” or “Savior”. So they’re asking him point-blank to say that he is the Messiah whom God had promised to send to save his people.

And the first thing he does is, frankly, pretty satisfying (v. 67b):

But he said to them, “If I tell you, you will not believe, 68 and if I ask you, you will not answer.

: no matter what I say, you won’t believe me, and you won’t tell me what you think either…

Now he could have stopped there. And the part of me who wants to see Jesus get out of this ordeal unscathed really wants him to stop there. “You won’t be satisfied by anything I say, so I just won’t say anything.”

He so easily could have done that, and at least delayed (or maybe even protected himself from) condemnation and death. They would have had to find some other way to condemn him—and perhaps been unable to—had he stopped there.

The Context of Christ’s Victory (v. 69-71)

But he didn’t stop there. Even though he is right in saying nothing he says will change their opinion of him, he goes on anyway.

V. 69:

69 But from now on the Son of Man shall be seated at the right hand of the power of God.”

Now this is a very loaded sentence, because in just a few words Jesus unpacks a wealth of biblical theology.

Let’s take it little by little.

But from now on the Son of Man...

“The Son of Man,” as we saw a few months ago, when we looked at Jesus’s sermon on the Mount of Olives, was Jesus’s favorite way of referring to himself. It was a daring title, because everyone who knew the Jewish Scriptures knew that the Son of Man was the Messiah whom God had promised to send to deliver his people.

So already, by these three little words, Jesus is making claims about his own identity: he is the promised Messiah.

And not only that, he says that from now on, the Son of Man shall be seated at the right hand of the power of God.

Firstly, he says that he will soon be seated at the right hand of the power of God. In the Bible, to be “seated at God’s right hand” is to be invested with God’s own power and authority. The phrase is taken from , in which David, speaking of the Messiah, says,

The Lord says to my Lord:

“Sit at my right hand,

until I make your enemies your footstool.”

In other words, by telling the Messiah to sit at his right hand, God is giving him power and authority over his enemies.

Secondly, Jesus again uses the phrase “the Son of Man”: From now on the Son of Man shall be seated at the right hand of the power of God.”

So Jesus is essentially combining two texts which speak of the Messiah: with , when he calls himself “the Son of Man.”

“The Son of Man,” as we saw a few months ago, when we looked at Jesus’s sermon on the Mount of Olives, was Jesus’s favorite way of referring to himself (instead of saying, “I did this,” or “I will do this,” he’d say, “The Son of Man will do this”). It was a daring title to give to himself, because everyone who knew the Jewish Scriptures knew that the Son of Man was the Messiah.

So to put it simply, Jesus is making claims about his own identity: he is the promised Messiah.

The term comes from the book of Daniel, chapter 7, verses 13 and 14, in which Daniel reports a vision he had received from God:

: it is taken from the book of Daniel, chapter 7, verses 13 and 14:

13 “I saw in the night visions,

and behold, with the clouds of heaven

there came one like a son of man,

and he came to the Ancient of Days

and was presented before him.

14  And to him was given dominion

and glory and a kingdom,

that all peoples, nations, and languages

should serve him;

his dominion is an everlasting dominion,

which shall not pass away,

and his kingdom one

that shall not be destroyed.

So what Daniel describes here is that day when “one like a son of man” will be presented before the Ancient of Days (God), and being given dominion, and authority, and the eternal reign over God’s kingdom.

I got a lot of flack from a handful of people when we talked about the Olivet Discourse, because I said that although the Bible absolutely does say that Jesus Christ will return, this particular text isn’t talking about his second coming, but rather about his ascension. We see in the book of Acts that after Jesus is raised from the dead, he ascended into heaven before the eyes of his disciples, and took his place on the throne.

Anon, 2016. The Holy Bible: English Standard Version, Wheaton, IL: Crossway Bibles.

This is what we see described in Daniel’s vision, because we have the son of man being presented before the Ancient of Days (God), and being given dominion, and authority, and the eternal reign over God’s kingdom.

And he’s called "one like a son of man” in order to underline the fact that the Messiah, who will have the power and authority of God himself, will not be an angel, or a spirit, but a human being. One person, with two natures: a divine nature and a human nature.

Now we’ve seen all this before in our series. But here’s why it’s such a big deal that this is coming up again, at this moment.

