The Crowning of the King (Mark 15.1-20)

For most of us, the significance of a coronation is a bit hard to grasp. The easiest image for me to call to mind is that of the crowning of Aragorn in The Return of the King (because I love Lord of the Rings). For those of you who are British, or if you’re interested in the royal family you probably have a better idea, with the recent crowning of King Charles.

But even if a coronation is a fairly abstract idea for us, I’m guessing everyone has some of the same things in mind when they think of it. Coronations are monumental affairs, filled with pomp and ritual, fine cloth and gold. Most of the time, the entire kingdom comes out to honor the new king; when David was anointed king of Israel, all the tribes of Israel came out to pay tribute to him.

So it’s pretty hard to imagine any similarities between the coronation of a king and the events described in in Mark 15, which tells of the trial, torture and crucifixion of Jesus. But that is indeed what we see here—it is not merely torture and injustice; it is a coronation.

Almost everyone knows the story we’ve just read, at least in a vague way; we’ve seen it in a hundred paintings and sculptures and films.

Mark doesn’t go into all those details, for two reasons. The first, pragmatic reason is that he didn’t need to; he’s writing his gospel just twenty or thirty years after the events he describes. The people reading his book knew perfectly well what flogging and crucifixion were like, because they’d had ample opportunity to see it for themselves.

But the more important reason is that Jesus’s physical suffering is not the main thing Mark or any of the gospel writers want us to think about. His suffering was unbearably horrible; but plenty of people have suffered as much or worse, at least physically. Plenty of Christians have even suffered as much for their faith.

There are two main things that Mark wants us to see when he describes what Christ went through. We’ll see the first thing this week, and the second thing next week.

So here is the first thing—I’ve already spoiled it. Mark wants us to see that this event, awful as it was, was not merely a travesty; it was not merely a sin of incalculable proportions, the murder of the Son of God; it was not merely a tragic betrayal of God and his plan.

It was a coronation. What Mark describes in chapter 15 is the means by which Jesus Christ, the King of the universe, claimed his throne.

I’ve made many mentions of Mark’s love of the “sandwich” structure, in which he says one thing, then moves on to another subject, then comes back to the thing he said at first, in order to make a larger point; he does that here.

So let’s look at the first part of the sandwich, in v. 1-5.

The Silence of the King (v. 1-5)

Remember the context—Jesus has just been tried and condemned by the religious leaders (and Peter has just denied him). The religious leaders have found Jesus guilty of blasphemy, and found him deserving of death (v. 64). But Israel was under Roman occupation at the time, and under Roman law, they could not put Jesus to death themselves. So their only recourse is to submit their case to the Roman governor, who was temporarily in Jerusalem to maintain peace during the Passover, and who had his work cut out for him.

V. 1:

And as soon as it was morning, the chief priests held a consultation with the elders and scribes and the whole council. And they bound Jesus and led him away and delivered him over to Pilate.

We’ve seen this before, but I think it’s worth mentioning again. In the movies you see about Jesus, the Jewish religious leaders are often portrayed as horrendously wicked. And what they did was certainly that.

But what they’re doing shouldn’t surprise us. Remember last week, when they were interrogating him? Jesus quotes Daniel 7, identifying himself as the Son of God, the Son of Man, the Messiah whom God had sent to save his people. So the religious leaders cry blasphemy. The thing is, in any other circumstance, they would have been right. Any ordinary man who claimed to be the Son of God would be committing blasphemy; they’re only wrong because Jesus is telling the truth; he is the Son of God; he is the Messiah.

So their reaction isn’t surprising. What may surprise some of us is that these men had all the proof they needed to believe that Jesus really was who he said. They had seen him perform miracles, they had heard his teaching, they knew as well as anyone what he was doing…and they still didn’t believe.

But even this shouldn’t be surprising. It’s hard to realize how scary it is to have your entire way of life threatened.

Think back to how unsettled everyone was when COVID happened—the government closed everything down, including church services for a good while. Many Christians feared that if we gave in and obeyed the government’s demands, then nothing would stop the government from putting even harsher restrictions on churches for a lot less.

I’m not trying to reopen that debate; I just want us to remember that we know what this feels like—how scary it can be to have your way of life threatened.

These religious leaders had power, and Jesus was a threat to that power; he was, in fact, a threat to everything they held dear—the temple, the law, their rituals and identity… They saw Jesus as a threat to all of that. And it is a very frightening thing to face the prospect of losing your way of life, your national identity, and (maybe especially) the power you’ve amassed for yourself.

So of course, the religious leaders fight to preserve all this, even if it means destroying truth.

And they only way they can do it is to turn Jesus over to the Roman governor, Pilate.

Pilate was not Jewish. He likely knew little and cared little about Jewish customs or culture—he was there to keep the peace and make sure things didn’t get out of hand during the Passover celebration, when thousands of Jews from surrounding regions would flock to the temple.

So now he finds himself in a difficult situation. The religious leaders bring him this man, and in the other gospels we see that they give him a sort of twisted version of their true accusation: they tell Pilate that Jesus claims to be the Christ, the Messiah—”that is, a king” (cf. Luke 23.2). Pilate cares nothing about the charge of blasphemy…but someone claiming to be king would be a threat to the established king in Israel, Herod, and possibly even to Caesar himself.

So Pilate questions Jesus himself. V. 2:

2 And Pilate asked him, “Are you the King of the Jews?” And he answered him, “You have said so.” 3 And the chief priests accused him of many things. 4 And Pilate again asked him, “Have you no answer to make? See how many charges they bring against you.” 5 But Jesus made no further answer, so that Pilate was amazed.

Again, Mark doesn’t give us a lot of details, but we can at least see that Jesus doesn’t answer the way Pilate expected him to—he doesn’t try to defend himself, he doesn’t try to deny the accusations, he just gives a vague answer and then falls silent: not exactly the behavior of someone trying to usurp the throne.

And that’s the first thing that Mark wants us to see. Jesus is the “King of the Jews”; he is, in fact, the King of all things, all peoples, all nations. And yet, when his throne is threatened, he doesn’t rise up with an army to defend it. He humbly takes the abuse, takes the accusations, and stays silent. Pilate didn’t know it, but through his silence, Jesus is fulfilling the prophecy of the Messiah that we find in Isaiah 53.7:

He was oppressed, and he was afflicted,
      yet he opened not his mouth;
                  like a lamb that is led to the slaughter,
      and like a sheep that before its shearers is silent,
      so he opened not his mouth.

His silence isn’t weakness; it is choice. It is sovereignty.

The Condemnation of the King (v. 6-15)

Now Pilate is face with a dilemma. On the one hand, he can find no reason to condemn Jesus, because Jesus is acting like anything but a king trying to undermine the established power. On the other hand, Pilate’s in Jerusalem to keep the peace—and it’s not entirely clear how to do that. He knows what the religious leaders are telling him (and he can see that they’re accusing Jesus out of envy, as we see in v. 10), but he doesn’t know how the people will respond. Maybe condemning Jesus will actually make things worse.

So Pilate decides to test the situation. He had established the practice of releasing one prisoner at every Passover, as a way of currying favor with the people. (Usually it would be someone whom the people felt was wrongly imprisoned.) So would the people prefer he release Jesus, or another prisoner? V. 6:

6 Now at the feast he used to release for them one prisoner for whom they asked. 7 And among the rebels in prison, who had committed murder in the insurrection, there was a man called Barabbas. 8 And the crowd came up and began to ask Pilate to do as he usually did for them.

We don’t know much about this Barabbas, besides what he was imprisoned for. He had committed robbery, murder and insurrection, and may have been a member of a band of guerilla warriors who had risen up against the wealthy upper class in Israel, as well as the Romans—if this is the case, he would have been popular with the common people.

At any rate, what we need to remember is that Barabbas was a man who was recognizably guilty of his crimes; no one thought he had been wrongly imprisoned, no one thought he was innocent.

So Pilate addresses the crowd (v. 9):

9 And he answered them, saying, “Do you want me to release for you the King of the Jews?” 10 For he perceived that it was out of envy that the chief priests had delivered him up. 11 But the chief priests stirred up the crowd to have him release for them Barabbas instead.

