inside the story

The worst came true: the grain of wheat fell into the ground and died (Jn. 12:24-26). But the hour of death’s triumph could not endure. This day, on Easter, we celebrate His rising as the firstfruits of the new creation. In His resurrection body we see the making right of everything twisted by Adam’s rebellion and our own depraved hearts. Light invades darkness, and the outcome is certain. “God plants his kingdom in the cursed ground,” wrote Bonheoffer. The cost was great, the joy was greater. The death was grievous, the life was abundant. To get inside this story breaks our conceptions of reality and our subconscious standards of what ought to be and of what is.

John Calvin clearly got inside the story, and the result remains one of the most beautiful, vibrant descriptions of the life and work of Christ I’ve ever read: “For he was sold, to buy us back; captive, to deliver us; condemned, to absolve us; he was made a curse for our blessing; sin offering for our righteousness; marred that we may be made fair; he died for Our life; so that by him fury is made gentle, wrath appeased, darkness turned into light, fear reassured, despisal despised, debt canceled, labor lightened, sadness made merry, misfortune made fortunate, difficulty easy, disorder ordered, division united, ignominy ennobled, rebellion subjected, intimidation intimidated, ambush uncovered, assaults assailed, force forced back, combat combated, war warred against, vengeance avenged, torment tormented, damnation damned, the abyss sunk into the abyss, hell transfixed, death dead, mortality made immortal. In short, mercy has swallowed up all misery, and goodness all misfortune. For all these things which were to be the weapons of the devil in his battle against us, and the sting of death to pierce us, are turned for us into exercises which we can turn to our profit. If we are able to boast with the apostle, saying, O hell, where is thy victory? O death, where is thy sting?”

In our state of need, the Suffering Servant lifts up our heads. In the fight against our flesh, the world, and the devil, our King reigns through the victory—the paradox—of the cross. In His sufficiency, we are healed, renewed, made strong to love. He has done everything necessary for our salvation, and beyond it for our adoption as sons and our full assurance of hope in this present age before His return.

Ian Hamilton’s prayer could not be more convicting: “Please forgive us that unceasing thanksgiving is not the unceasing response of our hearts to the sacrifice of the Lord Jesus Christ. May we be men and women bound in gratitude for the redeeming blood of Christ.”

I’ll never forget what one of my professors once said of the Aaronic blessing—that it is pronounced over us because it was withheld from the Son of God. All the love and security and joy of the Father’s presence was dashed from Christ in that dark hour on the cross so that we, bought by His love, might inherit that light and peace. In the breadth and width and height and depth of our glorious inheritance we see the outline of its cost:

“The Lord bless you and keep you;

the Lord make his face to shine upon you and be gracious to you;

the Lord lift up his countenance upon you and give you peace.

So shall they put my name upon the people of Israel, and I will bless them.”

The only response, pure and simple, is joyful gratitude. In this alone we find the marriage of glorifying and enjoying—the fulfillment of the purpose for which we were created. “Man,” wrote Bonheoffer, “lives in faith of his justification and sanctification; he can never say: I am good, he always must say: ‘forgive my debts’ ad he must believe in his justification. . . Grace is made the only and new foundation of human life.”

Yes, grace undoes us, but in the undoing we are remade. There is perhaps no better way to paint the colors of resurrection hope than does Peter in his epistle: “According to his great mercy, he has caused us to be born again to a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead, to an inheritance that is imperishable, undefiled, and unfading, kept in heaven for you, who by God’s power are being guarded through faith for a salvation ready to be revealed in the last time. . . Though you have not seen him, you love him. Though you do not now see him, you believe in him and rejoice with joy that is inexpressible and filled with glory, obtaining the outcome of your faith, the salvation of your souls (1 Pet. 1:3-5).”

In this reality we live and run, yet every day we need awakening. For several weeks now I’ve been returning to a prayer in Valley of Vision which cries out for this very thing: “I am pardoned through the blood of Jesus—give me a new sense of it, continue to pardon me by it, may I come to the fountain, and every day be washed anew, that I may worship thee always in spirit and truth.”