Jesus’s claim that he—the Son of Man—will soon be seated at the right hand of the power of God is a confession of absolute power. It’s like when the greatest baseball player who ever lived, Babe Ruth, pointed at a specific place in the outfield, indicating that he was going to send the ball right there. (And then he did it.) It’s a claim that only someone in an ultimate position of power could make.

But at this point in the story, Jesus has never been more vulnerable. He is standing before the religious leaders of Israel. He is beaten, he is bloodied, and he is tired. He is standing before a council of men who have already decided to condemn him.

Remember the scene. Jesus is standing before the religious leaders of Israel. He is beaten, he is bloodied, and tired.

Remember the scene. Jesus is standing before the religious leaders of Israel. He is beaten, he is bloodied, and tired.

And Jesus gives them far more than they bargained for.

And yet he says that from now on, the Son of Man shall be seated at the right hand of the power of God.

Do you see how incoherent that must have sounded? Perhaps it would have made sense if he had said it on the mountain when he was being transfigured, or as he was calming the storm, or just after raising the dead. But he says this now? When he looks like this?

How is he going to take his place at the right hand of God if he’s in chains? How is he going to exercise power over his enemies if his enemies have beaten him? How is he going to reign over the world if he’s dead?

You can almost hear the religious leaders laughing to themselves: they had him.

All they had to do now was put the final nail in the coffin.

V. 70:

70 So they all said, “Are you the Son of God, then?” And he said to them, “You say that I am.” 71 Then they said, “What further testimony do we need? We have heard it ourselves from his own lips.”

They had him, and they knew they had him, because with this one exchange, they could garner the support of both Rome and the Jewish people.

They could now go to Rome and tell them that Jesus was a political threat, poised to start an uprising, because he claimed to be the Messiah.

And they could put Jesus before the people and say, “This man claims to be the Son of God, and clearly he is not: just look at him. He can’t even save himself.”

The religious leaders didn’t have the authority to put anyone to death. To do that, Rome had to get involved. And now Rome would get involved.

Everyone at the time believed that the promised Messiah would be a political warrior, whom God would send to defeat the Romans and save Israel. So now the religious leaders knew they could go to Rome and claim that Jesus was a threat to them, able to start a political revolt by claiming to be the Messiah.

And not only that, they knew they could get the support of the Jewish people, because he’s claiming to be divine: Son of Man, Son of God.

And here Jesus has not only confirmed that he thinks he’s the Messiah; he’s claiming to be God himself! So not only could they get the support of Rome to condemn him (because he could start a political revolt by claiming to be the Me

V. 70:

And there is not a single person in that room who wouldn’t have known that.

70 So they all said, “Are you the Son of God, then?” And he said to them, “You say that I am.” 71 Then they said, “What further testimony do we need? We have heard it ourselves from his own lips.”

They had him.

This one exchange effectively sealed Jesus’s fate, and if we’ve learned anything from following Jesus so far in this gospel, it is that he is a masterful scholar of the Bible. Of course he knew that by saying these words, he was essentially signing his death sentence.

So why does Jesus say it? Why does he give them the ammunition they need to condemn him?

The answer is simple: it was always his plan to come and die.

The Earned Reign of Christ

And before any of it, before creating the world, God knew exactly what would happen, and how he would fix it.

God himself would take on a human nature, coming to earth as a human baby. He would grow up, and live a life completely without sin—the life God calls all of us to leave. This sinless God-man would take the sins of his people upon himself, and be punished in their place, for their sins. He would be buried, and three days later he would be raised, defeating sin and death; and he would ascend into heaven and take his place at the right hand of God.

This was the plan from the very beginning.

When I was a child my dad worked as a youth pastor at a tiny church in Detroit, Michigan. The pastor of this church was a man named Sam Peterson.

Jesus brought himself here. It was his plan all along, even before he took on human nature and came to earth—even before he created the world itself. Paul tells us in that the plan of God for the salvation of his people was decided before the foundation of the world.

He was an intimidating figure when seen from a distance—in my memory he was impossibly tall (though I was a short kid, so that may have had something to do with it). I don’t remember ever seeing him dressed in anything other than a suit—complete with vest, tie and cufflinks—his hair slicked back on his head in the style of the 1960s, and fairly severe wire-rimmed glasses.

But that’s not how I remember him.

I remember Pastor Peterson sitting cross-legged on the floor with me, in his suit, tossing a ball back and forth. I remember the way my dad talked about him and looked at him, because if my dad ever had a problem, something that he needed help with, Pastor Peterson was the guy who was willing to help. He was one of the few people in attendance at my first birthday party.