Just a quick word on context—people often ask why the crowds who had welcomed Jesus turned against him so quickly. Of course, the easy answer is that they turn against Jesus because God sent him to die—that was the plan. But I also think the religious leaders did a very good job at setting all this up, because only they knew what they were planning to do.

When all of this happens, Pilate is addressing “the crowd”; this would have been in the inner court of the royal palace in Jerusalem, which wasn’t huge—big enough for a couple hundred people, maximum. So the crowd he is addressing is by no means everyone in Jerusalem, and we have no indication from the Bible that this crowd was the same crowd that welcomed Jesus with hosannas at the triumphal entry. This is just a very small portion of the population, which the religious leaders managed to “stir up” against him.

V. 12:

12 And Pilate again said to them, “Then what shall I do with the man you call the King of the Jews?” 13 And they cried out again, “Crucify him.” 14 And Pilate said to them, “Why? What evil has he done?” But they shouted all the more, “Crucify him.” 15 So Pilate, wishing to satisfy the crowd, released for them Barabbas, and having scourged Jesus, he delivered him to be crucified.

This is the center of the sandwich—this is the thing Mark wants to highlight by the contrast he’s making at the beginning and the end of this passage, because what we see here is the gospel in miniature.

Whether or not the crowd demanding Jesus’s death was the same crowd who sang his praises a few days earlier, they all knew who he was; they all knew enough to believe he was who he claimed to be. But they refused to believe he was the Savior, not because they didn’t have reasons enough to believe, but because they didn’t want to believe.

And naturally, we are all like them.

If you drive a car, you probably use Google Maps or Waze or something like that. We’re totally fine letting these apps help us. But if we’re driving with someone else and that person says, “Let’s switch places, I’ll drive,” that’s a different story. We don’t mind being helped, but we don’t necessarily want to give up control.

Naturally, we don’t want a King; we’ll take a Savior who meets our needs, who serves our plans. But we don’t want a King who claims our lives. If we actually pay attention to what Jesus says, left on our own, we don’t want him—he simply asks too much of us.

Left on our own, we’re all like Pilate too. He knew what was right, but he was afraid of what would happen if he didn’t satisfy the crowd. He caved under the pressure. It was far easier, far less risky, to do the job he had been sent there to do, rather than what was right.

And finally, we are all Barabbas. Of course, the Bible says nothing about what happened to him after this. We have no reason to think he believed in Christ. But the image we see here is the very essence of the gospel. Barabbas is guilty and in captivity because of his guilt—and Jesus takes his place. That is the gospel: the guilty go free because the innocent dies in their place. The apostle Paul would develop this much more deeply in his letters—in theology it’s referred to as “penal substitutionary atonement”. Jesus takes our guilt on himself, is punished in our place, so that we might go free.

What Mark wants us to see here is that the One taking our place—the innocent condemned in place of the guilty—is no ordinary do-gooder; he is not simply an innocent man. The One who takes the place of God’s sinful people is the people’s sinless King.

The Crowning of the King (v. 16-20)

And that’s what we see in the outer sections of the sandwich, which highlight Jesus’s identity as King. Pilate began by asking Jesus the question: “Are you the King of the Jews?” Then the King is exchanged for a prisoner. And finally, the King receives his crown.

16 And the soldiers led him away inside the palace (that is, the governor’s headquarters), and they called together the whole battalion. 17 And they clothed him in a purple cloak, and twisting together a crown of thorns, they put it on him. 18 And they began to salute him, “Hail, King of the Jews!” 19 And they were striking his head with a reed and spitting on him and kneeling down in homage to him. 20 And when they had mocked him, they stripped him of the purple cloak and put his own clothes on him. And they led him out to crucify him.

There is terrible irony in every detail we see here—it is a terrible subversion of the identity of Christ.

The Romans have already scourged Jesus—a brutal Roman torture that was enough to kill many prisoners who endured it. The flesh of his back and legs and chest would have been mostly removed at this point under the lashing of the bone-and-metal-incrusted whips. And now, on that torn flesh, they place a purple cloak. Purple is the color of royalty, and now the purple cloak would quickly have soaked through with Jesus’s blood.

Of course, the crown he receives is not a crown of gold, but a crown of thorns—in addition to being incredibly painful, it’s a cruel mockery of the glory of a true crown.

And finally, the soldiers mock him, bowing before him and saluting him as the King of the Jews, even as they are striking his head with reeds and spitting on him.

They are mocking the identity he is being accused of—that of “King of the Jews”. But in their mockery, they are unintentionally identifying Christ correctly. He is the King.

For the King who has all majesty, who possesses all glory, who deserves all worship, they give false majesty; false glory; false worship.

Sin always ridicules the rule of God before bowing to it.

The Glory of the King

It’s easy to see what happens here as an unspeakable tragedy—and it certainly is that. But it is so much more. Every humiliation Jesus endures is part of his coronation. The agony of Christ is the means by which he takes the throne as the one true King.

And every other person we see in this story is a reflection of us, at different moments and in different situations in our lives.

We see ourselves in the soldiers, because while we can’t condone their mockery, we at least understand it—nothing about Jesus in this moment seems glorious. And since Christ sometimes seems laughable, we want to laugh; we want to hide behind silence when those around us poke clever holes in our faith; and we find ourselves doubting.

We see ourselves in the crowds and in the religious leaders, because their rebellion is our own—we naturally want to be the rulers of our own lives, and anyone who would threaten our independence is an enemy. So when Jesus comes in, claiming to be the Son of God and the Lord of all the world, and giving us commandments, we want to reject that, because we’re afraid of everything we stand to lose if we follow him.

We see ourselves in Pilate, because on our own, we too want to do what is easy, not what is right. We want to things to go as smoothly as possible, with the least amount of trouble possible. Doing what we know God calls us to do may hold the promise of greater joy later, but that’s later, and for now, doing what he calls us to do is difficult and risky, and we don’t want to take the risk.

And we see ourselves in Barabbas, because we are all guilty before God, and we have the opportunity to go free because the innocent King took our place. But being set free requires us to admit that we are guilty, and many of us just can’t quite bring ourselves to do that—to fall on our knees before the righteous Judge of the universe and to plead with him, “Have mercy on me, for I have sinned.”

That is who we are.

Which makes who Jesus is all the more shocking by contrast. Our King is the one who takes his throne through suffering, who suffered and died in our place so that we might live.

So given that contrast—between who we are and who Jesus is—the question Mark forces us to ask is simple and devastating: What kind of King is Jesus?

His kingship is unlike any other: he conquers not by killing, but by being killed, not by dominating over his subjects, but by taking what we deserve. His crown is a crown of thorns; his throne is a cross; his victory is not over nations or peoples, but over sin and death. Jesus does not fit the world’s image of power, but rather shows us what true royalty, true power, true authority, looks like: self-giving love, justice through sacrifice, and redemption through shame.

And the simple truth is that this is the only kind of authority worth following; it’s what separates a leader from a dictator. It’s not difficult to serve a King like this, because we know the lengths to which he’ll go to protect us. Whatever he requires of us is only a shadow of what he endured for us. It’s not hard to serve someone who puts you first.

The glory of our King is seen in God’s plan to give him the throne. Remember a few weeks ago, when I said that God could have found another way to save us, but didn’t, because this is the best way? It’s the best way because there is no other plan that could have shown us this clearly what kind of King Jesus is.

So faced with this King, we all have a choice. We can reject him like the crowds, mock him like the soldiers (which is really the same thing—a rejection of the true King is a mockery of the true King). Or we can submit to him as Lord.

The question is, before this sort of King, why would we ever want to do anything else?

If you already serve Christ today, I pray that we would consider again the King we serve—the King who gave himself for us, who put us first. He didn’t need to put himself first, because we do that, and gladly. Consider your King, consider his thorns, remember that his condemnation should have been ours, and bow before him once again to worship him as King.

