The Grace of the Empty

Maybe we focus on the Cross so much because it's easier to explain.

That goes all around- I mean, as a symbol, the Cross is much easier to recognize than an empty tomb. It is simplistic and easily recreated in image form. Then there is the idea of the Cross- that it is where a man died in our place. Sacrifice is an idea that every world culture understands- from pagan gods demanding human sacrifice to appease them, to the Jewish belief of animal sacrifice and giving of the first fruits from the Torah, to the samurai's sepuku (aka hari kari) which was sacrifice that could restore lost honor. We get that Jesus died for us because, even if we don't agree that we needed it, we understand why He would do it. And if you don't believe Jesus was the Son of God, then you can still grasp the weight of His death as a martyr.

But the Resurrection? That's another story. Quite literally.

See, Jesus coming back can seem almost superfluous. I mean, He died an unjust death for our sins- we are forgiven by the wounds He received (Isaiah 53:5). The separation we experience from God, as symbolized by the curtain in the Temple hiding the Holy of Holies, is gone (Mark 15:38). Jesus offers us forgiveness, even if we don't know what we are doing (Luke 23:34). And then, to cap it all off, Jesus says, "It is finished." (John 19:30) All that work is accomplished ON THE CROSS. So, why did Jesus rise?

I think the answer is simple. While the Cross was about the work needed to accomplish the Will of God, the empty tomb was about something else. We get the Cross because we get the idea of a system of justice- balance. Evil is punished by God, even if the punishment is given to a substitute. We may not get why Jesus chose to die for the wrongs done against God (actually, using that idea, Jesus died for the wrongs done against Jesus as well) in our place, but we can wrap our heads around the idea that a wrong had to be punished. The Cross was the fulfillment of the Law. Sin was punished. Slates were cleaned. "It is finished."

Then, if the Cross is about the work, then the empty tomb is about grace. And we do not understand grace.

Sure, the argument is valid that the Cross was about Grace as well- it was. But the Empty Tomb took it to a whole other level. Up until Jesus went into the tomb, Christianity had a figurehead that was not unlike any other religious leader in all of history. He had died for His people. In fact, had He not risen, the argument that Jesus is the only way would be rather deflated. The Resurrection was pure Grace. It could not be accomplished by the sheer will of man, nor his work, nor his schemes. No man- save for Jesus and a couple God fueled prophets- could bring another back from the dead, let alone bring themselves back. Every other person who died and was resurrected was brought back by another person.

Jesus just got up.

Unlike the spectacle of the Cross, the Empty Tomb was rather quiet- even with the angels and the earthquake and the terrified guards. No one saw Jesus walk out, but they saw Him later, ate with Him and touched His scars. Some of the people who saw Him didn't even recognize Him until He had gone. He was physically alive (eating and drinking and being touched) but appeared and disappeared at will.

The Cross, for all its horror, gore, and sacrifice makes sense to us. The Cross does not.

But then, Grace escapes us as well. Getting what we don't deserve (in the positive sense, at least) is not natural. Yet, this is Grace. Getting life when we deserve death is how Grace breathes into our lives. We understand working hard for rewards, but don't have any idea what to do with riches we get that are unearned. Google lottery winners sometime for validation of that theory.

Legalism is more comforting to us because it provides a way we can 'earn' our grace. Simply having Grace bestowed is counter to human rationale. But then, it was human rationale that made the Cross necessary wasn't it?

The Empty Tomb is what Grace does with the Cross. While the Work was done on the Cross, it is the Empty Tomb that takes our forgiven souls and gives them life- a second chance. No, the Empty Tomb is not superfluous, or a really cool after thought. It is essential to Will of God. If we deny that Jesus rose, then we deny the second chance we are given. If we accept all there is to know about Jesus from birth to Cross, but balk at the Resurrection, we deny Him as our Lord and Savior. We refuse our second chance.

And what a second chance it is. No longer based on working to meet a standard that we'll never reach, we live by Grace. Yes, we long to be a better person, to know Christ more, but we do it by Grace, not our own strength. And to be honest, even for me that doesn't make sense sometimes.

But I need only look at the Empty Tomb to be reminded that just because something doesn't make sense doesn't mean it isn't true.

The Cross

I don't wear crosses anymore.

I have a ring I got when I was in college that I've kept, but I don't buy shirts emblazoned with a cross or wear necklaces that dangle a silver shape down the front of my shirt. Part of the reason for this is that I just don't find the cross terribly fashionable. But a big reason is that the cross as fashion has no meaning to me.

I've noticed, especially since the early part of the 2000's, that the cross is a growing symbol. Ed Hardy-esque shirts have the cross in the midst of tattoo like graffiti. James Avery made the cross jewelry fad super popular- its where my never worn ring came from. Now one can find crosses fashioned with baubles of all colors, shapes and sizes, from pink to black. I see celebrities wearing their crosses and talking about who made them. Cross tattoos are common on rappers, rockers - usually seen on arms extending a middle finger or knocking back large quantities of liquor - and athletes.

I don't wear crosses because they don't mean anything anymore.

Not theologically, of course- they will always have meaning for me there- but in the public eye the cross is just decoration. I remember a class in college that talked about how a culture group or ethnicity would take a slur, a negative nickname, and claim it as their own. In doing so, they lessened the sting of the vulgar word to the point their bigoted enemies would stop using it because it had no affect on them. Christianity co-opted the Cross and made good use of it for a couple thousand years, turning the image of a death instrument into a symbol of hope. But now, the over-saturated image has lost it's punch.