Pastor Peterson has always been a mammoth figure in my mind, precisely because he was always ready to make himself small.

Here’s why I bring him up. The story of the life, death and resurrection of Jesus Christ shows us what kind of God our God is: his power is awesome and admirable because it proves itself in what looks like defeat.

And there’s a reason for that. Every human being is created in the image of God, and so responds to the kind of leadership God himself manifests.

Earlier in our worship service we read , in which Paul explains how, as we explained to our son this week, in God’s plan, everything seems backward. When God desired to display the truest manifestation of his power, he didn’t do it through a warrior, but through a man who appeared weak.

This had always been the plan: even the prophecies of the Messiah pointed to this (had the religious leaders only paid attention to their own sacred texts). describes the Messiah not as a victorious warrior, but as a suffering servant, despised by his own people and punished by God for the sins of the people.

We’re going to explore the implications of this reality in the weeks to come, but for today we need to simply sit under it, and perhaps reshape our thinking around it.

The vision in , of the Son of Man taking up his throne and receiving the authority over God’s kingdom, absolutely happened. Jesus Christ is on the throne, and he reigns right now over all of creation.

But Christ did not take up his throne by any outward sign of victory.

Christ took up his throne by dying.

We often think of all of this—Jesus’s interrogation by the religious leaders, his presentation before Herod and Pilate, and his crucifixion (all of which we’ll see in the coming weeks)—as the method by which God saved his people from their sins.

And that is absolutely true. We have been separated from God because of our rebellion against him (which the Bible calls sin), and God provided for us a sacrifice, Jesus Christ, who lived our life and suffered our death so that we might be reconciled to God. This is gloriously, wonderfully true.

But that is not the only thing—or even the main thing—going on in the crucifixion. The crucifixion was not merely a sacrificial event.

It was a coronation.

The Kingdom of God did not come through a spectacular conquering of his enemies—at least not the enemies the people of Israel were expecting. The “enemy” in question here wasn’t Rome at all, but Satan, sin and death. Sin is the enemy, occupying God’s kingdom for a time, and we are all, by our nature, subjects to this foreign occupyer.

And by living the perfect life we are called to live, and taking on the sins of his people, and dying in their place, for their sins, Christ defeated the real enemy. Christ defeated sin by taking it on himself and making it follow him into death; he defeated death by dying and rising again three days later.

And what does a king do after defeating an enemy who has occupied his kingdom? He

By defeating the enemy, Christ took his rightful place on the throne of the kingdom of God. The crucifixion was a coronation ceremony. Christ took his throne by dying.

The Son of Man is, right now, seated at the right hand of God, reigning over this world.

Now of course, he could have simply refused to let sin enter the world in the first place. He could have established and maintained his reign simply because he is God.

But Christ doesn’t merely reign because he is God; his reign was earned.

Of course that’s how it works, because in the kingdom of God, it’s always opposite day. Christ’s momentary weakness, in the end, proved his strength and power; it is through death that he took his rightful place on the throne.

Application

I got a lot of flack a while back when I preached on Jesus’s sermon on the Mount of Olives, in which he alludes to Daniel’s vision in , the text we read a bit earlier.

At the end of , we leave Jesus in a sad state: beaten, bloody, exhausted, falsely accused and interrogated. He has told the truth about himself, and yet the religious leaders have drawn unfair conclusions about what he has said, and are ready to turn him over to Herod and Pilate, to secure his condemnation.

And it is in this context that he affirms his victory:

“But from now on the Son of Man shall be seated at the right hand of the power of God.”

There are fewer verses in the Bible that should be more reassuring for the Christian than . Firstly, because he doesn’t say a long time from now, or someday, or in two thousand years—he says, From now on. Because of what is just about to happen, I will take my place at the right hand of God. My enthronement is imminent.

“But from now on the Son of Man shall be seated at the right hand of the power of God.”

Anon, 2016. The Holy Bible: English Standard Version, Wheaton, IL: Crossway Bibles.

Secondly, because if Jesus is right (and spoiler alert: he’s always right), then that means that ever since he returned to be with his Father, he has been reigning. He has been seated at the right hand of the power of God, in this place of authority which he has earned through his life, death and resurrection.

Secondly, because if Jesus is right (and spoiler alert: he’s always right), then that means that ever since he returned to be with his Father, he has been reigning. He has been seated at the right hand of the power of God, in this place of authority which he has earned through his life, death and resurrection.