And if you don’t know Christ, I would beg you to do the same thing: consider what we see here. Jesus’s trial, condemnation and crucifixion is one of the most well-attested events in human history, even outside the Bible. These things happened, and anyone can believe they did. But only God himself can make you consider the fact that Jesus did all this for us. For you. He is inviting you, as he invites all of us, to consider your King, and to realize that there is no good reason not to serve a King like him.

The Shame of Humanity & the Victory of Christ (Mark 14.26-52)

One of the most challenging struggles in all of life is the management of shame.

All of us feel shame to a greater or lesser degree. Sometimes that shame is totally unjustified. We feel shame for things that are neither our responsibility nor our fault. Think of someone who is abused or deeply hurt by someone else. Often that person doesn’t want to talk about it, tries to hide it, because they feel ashamed of what happened, even if they did nothing wrong.

But often, things can get cloudy; it can be hard to distinguish between illegitimate shame and shame that is appropriate. People who have been wounded may use their wounds to excuse sinful behavior in themselves; people who hurt others may blame the people they hurt for the sins they themselves have committed. And still others prefer to ignore the question altogether and push it away, because it’s just too painful to consider.

Sooner or later, though, we all have to recognize the fact that all of us have reasons for shame. All of us have done things we’re ashamed of, and we carry that shame with us like a ball and chain.

This is the point where I would usually say, “I’m not saying all this to bum you out,” but that’s not the truth. I am trying to bum you out, but I have a reason. Approaching this text, we all need to remember the shame we’ve felt in the past, or the shame we still feel today. Because shame is what we see here, and remembering what it feels like to carry it is essential to understanding this text.

If you remember, last week we saw the last supper that Jesus had with his disciples; we saw the conspiracy to arrest him and betray him; we saw the woman’s beautiful gesture of anointing him for burial; and we saw the weight and meaning behind the bread and the cup Jesus shares with his disciples.

Today’s text picks up immediately after that last event.

And the first thing out of Jesus’s mouth is a prophecy—or rather, three prophecies, all of them prophecies of failure.

Prophecies of Failure (vv. 26–31)

V. 26:

26 And when they had sung a hymn, they went out to the Mount of Olives. 27 And Jesus said to them, “You will all fall away, for it is written, ‘I will strike the shepherd, and the sheep will be scattered.’ 28 But after I am raised up, I will go before you to Galilee.”

The first “prophecy of failure” we see here is the hymn that Jesus and his disciples sing together. Traditionally, the Passover hymn is what’s called the “Hallel”, which was Psalms 113-118, because these psalms recount the story of God’s deliverance of his people from slavery in Egypt. And it is in Psalm 118.22 that we find the famous Messianic verse: The stone that the builders rejected has become the cornerstone.

It’s almost certain this is what they sang—which means that at the end of the hymn, Jesus was literally singing about his own rejection that would come in a very short time.

Afterwards, he takes his disciples out to the Mount of Olives, and there Jesus shocks them again. He’s already said that one of them would betray him;,and, presumably, Judas has now left to do just that. But now he says (v. 27): “You will all fall away.” Why? Because God said it would happen. Jesus quotes the prophecy we find in Zechariah 13.7, in which God declares, “Strike the shepherd, and the sheep will be scattered.”

On the surface we could see this as Jesus simply telling them what’s about to happen: he’s going to be betrayed, he’s going to be arrested, and the disciples will all flee in fear.

But that’s not all he’s doing. By quoting the prophet Zechariah, Jesus is identifying himself as the Shepherd whom God had appointed, the Shepherd who would be struck. Which also means that the suffering that he was about to endure isn’t an act of evil that he was powerless to stop; his suffering is a part of God’s deliberate plan.

Even the violence he’s about to endure isn’t chaos; it’s covenant fulfillment.

Then he adds (v. 28): “But after I am raised up, I will go before you to Galilee.” This makes sense too, because Zechariah’s prophecy doesn’t end in destruction, but renewal — God refines and restores His people. Jesus’ resurrection will be that restoration. The scattered flock will be regathered.

But faced with this prophecy of their own failure, the disciples are evidently unable to remember the hope given by the prophet Zechariah. Their collective is response is, “No.”

V. 29:

29 Peter said to him, “Even though they all fall away, I will not.” 30 And Jesus said to him, “Truly, I tell you, this very night, before the rooster crows twice, you will deny me three times.” 31 But he said emphatically, “If I must die with you, I will not deny you.” And they all said the same.

The disciples respond just like Israel at Sinai, when God established the covenant with them. When he told them how to enter into covenant with him, they affirmed, “All that the Lord has spoken, we will do!”

In the same way, Peter tells Jesus that he’s wrong. Even if everyone else leaves you, I won’t. And they all say the same. They swear loyalty — and they all fall within hours. The Shepherd knows the sheep better than they know themselves.

The Suffering of Surrender (vv. 32–42)

In v. 32, Jesus takes the disciples to a place called Gethsemane. Gethsemane was a garden of olive trees on the Mount of Olives, and the word “Gethsemane” literally means “olive press” in Aramaic. It’s appropriate; as we’ll see, Jesus is here to be pressed, and to persevere through it. This is, really, the place where Jesus’s victory is decided, because it is here that he willingly submits to God’s will for him in the coming hours. (It shouldn’t be lost on us that this scene is a sort of inverse of another scene at the beginning of the Bible, in Genesis 3. As Adam fell in a garden, Jesus claims victory in a garden—it’s the beginning of the reversal of Eden.)

V. 32:

32 And they went to a place called Gethsemane. And he said to his disciples, “Sit here while I pray.” 33 And he took with him Peter and James and John, and began to be greatly distressed and troubled. 34 And he said to them, “My soul is very sorrowful, even to death. Remain here and watch.” 35 And going a little farther, he fell on the ground and prayed that, if it were possible, the hour might pass from him. 36 And he said, “Abba, Father, all things are possible for you. Remove this cup from me. Yet not what I will, but what you will.”

Jesus’s prayer is heartbreaking, for multiple reasons. The first is simple, and very human: he calls God “Abba”; literally, Papa. It’s what a child would have called his father at this place and time. I never thought much of this until I myself became a father.

The second reason is even more profound. Jesus says, “Abba, Father, all things are possible for you.”

Think of what this means, in context. Jesus is about to die for the sins of his people. He’s about to suffer horrendously—physically, emotionally and spiritually. And he says, “Father, all things are possible for you.”

We need to understand that our sin did not force God into a box. The sin of humanity didn’t require God to come up with a sort of emergency rescue plan—the only way he could deal with sin and save his people. He’s God. He can do anything; all things are possible for him. He could have found another way to save his people.

And Jesus knows it. This plan wasn’t obligatory; it was chosen, not because it was the only possible plan, but because it was the best plan. So when Jesus prayed, “Remove this cup from me,” God could have said, “Okay.” And he could have found another way.

But although Jesus knew this wasn’t the only possible plan, he also knew it was the best. And in this moment of the most extreme vulnerability imaginable, he trusted his Father to do what was best. So he prayed, “Not what I will, but what you will.”

In that one simple phrase, Jesus accepts the “cup” that God is holding out for him.

His language is significant; the “cup” is not an image Jesus plucked out of thin air. He knows what God is doing; and so he speaks of it in the same way God did through the prophets. “The cup” was a common image in the prophets—and the cup was always filled, not with wine or water, but with God’s wrath. The cup is God’s judgment against humanity’s sin.

That cup, ordinarily, is held out to us. As God told the prophet Jeremiah (Jer. 25.15):

Take from my hand this cup of the wine of wrath, and make all the nations to whom I send you drink it.

This is our cup—the cup of judgment against our sin. But before it comes to our lips, Jesus takes it, brings it to his own mouth, and willingly drinks it for us.

It’s difficult for us to imagine the weight of Jesus’s suffering in this moment—not only because of what was coming at him, but because even in this moment of preparation, he was alone. V. 37:

37 And he came and found them sleeping, and he said to Peter, “Simon, are you asleep? Could you not watch one hour? 38 Watch and pray that you may not enter into temptation. The spirit indeed is willing, but the flesh is weak.” 39 And again he went away and prayed, saying the same words. 40 And again he came and found them sleeping, for their eyes were very heavy, and they did not know what to answer him. 41 And he came the third time and said to them, “Are you still sleeping and taking your rest? It is enough; the hour has come. The Son of Man is betrayed into the hands of sinners.

