And when he had
said these things, he went on ahead, going up to Jerusalem. 29 When he
drew near to Bethphage and Bethany, at the mount that is called Olivet,
he sent two of the disciples, 30 saying, “Go into the village in front
of you, where on entering you will find a colt tied, on which no one has
ever yet sat. Untie it and bring it here. 31 If anyone asks you, ‘Why
are you untying it?’ you shall say this: ‘The Lord has need of it.’” 32
So those who were sent went away and found it just as he had told them.
33 And as they were untying the colt, its owners said to them, “Why are
you untying the colt?” 34 And they said, “The Lord has need of it.” 35
And they brought it to Jesus, and throwing their cloaks on the colt,
they set Jesus on it. 36 And as he rode along, they spread their cloaks
on the road. 37 As he was drawing near – already on the way down the
Mount of Olives – the whole multitude of his disciples began to rejoice
and praise God with a loud voice for all the mighty works that they had
seen, 38 saying, “Blessed is the King who comes in the name of the Lord!
Peace in heaven and glory in the highest!” 39 And some of the Pharisees
in the crowd said to him, “Teacher, rebuke your disciples.” 40 He
answered, “I tell you, if these were silent, the very stones would cry
out.” 41 And when he drew near and saw the city, he wept over it, 42
saying, “Would that you, even you, had known on this day the things
that make for peace! But now they are hidden from your eyes. 43 For the
days will come upon you, when your enemies will set up a barricade
around you and surround you and hem you in on every side 44 and tear you
down to the ground, you and your children within you. And they will not
leave one stone upon another in you, because you did not know the time
of your visitation.”
Before we get
back to Romans 9 the Sunday after Easter, I wanted to preach a message
that is partly an overflow of one of the books I worked on during the
writing leave. (It will probably be called Don’t Waste Your Life.)
Actually, this message is the overflow of more than the book.
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It’s the overflow of conversations with John Erickson about his vision for ministry in the city.
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It’s the overflow of conversations with my son Benjamin about what it means to be a merciful person on the street.
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It’s the overflow of reading Timothy Keller’s book, Ministries of Mercy: The Call of the Jericho Road.
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It’s the overflow of the
seminar I did on Prayer, Meditation, and Fasting a few weeks ago, as I
pondered what it really means to enjoy fellowship with Jesus and
anticipate meeting him face to face very shortly and giving an account
of the way I have thought, for example, about giving to people who ask
for money. I remember, specifically, in one of those hours asking the
class: Suppose you die and you’re standing before Jesus Christ, who
surrendered his body to spitting and shame and torture and death so that
undeserving sinners (like you and me) might be drawn into eternal joy,
and he inquires how you handled the people who asked you for money – you
know, panhandlers, beggars, street people, drunks, drifters. What would
you say?I suggested to them, and I suggest to you now, you’re not going
to feel very good about saying, “I never got taken advantage of. I saw
through their schemes. I developed really shrewd counter-questions that
would expose them. So I hardly ever had to give anything.” Do you know
what I think the Lord Jesus is going to say to that – the Lord Jesus,
the consummately, willingly, savingly abused and exploited Jesus? I
think he is going to say, “That was an exquisite imitation of the world.
Even sinners give to those who deserve to be given to. Even sinners
pride themselves on not being taken advantage of.” Well this message is a
spillover of some of those thoughts.
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And it’s a spillover of a
conversation that Noël and I had at Annie’s Parlor a little over a week
ago as we assessed our lives how we wanted the next ten years to look –
if God gives us ten – in regard to practical deeds mercy. What do we
want Talitha to see in the city? What kind of Jesus do we want her to
see living through us in Philips neighborhood on 11th Avenue? Do we want
her to remember someday when we are gone: my folks were shrewd? Or do
we want her to remember: My folks were merciful?
Palm Sunday: An Event of Insight and Misunderstanding
Well, that’s
what led me to choose this text for Palm Sunday. It’s a Palm Sunday
text. Palm Sunday is the day in the church year when traditionally we
mark the entrance of Jesus into Jerusalem for the last week of his life.
It’s an event of great insight and great misunderstanding. The great
insight was that this Jesus really is “the King who comes in the name of
the Lord” (Luke 19:38).
He was the Messiah, the Son of David, the long-awaited Ruler of Israel,
the fulfillment of all God’s promises. But the great misunderstanding
was that he would enter Jerusalem and by his mighty works, take his
throne and make Israel free from Rome.
It wasn’t going
to be that way: he would take his throne but it would be through
voluntary suffering and death and resurrection. The first sermon Peter
preached after the resurrection comes to an end with the words, “This
Jesus God raised up” so that he was “exalted at the right hand of God” (Acts 2:32-33). And the apostle Paul says that he is now King: “He must reign until he has put all his enemies under his feet” (1 Corinthians 15:25; see Ephesians 1:20; Colossians 3:1).
So Palm Sunday
was a day of insight and a day of misunderstanding. The insight gave
joy, and the misunderstanding brought about destruction – the murder of
Jesus a few days later, and the destruction of Jerusalem 40 years later.