Jesus Christ will not only reign forever in the future; he reigns today. And his reign was secured in the context of what seemed like utter defeat.

Think about what this means for us.

Jesus Christ reigns today, a crucified King. He still bears the marks of the nails in his hands and feet, and those marks are the proof that the sovereign reign he exercises today was earned.

Our King still bears the marks of the nails in his hands and feet.

What this means for our doubts

What this means for our struggles

What this means for our worship

Firstly, it means that Jesus Christ is relatable.

Of course no one can relate to the infinite sacrifice we see on display at the cross, because none of us has given as much as he did. But he can relate to us.

Think of your most painful memory, the moment when you were most wounded, when you felt the weakest, when you felt the most alone. Jesus Christ knows what that feels like. He is not indifferent to our pain, because he felt our pain, and so much more.

Secondly it means that Christ is humble.

As Paul said in , although Christ is God himself, he didn’t seek to be worshiped and served as God during his earthly ministry—rather, he served us. He served people he himself had created. He served people who rejected him. He served people who hated him.

And it was precisely because of this humility, taken to its culmination at the cross, that God highly exalted him, and bestowed on him the name that is above every name, 10 so that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, in heaven and on earth and under the earth, 11 and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father ().

on him the name that is above every name, 10 so that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, in heaven and on earth and under the earth, 11 and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father.

Christ reigns today, absolutely—but he reigns as a King who was crucified for his people; he doesn’t reign with ruthless authority, but with self-sacrificing love.

Anon, 2016. The Holy Bible: English Standard Version, Wheaton, IL: Crossway Bibles.

Thirdly, it means that he is powerful.

I know it sounds strange to say that, in this particular context. Our temptation will be to put his power at odds with his humility. We always make distinctions like this: we imagine that suffering is antithetical to victory, that trials are the enemy of hope, that defeat is the enemy of power. We even separate our lives out in something like chapters: “I’m in a season of suffering,” or “I feel like I’m in a really victorious moment in my life.”

But how often do we think about the relationship between the two? What if suffering wasn’t the enemy of victory? What if hope was proved in trials? What if power came through defeat?

The biblical story tells us exactly that.

Christ related to his people by taking on a human nature, and he humbly served his people during his earthly life. And it was precisely because of this humility, taken to its culmination at the cross, that God highly exalted him, and bestowed on him the name that is above every name, 10 so that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, in heaven and on earth and under the earth, 11 and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father ().

Jeremy Treat said this: “The cross is not a defeat that needs to be undone by the resurrection; the cross is a victory that needs to be unveiled by the resurrection.” Christ reigns today, absolutely—but he reigns as a King who was crucified for his people; he doesn’t reign with ruthless authority, but with self-sacrificing love.

Christ reigns today, absolutely—but he reigns as a King who was crucified for his people; he doesn’t reign with ruthless authority, but with self-sacrificing love.

What we’re going to see in the next few passages runs counter to everything that seems and feels logical to us. It doesn’t make sense to us that God would fulfill his plan in this way.

Jesus’s two arguments: logical and biblical

Think about what it means for our doubts. Christians cherry-pick certain parts of the Bible to read (usually texts about God’s blessings and the promise of happiness and prosperity), and they have a hard time swallowing them because they look around them and see people suffering everywhere. They see Christians getting cancer. They see children of God having miscarriages. They see suffering in their own lives—unexpected loss, unfulfilled goals, broken relationships.

So they doubt. They look at the promises of the Bible, and they look at their own very imperfect lives, and they wonder how God’s promises could possibly be true.

But if they would only pay attention to the life of Christ, and the whole of biblical narrative, they would see that God’s promises are rarely fulfilled the way we expect. They would see that even for the Son of God, victory came through what seemed like defeat. They would see that Christ suffered what he suffered, not for immediate happiness, but for the joy that was set before him ().

If that’s you, and you tend to doubt the goodness of God because of the suffering in your own life, remember this text. Our God accomplishes victory through what seems like defeat. Don’t doubt that he will make good on his promises; trust that he is fulfilling his promises for you even in your suffering.

Think about what it means for our struggles. We saw this last week, when we looked at Peter’s denial of Christ. God wastes nothing. He redeems even our mistakes to draw us to him and to make us like him. He used the most horrendous sin in human history—the rejection and murder of the Son of God—to reconcile his people with himself.