We need to be clear about something. Jesus’s isn’t surprised that the disciples are sleeping. He’s not asking them, “Why are you sleeping?” because he doesn’t understand. It’s very late, they’re very tired, and as Luke tells us, they were sleeping “for sorrow” (Luke 22.45)—the weight and sorrow of this evening were so heavy that they couldn’t take it anymore. Jesus knows this.

But he wants his disciples to remember, as we saw at the end of chapter 13, to “stay awake.” Later on, there will be other moments when they will be sorrowful, when they will be so full of woe that all they’ll want to do is lie down and close their eyes. And in those moments, I believe Jesus wanted his disciples to remember his voice on this night, saying, “Why are you sleeping? Watch and pray that you may not enter into temptation.”

And it is with this example—this example of exhausted but determined perseverance—that Jesus says in v. 42, “Rise, let us be going; see, my betrayer is at hand.”

Isn’t it incredible that in spite of the knowledge of everything that was waiting for him, Jesus moves toward his captors, not away from them.

His surrender to God’s will, like all true surrender, isn’t the absence of fear; it’s determined obedience that trusts God when everything in us wants to run and hide and escape.

And it is with this determination that Jesus faces his captors.

The Fulfillment of Scripture (vv. 43–50)

V. 43:

43 And immediately, while he was still speaking, Judas came, one of the twelve, and with him a crowd with swords and clubs, from the chief priests and the scribes and the elders. 44 Now the betrayer had given them a sign, saying, “The one I will kiss is the man. Seize him and lead him away under guard.” 45 And when he came, he went up to him at once and said, “Rabbi!” And he kissed him.

Why does Judas kiss Jesus?

The first reason is purely practical: it’s the middle of the night, and it’s very dark, so these guards who don’t know Jesus well wouldn’t know how to pick him out from among the others without a sign. It’s spy stuff, the kind of signal a spy would give the enemy to indicate what they needed to do next. (Which is why Judas chooses a sign of affection, like a kiss: it’s what a disciple would do.)

But of course the irony is huge. The act of affection is perverted into a signal of betrayal. You can almost hear Psalm 41.9 in the back of Mark’s mind: “Even my close friend in whom I trusted, who ate my bread, has lifted his heel against me.” Remember what Jesus said at the last supper? The one who will betray me “is one of the twelve, one who is dipping bread into the dish with me.”

And, we read in v. 46:

they laid hands on him and seized him. 47 But one of those who stood by drew his sword and struck the servant of the high priest and cut off his ear.

Mark doesn’t include Jesus’s response to this, when he tells the disciple with the sword—Peter—to put his sword away; but he does include Jesus’s question to his captors, which reveal the cowardice of this whole conspiracy. V. 48:

48 And Jesus said to them, “Have you come out as against a robber, with swords and clubs to capture me? 49 Day after day I was with you in the temple teaching, and you did not seize me. But let the Scriptures be fulfilled.”

They’ve had so many opportunities to do this—but they come at night, hidden from watchful eyes.

But, Jesus says, let the Scriptures be fulfilled. He’s not talking about any one specific passage—he’s referring to the entire prophetic pattern of God’s plan. Isaiah 53, Psalm 22, Zechariah 12-13, even Genesis 3: all of them converge here. When Jesus says, “Let the Scriptures be fulfilled,” he saying all of this is exactly how it was meant to happen.

The disciples come to their breaking point here. They couldn’t accept it before, but everything Jesus has been telling them for so long is actually about to take place, and he’s not going to stop it (although he clearly could—he who can calm storms and raise the dead).

What could they possibly do in the face of such horror?

So we see in v. 50:

And they all left him and fled.

The prophecy that Jesus quoted earlier from Zechariah comes true in real time. The sheep are scattered, and the Shepherd stands alone.

The Shame of Humanity (vv. 51–52)

Finally, Mark includes a sort of epilogue to this scene in the garden—an epilogue that is incredibly profound.

51 And a young man followed him, with nothing but a linen cloth about his body. And they seized him, 52 but he left the linen cloth and ran away naked.

Mark is the only gospel writer who includes this detail, which has led some commentators to think that Mark himself was the young man. We can’t know, and it doesn’t really matter. What matters is the image.

A young man following Jesus, seized by the guards, who has his linen cloth ripped from his body, and runs away naked.

Naked in a garden: it’s not the first time we’ve seen this. After the first man and woman sinned against God, their eyes were opened, and they realized that they were naked, and they were ashamed.

A very frequent nightmare for teenagers (and sometimes for adults too) is to find themselves naked in school, surrounded by classmates who are clothed. The feeling of these nightmares is almost always a feeling of shame, and the fear linked to that shame—the fear of being seen in our nakedness, in our shame.

The last image before Jesus’s trial is a nightmare image of all humanity before God: naked and ashamed after our catastrophic failure.

This young man is all of us—this is how sinful humanity stands in front of a holy God: totally naked, totally shameful.

And this is the image that Christ would soon become. On the cross, it wasn’t like in the paintings we’ve seen. Jesus wasn’t wearing a loincloth. He was naked too; the only thing he wore were his wounds, and the crown of thorns. This young man was able to run away and hide, to eventually find a way to cover himself.

Jesus couldn’t do that. He was naked—and nailed to a cross, lifted high for all to see.

And even this is only a picture. He didn’t just take our shame on himself in a physical way; he took the shame of our sin on himself and stood before God to be judged for it.

This experience of being totally exposed in our sin before a holy God who holds out the cup of his wrath for us to drink… This is the experience Christ took on himself, so that we wouldn’t have to.

When we are ashamed, what do we do? We run and hide. We try to cover it; or worse, we try to deny it.

But Jesus walked toward the shame, and its just consequences.

The Shame of Humanity and the Sovereignty of God

This text forces us to face what no one wants to face.
Jesus begins by predicting the shame of his disciples. Then their shame becomes reality: they can’t stay awake, one of them reacts badly to Jesus’ arrest, they all run away—and one of them literally flees naked, exposed.
In the middle of all that is Jesus: afraid, yes; anguished, yes—but determined and resolute.

Remember at the beginning when I told you to recall moments in your life that filled you with deep shame? I didn’t say that to be cruel. I said it because feeling that shame is the only way to truly grasp the magnitude of what’s happening here (and after).
We feel our shame… but Jesus took our shame.

One of the most constant struggles in our Christian life will be remembering that. It’s easy when things are going well—when we feel we’re managing our responsibilities and faithfully obeying God. But it’s much harder when we’re struggling, when obedience to God requires effort. In those moments, we feel shame—often not only for our failures, but for the struggle itself.

Struggling to obey is nothing to be ashamed of. We are beings who live in bodies still marked by sin—how could we not struggle? Think of someone at the gym, sweating and pushing himself to the limit to get back in shape. Should he be ashamed of his sweat or sore muscles the next day? Of course not: he’s working, and that’s good. It’s a struggle, but a good struggle.

And there is no better struggle than the struggle to obey God. It sometimes frustrates us because we want to obey—and we wish it were easy. But there’s nothing shameful about the fact that it’s hard, about the fact that we have to fight; on the contrary, the very act of struggling is a sign of maturity and growth.

There’s also no shame in struggles that come from things beyond our control. There’s no shame in being traumatized after abuse. There’s no shame in having trouble standing if we’re sick or disabled (physically or mentally). Some challenges truly aren’t our fault, but we still have to face them—and it’s hard. But it’s not shameful.

Yet there are many things we do, think, or feel that bring about a perfectly legitimate shame. It’s normal to feel shame after hurting someone. It’s normal to feel shame after deliberately disobeying God. And we’ve all done that.

Every person in this room has legitimate reasons to feel shame, whatever our circumstances. We’ve all rebelled against God; we’ve all consciously chosen not to follow Him; we’ve all consciously chosen not to obey.