The cross used to bring to mind forgiveness, rescue, sacrifice, despair and hope. Once, a wearer of a cross was identified WITH the Cross- no person who didn't believe would wear it. The Cross was a definer of us. Now it is an accessory.

So, with Good Friday coming soon, I've been thinking about the Cross. About how I won't wear a cross until my view of the Cross is right. If I ever put one on again, I want it to be a reminder of the horror of that day. Of the copious amounts of blood that was shed. Of the torn and mutilated flesh of Christ as He hung there, shedding more forgiveness that He shed blood and sweat. I want to remember that it was my sin that made Him choose to die this way, on this barbaric death-torture device. That it was me He forgave for not knowing what I was doing. That when He finally breathed His last, and said it was finished, He was really just beginning.

I want to once again look at a cross and be reminded of Christ, not a designer. I want to be broken, shattered to the point of tears when I gaze upon the horrific and beautiful Cross. I want to to be shocked out of apathy when I see that symbol that speaks deeply of Jesus love and sacrifice for me.

I want to wear a cross again only when it means as much to me as it did to Jesus.

Art in Me

I lack art in my life.

Now, I'm not an art lover- or an artist in the professional sense- but there are times when an image catches my eye, or a thought snags hold of my consciousness, and I see something deeper there. I'm not an artist with paints or sculptures, and while I like taking somewhat artistic pictures, its not really a deep heart kind of art. Despite the pitiful rhyming in that last sentence, I feel the art I make is with words. Writing and speaking. I like the idea of having a concept enter my mind and finding a way to convey it to others in an understandable and beautiful way.

That's really what art is- having a notion planted in one's mind and desperately trying to share with the world this thing that has come to consume their lives- even if the time of consumption is for a few minutes while they bang out a message. I think good art comes from a sort of compulsion or need to pour out that which is inside of you. And which you often don't fully understand even as you create it.

When I think about it that way, I realize that when I am closest to God is when I am seeing the art in things. The complexities of a person, the beauty in sunsets or architecture, or the depth of a story all create art in me that cries to escape. I seek God, asking why I've seen this thing, experienced this wonder, and then seek to share with others how it has affected me.

Lately, I've not had my art-eyes on. I've felt rather bland in life, distant even. I'm not sure how it happens, but there is a melancholy that sets in from time to time. It saps my zest for life- for real, good life that is- and replaces it will hollow pursuits. Time wasters at best, God nullifying sin at worst. Some artists do their best work in their melancholy- but for me it is the hope of restoration that produces good in me.

And I'm not just talking about creating art like paintings or writings, I believe we are living art, the way we live with each other, the way we love and care for one another, and the way we attempt to share the love of the One who first loved us is our art- regardless of our skill with a brush or pen. So, when my art eyes are off, it's not just my writing that suffers- it is the life I live.

So often, I am aware of the beauty around me, but I don't see it. More often, I see the wonder of God's work around me, but I don't understand it. Usually, I am caught in this weird in-between place where I am captivated by the temporary stuff I see now- which is beautiful- and at the same time hungry for something more, something deeper and more eternal. This is God's fault.

I have seen the burden God has laid on the human race. He has made everything beautiful in its time. He has also set eternity in the human heart; yet no one can fathom what God has done from beginning to end
Ecclesiastes 3:10-11

The reason why all art doesn't appeal to all people is that some people can't see a Picasso the way Picasso intended them to see it. Yep, I'm one of those people. We can appreciate the beauty of the colors, and we can sense there is something he's trying to convey, but we grow frustrated and dismiss it because we can't understand it. God made everything beautiful in its time, yet somewhere deep in our hearts is a longing for more. A feeling that this thing so captivating is seriously less than what we desire. On the other side, we spend our days at work and struggling to make ends meet, and stay healthy, and we know that that Jesus came to give us more. We long to live a life that matters, to TRULY make a difference.

And so we are artists, all of us. God places in us this idea of eternity that we don't understand, yet we feel compelled to share this thing inside of us with others. Others we feel won't understand us, or will put down the "art" we show them. And then there is the beauty of the "Now" things (and here, I'm talking about the good things that God has made beautiful). How can our "art" compete with that?

We are stuck between here and eternity. Our choice is to be frustrated with that reality, which will ultimately lead us to give in to the lesser things that are not beauty by God because they are easier- Or we can make "art." Not for the approval of others, not even really for our own validation. No, we make "art," pouring out the hard-to-understand eternity God placed in our hearts to the best of our ability. And yes, some will see our "art" as jumbled shapes and jibber-jabber, just like some people see Picasso's art, and not get it. But there will be others who get their own glimpse of the eternity God placed in their heart, and they will seek more of it.

We do this to glorify God.

For a while now, I've not glorified God with my life. I've stopped seeing the art of eternity, and settled for the muted tones of this world. Occasionally, art comes out of my life- that just shows the power of the gift God has given us.

But just the other day, I was walking down the street, and I saw an old Courthouse. In the light, the old bricks and years of wear and tear were peeled back, and I could see something deeper to it. I wished I had a camera to try to capture that moment of deeper beauty.

And God tapped me on the shoulder and said, simply, "This is you." Deep within me, under the layers of sloth and sin, eternity is bubbling up. I may not understand what it all means, but I must share Him with you. And I must put down the lesser tools of self-gratification and take up the tools of reavealing God.

Let's make art.