And Jesus saw it all coming.
And what I want
to focus on this morning is Jesus’ response to this blindness and
hostility that he was about to meet in Jerusalem. Indeed, he met it
already in this very text. The crowds were crying out in verse 38,
“Blessed is the King who comes in the name of the Lord!” But in the
very next verse it says, “Some of the Pharisees in the crowd said to
him, ‘Teacher, rebuke your disciples’” (Luke 19:39).
So Jesus knew what was about to happen. The
Pharisees were going to get the upper hand. The people would be fickle
and follow their leaders. And Jesus would be rejected and crucified. And
within a generation the city would be obliterated. Look how Jesus says
it in verses 43-44:
For the days
will come upon you, when your enemies will set up a barricade around you
and surround you and hem you in on every side and tear you down to the
ground, you and your children within you. And they will not leave one
stone upon another in you, because you did not know the time of your
visitation.
God had visited them in his Son, Jesus Christ – “he came to his own, and his own received him not” (John 1:11).
They did not know the time of their visitation. So they stumbled over
the stumbling stone. The builders rejected the stone and threw it away.
Jesus saw this sin and this rebellion and this blindness coming. How did
he respond? Verse 41-42: “And when he drew near and saw the city, he wept over it, saying, ‘Would that you, even you, had known on this day the things that make for peace! But now they are hidden from your eyes.’” Jesus wept over the blindness and the impending misery of Jerusalem.
How would you describe these tears? You can see from the title of this message that I call them, “Palm Sunday Tears of Sovereign Mercy.”
The effect that I pray this will have on us is, first, to make us
admire Christ, and treasure him above all others and worsh675=-097Yip
him as our merciful Sovereign; and, second, that seeing the beauty of
his mercy, we become merciful with him and like him and because of him
and for his glory. (Photo below via injesus.wordpress.com)
Admiring Christ’s Merciful Sovereignty and Sovereign Mercy
First, then
let’s admire Christ together. What makes Christ so admirable, and so
different than all other persons – what sets him apart as unique and
inimitable – matchless, peerless – is that he unites in himself so many
qualities that in other people are contrary to each other. That’s why I
put together the words “sovereign” and “merciful.”
We can imagine supreme sovereignty, and we can imagine tenderhearted
mercy. But who do we look to combine in perfect proportion merciful
sovereignty and sovereign mercy? We look to Jesus. No other religious or
political contender even comes close.
Look at three pointers in this text to his sovereignty. First, verse
37: “As he was drawing near – already on the way down the Mount of
Olives – the whole multitude of his disciples began to rejoice and
praise God with a loud voice for all the mighty works that they had
seen.” Jesus had made a name for himself as the worker of
miracles, and they remembered them. He had healed leprosy with a touch;
he had made the blind see and the deaf hear and the lame walk; he had
commanded the unclean spirits and they obeyed him; he had stilled storms
and walked on water and turned five loaves and two fish into a meal for
thousands. So as he entered Jerusalem, they knew nothing could stop
him. He could just speak and Pilate would perish; the Romans would be
scattered. He was sovereign.
Then look,
secondly, at verse 38. The crowds cried out: “Blessed is the King who
comes in the name of the Lord! Peace in heaven and glory in the
highest!” Jesus was a King, and not just any king, but the one sent and
appointed by the Lord God. They knew how Isaiah had described him:
Of the increase
of his government and of peace there will be no end, on the throne of
David and over his kingdom, to establish it and to uphold it with
justice and with righteousness from this time forth and forevermore. The
zeal of the Lord of hosts will do this.” (Isaiah 9:7)
A universal,
never-ending kingdom backed by the zeal of almighty God. Here was the
King of the universe, who today rules over the nations and the galaxies,
and for whom America and Iraq are a grain of sand and a vapor.
Third, verse 40.
When the Pharisees tell him to make the people stop blessing him as a
king, he answers, “I tell you, if these were silent, the very stones
would cry out (Luke 19:40).
Why? Because he will be praised! The whole design of the universe is
that Christ be praised. And therefore, if people won’t do it, he will
see to it that rocks do it. In other words, he is sovereign. He will get
what he means to get. If we refuse to praise, the rocks will get the
joy.
It is remarkable, therefore, that the tears of Jesus in verse 41 are so often used to deny his sovereignty. Someone will say, “Look,
he weeps over Jerusalem because his design for them, his will for them,
is not coming to pass. He would delight in their salvation. But they
are resistant. They are going to reject him. They are going to hand him
over to be crucified.” And so his purpose for them has failed. But there is something not quite right about this objection to Jesus’ sovereignty.
He can make
praise come from rocks. And so he could do the same from rock-hard
hearts in Jerusalem. What’s more, all this rejection and persecution and
killing of Jesus is not the failure of Jesus’ plan, but the fulfillment
of it. Listen to what he said in Luke 18:31-33 a short time before:
And taking the
twelve, he said to them, “See, we are going up to Jerusalem, and
everything that is written [planned!] about the Son of Man by the
prophets will be accomplished. 32 For he will be delivered over to the
Gentiles and will be mocked and shamefully treated and spit upon. 33 And
after flogging him, they will kill him, and on the third day he will
rise.”