At first, the shame that follows failure seems easy to brush off. It feels natural, and somewhat manageable. We carry it, telling ourselves we’ll do better next time. But if we keep on sinning, as sin piles up, so does shame: we begin to see it not as natural, but as inevitable. And sooner or later, we find ourselves with a mountain of shame on our shoulders, saying, I’ll never get out of this. Every act of obedience feels pointless—like a drop falling into the sea.

Another common problem is that the idea of facing the shame of our sin feels so crushing that we simply refuse to face it. When someone confronts us about sin in our lives, instead of really listening and considering that our brother might be right, we instinctively deny it and say he’s exaggerating—because facing the shame of our failure feels too painful. And over time, we start to believe that our sin really isn’t such a big deal. That tendency produces Christians who think they’re godly, who believe they’re living for God… while in reality they’re feeding patterns of sin in their lives that they’ll never deal with—patterns that may eventually shipwreck their faith.

Brothers and sisters, our shame is real; it’s greater than we can imagine, and we must face it. We must accept the truth: we are far more sinful than we think. As I said, it’s sometimes hard to tell it all apart. It takes a lot of work to separate legitimate shame from illegitimate shame.

That work is important—but for the Christian, it’s not the first thing we must consider. The first thing we must consider is this glorious truth: Jesus took our shame.

All of it. Our past shame, yes—but also our shame of tomorrow. We never go back to square one with Him—our shame doesn’t pile up before Him; He has taken it.

If you are in Christ, then whatever shame you’re carrying today, Jesus has taken it.

So the first call of this text is simple:

Realize that your shame no longer belongs to you.

See your sin clearly… feel deeply the shame of your sin… and then, let it go.
Remember that your shame no longer belongs to you. Scripture has been fulfilled, our King has put our sin to death, and we are free.
Your Savior loves you, and His shoulders are broader than yours; He can bear what you cannot.

So see your sin clearly; feel deeply the shame of your sin; then let it go. It doesn’t belong to you anymore; the Savior who loves you has taken it.

And the second call of this text is tied to the first, because it’s tied to how we can do that:

Trust in God’s plan and His sovereignty.

Jesus stood firm when we fled; He obeyed when we rebelled; He clothed Himself with our sin and drank the cup of God’s wrath against our sin.

How could He do that? How could Christ have the courage to accept the cup of God’s wrath? Mark makes it clear—He was sorrowful to the point of death; He was seized with fear and anguish. We can’t just say, “Jesus could endure it because He’s God”—it’s not that simple. Jesus’ divinity and humanity are inseparable; He’s never less than divine, but He’s never less than human either. And in this passage, we see a human being visibly terrified by the suffering awaiting Him—a suffering that goes infinitely beyond physical or emotional pain.

So how did Jesus find such courage?

He found that courage because, as great as His fear was, His trust in God was greater still.

We see that repeatedly here. Everything that happens to Jesus, and everything that happens to the disciples, had been foretold. “Strike the shepherd, and the sheep will be scattered.” “This happens so that the Scriptures may be fulfilled.” That’s the lens through which Jesus sees everything: not as an unavoidable tragedy, but as the fulfillment of the plan.

The Shepherd is struck so that the flock may be saved.
The Scriptures are fulfilled so that salvation may be applied.
The Son is left alone so that we never will be.

God’s plan is perfect—and Jesus knew it. We need to know it too. If we trust in His sovereignty, we can learn to stand firm, to persevere despite fear, despite shame—to hold fast to the end.

I don’t know what each person here is going through—but I do know that at some point, perhaps even this morning, what we see in this passage will be the truth we must cling to.

Our shame is real, but it no longer belongs to us. No matter whether you think your shame is legitimate or not—it doesn’t belong to you. It’s already been carried. Christ became our shame so that we might become His saints.

Our shame is real, but it no longer belongs to us.
And God’s plan is sometimes hard—but never less than perfect.

Since Jesus bore what we could not, we can bear what He gives us to carry, with His help. We can keep going. We can move forward. We can grow.
Marvel at your Savior, trust Him, rest in Him, and keep going.

The Passover, the Preparation, and the New Covenant (Mark 14.1-25)

Let’s admit it: looking at us from the outside, Christians are weird. No weirder than a lot of other religions, but still…weird. We do a lot of things that will look distinctly weird for someone who has no experience with Christianity.

But one of the strangest things we do as Christians is what we call “Communion”: when we take the bread and the cup, and eat and drink in remembrance of the body of Christ broken for us, and the blood of Christ shed for us.

We aren’t Catholics; we don’t believe that the bread literally becomes the body of Christ, or that the juice literally becomes the blood of Christ.

Even so: it’s a pretty weird thing to do week after week. It may even seem morbid and distasteful.

So why do we do it?

This text gives us the answer to that question, but it goes much further than simply explaining what the act of Communion means. It shows us where our hearts should be when we take it, and where our hearts should go because of having taken it together.

But before we get into it, let’s remember where we are.

Jesus has just spent all of chapter 13 telling his disciples about the end—where they are going, what will happen before his return. (I want to formally thank Joe for preaching these last two weeks; it’s a tough text, and he did a great job getting to the heart of it all.) We saw Jesus’s goal in this teaching at the very end of chapter 13, when he says, simply: “Stay awake.”

His disciples may have assumed that he was giving them a command for further down the road—but as we’ll see, it was a command for right now. Stay awake.

We’re going to have to take this text in several sections, because as usual, even in a simple narrative text, Mark has a lot in mind.

I. The Conspiracy (vv. 1–2, 10–11)

If you’ve grown up in church, you’ve probably had this experience—you go through the year like you always do, but at one or two points in the year, the atmosphere of spiritual devotion becomes a little thicker. It usually happens at Christmas, or at Easter. These are the two biggest Christian holidays, where we remember Christ’s birth and Christ’s death and resurrection. Churches always do something special for these days, as we will, and in the time leading up to them, you’ll find people reading their Bibles with a little more intensity, wanting to make a more concerted effort to think about God and meditate on what he’s done for us.

That’s what the feast of the Passover was like for the Jews.

We can’t get into all the details now, but this feast (which marked the beginning of the Feast of Unleavened Bread) was very elaborate. On the day of the Passover each family or group sacrificed a lamb in the temple and then roasted and ate it in the evening. The lamb was a reminder of Exodus 12: God is about to send judgment on Egypt, who had been holding the people of Israel in slavery. That night, he told them, an angel would pass through Egypt and kill all of the firstborn sons of every family.

But he gave Israel a way to protect themselves from this judgment. Each family was to sacrifice a lamb and put its blood on the doorposts of their homes, so that the angel would “pass over” their homes and not put their firstborn son to death.

Of course, God didn’t strictly need the sign; it’s not like the angel would have accidentally gone into the wrong houses. But through this sacrifice God commanded the Hebrews to perform, he was preparing for something much bigger, much further down the road.

At any rate, that event is what the people celebrated at Passover, and much like for us around Christmas and Easter, religious devotion intensified at this time of year. Which makes what we see in these first sections all the more surprising.

Let’s begin reading again at v. 1:

It was now two days before the Passover and the Feast of Unleavened Bread. And the chief priests and the scribes were seeking how to arrest him by stealth and kill him, 2 for they said, “Not during the feast, lest there be an uproar from the people.”

It’s no surprise that the chief priests and scribes are out to get Jesus; they have been for a long time now. What is surprising is the transparency of their hypocrisy—they want to arrest him and kill Jesus, but not during the feast. Not because the feast is sacred, but because they knew the people wouldn’t like it during the feast. They want to avoid a riot, but not murder.

Now keeping that in mind, go down to v. 10—we see something similar here.

10 Then Judas Iscariot, who was one of the twelve, went to the chief priests in order to betray him to them. 11 And when they heard it, they were glad and promised to give him money. And he sought an opportunity to betray him.

Here we see a similar kind of hypocrisy, but this time coming from a painful source: Judas Iscariot, “one of the twelve”, seeks to betray Jesus in exchange for money. It’s evil, wearing the mask of intimacy. Mark doesn’t give us a lot of information about what motivated Judas to betray Jesus (we see a little more in the other gospels, especially in the gospel of John, but we never get a comprehensive view of his heart, as we do for, say, Peter).