So rather than resting under the weight of your struggles, ask God to use them. Ask him to keep the memory of your sin firm in your mind, so that you might flee it in the future. Ask the Holy Spirit to help you fight your sin—not just so that you won’t sin, but so that the fight itself might help bring out God’s character in you.

Most importantly, think about what this means for our worship.

We pass far too quickly over the fact that our King is a crucified King, as Jeremy Treat put it. He did not come running in like the warriors in 300. He came as an infant, who grew into a man, who lived humbly and served others, who took on the weight of our sin, and who achieved victory through his own death in our place.

So do not worship Christ as a faraway figure who is too great to touch. Worship Christ as the suffering servant he was in his life, and as the King who took his reign through his service to us........

He can relate to us. He knows pain. He knows rejection. He knows fear.

God achieves his plan in this way to prove both his power and his goodness. Power: Through the cross, God shows us that he can redeem anything: even brokenness itself. Goodness: Througj the cross, he shows us he is willing to not leave us alone in our darkest places, but rather to join us there.

But God did it this way to prove both his power and his goodness. Christ displays his power at the cross, because there he shows us that he can redeem anything: even brokenness itself. And Christ displays his goodness at the cross, because there he shows us he is willing to not leave us alone in our darkest places, but rather to join us there, and bear the weight of our suffering for us.

Reminder: Son of Man (); seated at my right hand (, ).

He was good enough to bring himself close, to take on our flesh, to die as we do, to precede us in death, and to secure a place for us with him. And he has not changed.

We’ll explore our response to these realities in the next few weeks, but for now, let’s just sit under them. Let’s take a moment of quiet reflection and prayer, and during this time let’s rest under his humility and his power. Let’s rest under his goodness and might. Let’s take a moment to fix our eyes on Christ, and worship him as King.

Jesus’s confirmation: He is the Son of God.

What does the Bible mean when it calls Jesus “the Son”?

Condescending language: the Son isn’t the Father’s son in the same that Jack is my son, because Jack and I are not one.

He is like me, but he is not me.

Piper:

Sons of kings were their primary ambassadors. When a king sent his son, it

Jesus is God:

Lewis: When you beget, you beget something of the same kind as yourself. A man begets human babies, a beaver begets little beavers, and a bird begets eggs which turn into little birds. But when you make (or create), you make something of a different kind from yourself. A bird makes a nest, a beaver builds a dam, and man makes a wireless set (or a computer) . . .

This is Condescending language: the Son isn’t the Father’s son in the same that Jack is my son, because Jack and I are not one.

He is like me, but he is not me.

The Father is not the Son…but they are together with the Spirit one God.

God has a unique love for Jesus.

Colossians: “the Son of God’s love”

Twice in Christ’s earthly ministry: “This is my beloved Son.”

Although of course we can and must affirm that God loves his children, he has never split the heavens open for any of us to declare for everyone to hear, “This is my son,” or “This is my daughter.”

Jesus’s being the Son of God is a threat to the religious leaders—the Son of God is God, and has authority and power over his enemies.

This declaration is essentially a death sentence for Jesus, because he is a man making himself equal with God, which was called blasphemy—an offense punishable by death under the law of Moses. (v. 71)

If this is the case, why does Jesus say it? Why does he give them the ammo they need to condemn him?

Because it has always been his plan to die. (cf. )

Christ took his throne by dying. The crucifixion was a coronation ceremony.

He doesn’t reign simply because he is God; his reign was earned.

We’re going to explore the implications of this reality in the weeks to come, but for today we need to simply sit under it, and perhaps rethink our shaping.

The Kingdom of God does not come through a spectacular conquering of enemies—at least not in the way we would expect.

The “enemies” of God are Satan, sin and death—and we are all naturally subjects to this foreign occupier.

It is through his death and resurrection that Christ conquered Satan, sin and death.

So in the kingdom of God, very often victory looks like defeat.

Helps us make sense of much of Jesus’s language (the last will be first, anyone who loses his life for my sake will find it).

Helps us make sense of seeming defeats in our own lives (cf. last week).

He is, right now, seated at the right hand of God, reigning over this world.

He doesn’t reign simply because he is God; his reign was earned.

So we, his children, have nothing to fear.

The sovereign King of the universe is omnipresent, so he is always at our side.

Nothing that happens in this world happens without his permission, or without a reason.

Rest in his victory. Rest in his reign. Rest in his goodness. Rest in his power.

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