The betrayal,
the mockery, the shame, the spit, the flogging, the murder – and so much
more – was planned. In other words, the resistance, the rejection, the
unbelief and hostility were not a surprise to Jesus. They were, in fact,
part of the plan. He says so. This is probably why it says at the end
of verse 42, “But now they are hidden from your eyes.” Remember what
Jesus said about his parables back in Luke 8:10:
“To you [disciples] it has been given to know the secrets of the
kingdom of God, but for others they are in parables, so that ‘seeing
they may not see, and hearing they may not understand.’” God was handing
them over to hardness. It was judgment.
We have seen all this in Romans 9. The mercy of God is a sovereign mercy. “I will have mercy on whom I have mercy, and I will have compassion on whom I have compassion” (Romans 9:15).
But here is the point I want you to see today: This sovereign Christ
weeps over heard-hearted, perishing Jerusalem as they fulfilled his
plan. It is unbiblical and wrong to make the tears of mercy a
contradiction to the serenity of sovereignty. Jesus was serene in
sorrow, and sorrowful in sovereignty. Jesus’ tears are the tears of
sovereign mercy.
And therefore
his sovereign power is the more admirable and the more beautiful. It’s
the harmony of things that seem in tension that makes him glorious: “Merciful and Mighty,”
as we sing. We admire power more when it is merciful power. And we
admire mercy more when it is mighty mercy. And, as I said, my prayer is
that as you see his mercy and admire his mercy, you will become like him
in his mercy.
There are at
least three ways that Jesus is merciful, which we can draw out of this
context. And I pray that I will become like him in all of these. I pray
that you will too.
Jesus’ Mercy Is Tenderly Moved
First,
Jesus’ mercy is tenderly moved. He feels the sorrow of the situation.
This doesn’t mean his sovereign plan has wrecked on the rocks of human
autonomy. It means that Jesus is more emotionally complex than we think
he is. He really feels the sorrow of a situation. No doubt there is a
deep inner peace that God is in control and that God’s wise purposes
will come to pass. But that doesn’t mean you can’t cry.
In fact, on the
contrary, I appeal to you here: pray that God would give you tears.
There is so much pain in the world. So much suffering far from you and
near you. Pray that God would help you be tenderly moved. When you die
and stand before the Judge, Jesus Christ, and he asks you, “How did you
feel about the suffering around you?” what will you say? I promise you,
you will not feel good about saying, “I saw through to how a lot of
people brought their suffering upon themselves by sin or foolishness.”
You know what I think the Lord will say to that? I think he will say, “I
didn’t ask you what you saw through. I asked you what you felt?” Jesus
felt enough compassion for Jerusalem to weep. If you haven’t shed any
tears for somebody’s losses but your own, it probably means you’re
pretty wrapped up in yourself. So let’s repent of our hardness and ask
God to give us a heart that is tenderly moved.
Jesus’ Mercy Was Self-Denying
Second, Jesus’
mercy was self-denying – not ultimately; there was great reward in the
long run, but very painfully in the short run. This text is part of the
story of Jesus’ moving intentionally toward suffering and death. Jesus
is entering Jerusalem to die. He said so, “We are going up to Jerusalem .
. . and the Son of Man will be delivered up . . . and they will kill
him” (Luke 18:31-33).
This is the meaning of self-denial. This is the way we follow Jesus. We
see a need – for Jesus is was seeing the sin of the world, and broken
bodies, and the misery of hell – and we move with Jesus, whatever it
costs, toward need. We deny ourselves the comforts and the securities
and the ease of avoiding other peoples’ pain. We embrace it. Jesus’
tears were not just the tender moving of his emotions. They were the
tears of a man on his way toward need.
Jesus’ Mercy Intends to Help
That leads us to
the third and last way Jesus is merciful. First, he is tenderly moved,
second he is self-denying and moves toward need. Now third, he intends
to help. Mercy if helpful. It doesn’t just feel – though it does feel –
and it doesn’t just deny itself – though it does deny itself – it
actually does things that help people. Jesus was dying in our place that
we might be forgiven and have eternal life with him. That’s how he
helped.
What will it be
for you? How are you doing in ministries of mercy? How are you and your
roommate, or your housemates, doing together? How is your family doing?
(That’s what Noël and I asked at Annie’s Parlor.) What is tenderly
moving you these days? Is there movement toward pain or suffering or
misery or loss or sadness, that means denying yourself – in the short
run – and multiplying your joy in the long run? And what help are you
actually giving to those in need?
Two prayers: Oh,
that we would see and savor the beauty of Christ – the Palm Sunday
Tears of sovereign joy. And oh, that as we admire and worship him, we
would be changed by what we see and become a more tenderly-moved,
self-denying, need-meeting people.
By John Piper. © Desiring God. Website: desiringGod.org
23 Mar 2013
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