Ultimately, it doesn’t really matter, because what Mark wants to show us is that evil is coming at Jesus from all quarters: from without and from within.

Now, we’ve often talked about how much Mark loves to structure his narrative like a sandwich, to highlight or contrast his point. We have the plotting of the religious leaders in v. 1-2, and then Judas joining their conspiracy in v. 10-11.

What comes in between—in the middle of the sandwich?

II. The Burial Preparation (vv. 3–9)

Remember the context of this chapter, the last thing Jesus said in chapter 13: Stay awake. One of the goals of the Passover—of all the feasts—was to help the people do this. To not forget what God has done. To remember that he is still active. To stay awake.

The religious leaders and Judas, plotting against Jesus, are beyond “asleep”—they’re as dead. But in between them, we see one person who is indeed awake.

V. 3:

3 And while he was at Bethany in the house of Simon the leper, as he was reclining at table, a woman came with an alabaster flask of ointment of pure nard, very costly, and she broke the flask and poured it over his head. 4 There were some who said to themselves indignantly, “Why was the ointment wasted like that? 5 For this ointment could have been sold for more than three hundred denarii and given to the poor.” And they scolded her.

Side note: We usually try not to refer to the other gospels when we’re in one, because each gospel writer has his own reasons for writing as he does. But for simplicity’s sake, I’m going to this time. The gospel of John, in chapter 12, identifies this woman as Mary, the sister of Martha and Lazarus, so I’m going to refer to her by name (instead of calling her “the woman who anointed Jesus”).

It’s two days before the Passover, so anticipation is high: every meal is full of meaning, and every mind and heart is (or should be) on God. So Jesus and his disciples are at Bethany, eating in the home of a friend, and Mary comes in and shocks everyone.

She breaks this alabaster flask of ointment and pours it over Jesus’s head.

This was shocking for a number of reasons. First of all, this wasn’t a normal thing to do with a guest. A servant would wash guests’ feet when they came to visit, but they wouldn’t pour ointment over their heads. This sort of thing was more likely to be seen in the tabernacle or the temple, when one could give herbs or perfumes as an offering before God.

And Mary wasn’t a servant anyway—she had been a close friend of Jesus for years.

Secondly, Mark tells us that this ointment was “very costly.” He’s understating it a bit—a flask of pure nard was worth almost a year’s wages for a laborer. It likely represented Mary’s entire life savings.

Not surprisingly, then, some of the disciples chastise her for it. “If you wanted to use the ointment well, you could have sold it and given the money to the poor.” I’ll admit this is the sort of thing I would have said; at first glance, it seems like poor stewardship of material wealth.

But what Jesus says is staggering. V. 6:

6 But Jesus said, “Leave her alone. Why do you trouble her? She has done a beautiful thing to me. 7 For you always have the poor with you, and whenever you want, you can do good for them. But you will not always have me. 8 She has done what she could; she has anointed my body beforehand for burial. 9 And truly, I say to you, wherever the gospel is proclaimed in the whole world, what she has done will be told in memory of her.”

The most surprising thing about Jesus’s response, I think, is not that Jesus appreciated the gesture. It’s that it meant something more than a gesture of devotion (like the woman who anoints Jesus’s feet in Luke 7—despite similarities, this is not the same event). He says in v. 8, “She has done what she could; she has anointed my body beforehand for burial.” We may ask whether or not Mary understood exactly what she was doing (I personally think she did, because she knew Jesus well and had almost definitely heard him say he was going to Jerusalem to die), but in the end, it doesn’t matter—she and everyone else would understand later.

Burial anointing was a Jewish custom—when someone died, they’d wash the body, wrap it in linen, and then rub it with aromatic oils and spices. This wasn’t mainly to ward off decomposition, but rather to honor the person who has died (like an extravagant display of flowers at a funeral today, but much more meaningful).

When Jesus died—as we see later on, in chapter 15—the nature of his death was such that they didn’t have time to do all this. When Joseph of Arimathea took Jesus’s body, he simply wrapped him in the linen and laid him in the tomb. It wasn’t until after the Sabbath, on Sunday morning, that the women came back to the tomb with the spices, so that they could anoint Jesus’s body.

But what did they find when they got there?

They found an empty tomb.

As it turned out, the women didn’t have to anoint his body, not just because the body was no longer in the tomb, but because the anointing had already taken place.

In addition, nard oil—the kind that Mary poured on Jesus’s head—is a fixative oil: it clings to skin and hair for a very long time. A few drops could be smelled on skin or on clothes for several days. An entire jar poured over someone’s head—mingling into his hair, his beard, his clothes, and the skin of his neck and shoulders—could have lasted as long as a week, even after washing. A quick shake of the head would have brought the smell back.

This anointing happened two days before Jesus’s arrest. This means that while Jesus was being arrested, while he was being beaten and scourged, when the crown of thorns was placed on his head, when he was being nailed to the cross, mingled in with the odor of sweat and blood, it is quite likely that he smelled the perfume, and remembered his anointing.

It would have been a simple comfort in such a painful time, but not a meaningless one.

Mary’s anointing very likely stayed with Jesus until the end. But the most important thing to see here is that Mary understood something the others seemed to have missed. Mary understood what Jesus was worth to her. He was going to die, and although she surely didn’t understand the full meaning behind his death, she definitely recognized what his death was worth. It was worth everything she had, everything she was, poured out as an offering to him.

III. The New Covenant (vv. 12–25)

So Mark gives us this contrast between Mary’s costly gesture and the plotting of the religious leaders and Judas, and it’s unsettling; Mark has made sure that we know that moving forward, things are going to get very dark.

That is the feeling with which we arrive at the day of the Passover. V. 12:

12 And on the first day of Unleavened Bread, when they sacrificed the Passover lamb, his disciples said to him, “Where will you have us go and prepare for you to eat the Passover?” 13 And he sent two of his disciples and said to them, “Go into the city, and a man carrying a jar of water will meet you. Follow him, 14 and wherever he enters, say to the master of the house, ‘The Teacher says, Where is my guest room, where I may eat the Passover with my disciples?’ 15 And he will show you a large upper room furnished and ready; there prepare for us.” 16 And the disciples set out and went to the city and found it just as he had told them, and they prepared the Passover.

This seems like a bit of unnecessary detail, but if you’ve been reading this gospel with us, you’ll understand why Mark’s telling us these things. It’s very similar to what we saw in chapter 11, before Jesus’s triumphal entry in Jerusalem. Jesus tells his disciples where to go and what to find and what to say, and everything happens exactly as he says.

The religious leaders are plotting to kill Jesus, Judas is looking for an opportunity to betray him… But none of that is happening outside of God’s sovereignty. Jesus’s impending death is not a bump in the road; it is the plan. It is why he has come. God’s purposes are not derailed by human evil—they are often advanced through it.

So the preparations are made; the lamb has been sacrificed and prepared, and finally it is time for the meal.

We’ve all had Christmas dinners, Easter dinners. After the stress and busyness of preparation, everyone can finally relax and sit down and enjoy the food, enjoy one another.

This was not that kind of meal.

V. 17:

17 And when it was evening, he came with the twelve. 18 And as they were reclining at table and eating, Jesus said, “Truly, I say to you, one of you will betray me, one who is eating with me.” 19 They began to be sorrowful and to say to him one after another, “Is it I?” 20 He said to them, “It is one of the twelve, one who is dipping bread into the dish with me. 21 For the Son of Man goes as it is written of him, but woe to that man by whom the Son of Man is betrayed! It would have been better for that man if he had not been born.”

It’s hard to overstate the shock this must have been for the disciples, to everyone except Judas, who of course knew what he was doing. But it did make me wonder why Jesus wasn’t more specific. Why didn’t he say, “This guy here, Judas, is going to betray me”? Why did he leave the disciples in suspense, wondering who it might be?

I think it’s because, like he said before, he wanted them to stay awake—to be on their guard. If “one of the twelve, one who is dipping bread into the dish with me,” could betray him, how could they be sure any of them would remain faithful?

It’s a good question—and Jesus gives the answer in what we see next. V. 22:

22 And as they were eating, he took bread, and after blessing it broke it and gave it to them, and said, “Take; this is my body.” 23 And he took a cup, and when he had given thanks he gave it to them, and they all drank of it. 24 And he said to them, “This is my blood of the covenant, which is poured out for many.

How could any of the disciples be sure they would remain faithful? They couldn’t—not on their own.

But they were not alone. Through what Jesus was about to do, God was establishing a new covenant with his people.

God had previously established a covenant with his people, saying that they would be his people, and he would be their God, on one condition: the people had to obey the law he gave to Moses. In Exodus 24, that covenant was ratified through sacrifice: Moses took the blood of the animals sacrificed and sprinkled it over the people. The blood of the sacrifice was the sign that the covenant was adopted.

The problem with covenants, though, is that they’re easy to neglect. Every married couple takes vows before their wedding; but over the years, especially when conflict arises, it’s all too easy to find excuses for not respecting the vows we made the day of our wedding. Instead of responding in love and support, we respond with anger and aggression. And we feel we can do this because we know the other person, frankly, isn’t going anywhere: they’re stuck with us.

That is what had happened with the people of Israel: they had begun to take their covenant with God for granted. They had started to think more about their own lives and their own worries than God’s plan—the plan he had stated to Abraham. They had stopped fully trusting God, and started relying on their own ability to make themselves what they wanted to be.

Of course, this wasn’t a surprise for God. He had announced his plan from the very beginning, as early as Genesis 3, and throughout the history of his people. His plan was never that the people would manage to hold up their end of the bargain; he knew they couldn’t do that. God’s plan was always to fulfill the covenant for them, and to establish a new, irrevocable covenant with them.

To put it simply, when Jesus says, “This is my body,” and “This is my blood”, he is telling the disciples that he is going to be the sacrifice that no Passover lamb could ever be. This new covenant, ratified by Christ’s blood on the cross, isn’t like the old covenant; it is not conditional on our perfect obedience. It doesn’t need to be, because Christ obeyed perfectly for us, in our place. It is done. It is finished. It is permanent.

This is the first time disciples of Christ took part in this act, and it is an act the church has repeated ever since, and for the same reasons.

Every time we take the bread and the cup, we’re not doing it in order to get something we don’t already have; we’re not doing it in order to make ourselves right with God. We’re doing to remember and to remind one another that we already are right with God, and that that isn’t going to change.

Now, does this mean that Communion is only symbolic, that is only a memorial of what Christ did? I don’t think so. From the beginning, the church has believed that when God’s people take Communion together, they aren’t just remembering, but participating in what Christ did. It’s a means of grace that God gives us, to help fuel our faithfulness to him.

But here is where a lot of people get it wrong. They look at their lives, they look at their struggles, and they don’t feel worthy to participate in this moment. They see that there are areas of their lives in which they’re struggling with sin. They see that there are relationships they’ve damaged, people they’ve hurt, or people they’ve been hurt by, and they haven’t yet taken steps to repair those relationships—to forgive, or to ask for forgiveness.

And so they don’t feel worthy to take the bread and the cup.

So what do they do when the bread and the cup are passed out? They don’t take it. They think, “Maybe next time; maybe once I’ve got my life more in order, I’ll participate.”

That instinct isn’t entirely wrong. If there are areas of our lives in which we are living in disobedience, then Communion is a forceful reminder of the need to do that: to repent of our sin, to forgive, to ask for forgiveness, to stay awake!

But it is crucial to remember that when Jesus established this ritual with his disciples, their lives were not in order. A few hours later, they would all leave him; Peter would deny him; Judas would betray him. Jesus didn’t wait for Acts 2, when it seemed the disciples finally started to get their act together, to give them the bread and the cup.

He gave it to them when they were still imperfect, still sinful, still not entirely faithful.

And it makes total sense, because the whole point of the new covenant is that it doesn’t depend on our obedience, but on his.

So if your instinct is to look at the bread and cup and feel unworthy to take it, you’re right. You are unworthy—and so am I. But that is no reason to abstain. That, in fact, is precisely why you shouldn’t abstain. Your sin is not big enough to annul Christ’s sacrifice for us. If you’ve been saved by faith, it’s because of his obedience, not yours. And his obedience is always perfect, no matter how sinful you feel. So take the reminder of this moment to repent of your sin, to go and ask forgiveness if you need to, to reconcile with your brother or sister if you need to—and then take, and eat, and drink.

Because you are not the center of this moment. None of us are. Christ is the sacrifice we are remembering; it is through the faith that Christ gave us that we are saved; Christ’s obedience is what we bring before God, not our own. He is the center.

Now, Jesus says one more thing after giving the bread and the cup to his disciples—and it’s something that should give us hope. V. 25:

25 Truly, I say to you, I will not drink again of the fruit of the vine until that day when I drink it new in the kingdom of God.

Wine is a staple of every feast; this is something we understand well in France. Wine at a feast is synonymous with celebration.

And thank the Lord, it is the same in the kingdom of God.

Jesus says that he will not again drink wine “until that day”—what day?—“when I drink it new in the kingdom of God.”

This Passover feast would be the last feast Jesus would celebrate in his earthly life…but there is another feast coming. When Christ returns, and all things are made new—everything we talked about these past two weeks—there will be celebration.

Conclusion

Let’s take a step back now.

This text frames the sacrament of Communion in a really particular way. There is a context behind it. The context of the Passover, of course—but also, the context of Jesus’s anointing in Bethany.

When Jesus gave them the bread and the cup, it was just after the meal at which they ate the Passover lamb—this memorial to the sacrifice given in Egypt, that saved the Hebrews from judgment. And while they were eating this meal—while they were taking the bread and the cup—it is quite likely that they could still smell Mary’s perfume on Jesus, surrounding him, mixing in with the smells of the meat and the bread and the wine.

While we were studying this text in home group this week, someone asked a great question: “What must the first Communion have been like for the disciples, after Christ’s resurrection?” Because this time, at this particular meal, it was a) the only time they took it with Jesus physically present; and b) the only time they probably didn’t really understand what they were doing.

But after the resurrection, it would have been different. At every Communion after this one, they wouldn’t have smelled the nard—because Christ had risen and ascended into heaven. And they wouldn’t have had a Passover lamb, because now they knew that Jesus was the Passover lamb, sacrificed to free his people from judgment, once and for all.

At every other Communion after the resurrection, and ever since, the bread and the wine alone are enough to bring all of these things to mind.

Given this incredible context, we should see that Communion isn’t just a memorial—it’s a call to conscience, and a call to action. Every time we take the bread and the cup, one question should be in the front of our minds: What is Jesus’s death worth to us?

There are many ways to answer that question, many ways to respond to Christ’s sacrifice.

Many respond like the religious leaders, like Judas: in the face of Christ, there is revulsion and rejection.

Many respond like the disciples in this chapter—with bewilderment and confusion and doubt (“Is it me? Am I going to betray him? How can I be sure I’ll stay faithful?”).

But the only right way to respond, the only fitting way, is like Mary. Faced with the imminent death of her Lord, she gave the most costly thing she had. It was a material gift, yes, but it was representative of everything she had, everything she was.

The most costly thing all of us have to give is ourselves. Our lives. Our affections and desires. Not just everything we have, but everything we are.

The idea of giving Christ everything we are can be intimidating—but it needn’t be, because we know we’re not alone. We’re not working under our own power. We have received the new covenant of Christ’s blood, which guarantees that if we have faith in him, we will make it.

So as we take Communion now, let us ask ourselves: What is Jesus’s death—what is the New Covenant he established with his people—worth to us? What should I give him that I am still holding back? And why would I want to hold back? What am I holding on to that could ever be better than what I have received in the New Covenant?

What is he worth to us?

Ready for the End? (Mark 13.32-37)

The 1998 film Deep Impact imagines how people would behave if a comet were about to destroy most of the Earth.

Some try to flee the destruction.

Others sacrifice themselves to save their loved ones.

Still others believe that death is inevitable and seek to make the most of the time they have left to mend their relationships with their families.

The film asks the question: if we believe the end of the world is coming, how should we live?

This question is not only asked in fiction.

Some will remember the Y2K bug.

The idea was that at the turn of the year 2000, all the computers in the world would crash and civilisation would collapse.

Some people therefore chose to prepare for the end by stockpiling supplies to survive, withdrawing all their money from banks and building bunkers.

In the end, the transition to the new millennium went rather well.

But the question remains: if we believe that the end of the world is coming, how should we live?

Let's add extra element to the question.

How should we live if we believe the end is coming but don't know when?

The date is unknown.

Would that mean living in a state of paralysis – doing nothing, locking ourselves away at home because it could happen today?

Would we live in a state of panic?

Or would we choose to live as if nothing was happening? Stop worrying. We don't know when it will happen, so let's enjoy life while we can.

How should we live if we believe the end is coming, but we don't know when?

Last Sunday, we listened to Jesus' teaching on the end of the world as we know it.

Jesus is in the temple in Jerusalem, his disciples are admiring the grandeur of the building, but Jesus gives them a rude awakening by announcing that it will be destroyed, judged by God.

When? the disciples ask.

Jesus responds by speaking of the final judgement of the temple, but also by explaining that the final judgement of the temple will anticipate and foreshadow the final judgement of the world.

The temple will be judged, and so will our world.

Hence the question: if we believe that the end of the world is coming, but we don't know when, how should we live?

If you are like me, this may be a question you don't want to think about.

Perhaps because we feel that preparing for the end must involve making some really strange choices!

There have been plenty of examples of super weird choices throughout history!

In the 1840s, an American pastor named William Miller announced that the return of Jesus was imminent. Thousands of people chose to leave their jobs, sell all their possessions, and wait on top of a hill, dressed in white, for Jesus to arrive.

He did not arrive on the predicted date, and this date was later nicknamed "the great disappointment".

There are plenty of other examples.

In some cases, the choices were comical. Sometimes they were truly tragic.

How should we live if we believe that the end of the world is coming, but we don't know when?

Knowing that Jesus is coming back, without knowing when, we will see this morning that this actually involves radical choices.

These are also choices that are part of a daily life that is in many ways very normal.

Three points...

1. Watch out! He’ll return without warning!

2. Don’t fall asleep

3. Keep living for the future

Mark 13:32-37

“But about that day or hour, no one knows, not even the angels in heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father. Be careful, stay awake and pray, for you do not know when that time will come. It will be like a man going on a journey: he leaves his house, gives authority to his servants, tells each one what to do, and orders the gatekeeper to stay awake. Therefore, stay awake, for you do not know when the master of the house will come: in the evening, or in the middle of the night, or at cockcrow, or in the morning. May he not find you asleep when he comes suddenly! What I say to you, I say to all: Stay awake.”

Watch out! He’ll return without warning!

The first thing to understand is that Jesus' return will be unexpected, sudden and cataclysmic. We must therefore be ready.

We all know what it's like to wait for guests we haven't seen in a long time, whom we are very happy to see again, but who are coming from far away and therefore there is uncertainty about their arrival time.

We tidy up the house, clean, prepare appetisers, cook our best dishes and then try to keep them warm.

We do everything we can to be ready because they could arrive at any moment.

This is a bit like how Jesus talks about his return.

He compares it to a man who goes on a journey, leaves his house to his servants, asks them to be ready for his return, but without telling them what time it will be.

It could be in the evening, or in the middle of the night, or at cockcrow, or in the morning.

These four times correspond to the four watches of the night in Jesus' time. The fact that he does not specify during which of these watches he will return means that we do not know how long we will have to wait.

The fact that all these times are at night shows us that it will take effort to be awake when he arrives.

Hence the watchword he repeats in verses 34, 35 and 37: stay awake! Stay alert!

In Greek, it is the same word each time: watch!

You do not know when he will come—watch! Stay awake!

It would be possible to misunderstand what it means to watch.

When I was little and we were waiting for friends to arrive from far away, I would stand at the window with my nose pressed against the glass, sometimes for an hour, watching for their arrival. There were no mobile phones for them to let us know what time they would arrive, we only had a rough idea, we didn't know if they were stuck in traffic, so I stayed at the window trying to spot them from afar.

One could imagine that watching and waiting for Jesus' return is a bit like that.

Scrutinising world events, analysing the news, everything that is happening in the Middle East, who is president of the United States, the colour of the moon and a whole host of other things in an attempt to decipher the signs and figure out how imminent the return of Jesus is.

But "watching" cannot mean that.

Last Sunday, we saw that God gave only one clear sign that Jesus' return is coming.

The destruction of the temple in Jerusalem.

This event took place in the year 70 at the hands of the Roman army.

From that point on, the next date on God's calendar is the return of Jesus, which we must expect at any moment.

It's a bit like the beeping of the underground doors.

When you're on the underground, when you hear the beep, you know the doors are about to close.

Sometimes it beeps for barely a second and then the doors close.

Sometimes it beeps a little longer than expected. You stand there, waiting, wondering how long it will last. Maybe it's because the driver is kind and saw someone running to catch the train.

The beep tells us that the doors are about to close. It just doesn't tell us exactly when.

The destruction of the temple is a bit like the beep. It tells us that Jesus is coming. It just doesn't tell us how long it will take.

Therefore, "watching" cannot mean trying to decipher the signs of his return. The only clear sign has been given.

Watching while waiting for Jesus means "staying awake", "remaining vigilant"... "being ready at all times".

This is essential because the moment of Jesus' return will be unexpected: you do not know when the master of the house will come.

On that day, some will be out shopping.

Others will be at work.

Still others will be doing their homework. I know some who would like Jesus to return just before homework time!

Some will be partying, others will be playing sports.

Then Jesus will arrive.

It will be unexpected.

It will also be sudden.

If the master could potentially find his servants asleep, it is because he did not call them five minutes beforehand to warn them that he was coming.

We will have no warning that we need to prepare. Now is the time to prepare!

It will be unexpected, sudden and also... cataclysmic.

It will be the end of the world as we know it.

The temple had been torn to pieces.

Jesus presents the destruction of the temple as the preview of his return... to judge the world.

Creation as we know it will be turned upside down when the King finally comes to clean up our world.

Those who have recognised Jesus as their king will be gathered together to live in a new creation, free from everything that spoils this one.

Those who have refused to recognise Jesus as their king will be swept away by his judgement.

It is a glorious prospect! It is also a serious prospect, depending on how we have responded to Jesus here and now.

Unexpected, sudden and cataclysmic.

So Jesus invites us to be ready, no matter how long the wait.

When we are expecting guests but do not know what time they will arrive, we do everything we can to get things ready and keep them ready!

The house is tidied. No, children, this is not the time to jump on the sofa. This is not the time to build a fort with sheets!

This is not the time to take a nap!

This is not the time to repaint the walls.

Maybe they'll arrive in five minutes, maybe in an hour, it doesn't matter! We have to be ready!

This is what Jesus teaches about his return.

Be ready and stay ready!

Live in a constant state of vigilance, in which the prospect of his return keeps us constantly alert.

We're going to talk about what that means.

But first, let us note that it is a kindness on God's part that He does not tell us when Jesus will return.

I was talking about this passage with my children this week and I asked them: what happens in your classroom when the teacher says he is leaving and will be back in 10 minutes?

Everyone shouts, everyone does whatever they want, everyone misbehaves... for 9 minutes.

OK, now what happens when the teacher says he is leaving but doesn't tell you when he will be back?

Well, that's different, you have to be careful, you can't get up to as much mischief.

(They did say they send someone to the door to see if the teacher is coming back, but you get the idea!)

Not knowing when Jesus is coming protects us from doing silly things and making bad choices.

Imagine if I knew that Jesus was coming back in a year - on 26 October 2026.

What would I be tempted to do while waiting? Silly things! Things that could be destructive for me and bad for the people around me.

I would delude myself into thinking that I would prepare for Jesus on 25 October.

It is possible that some of us are curious about Jesus but are postponing our decision to give our lives to him, telling ourselves: I still have time! I am young! I will make a decision later!

From experience, when we think like that, we usually end up not giving our lives to Jesus, we drift away.

But in any case, if we don't know when He will come, that should prevent us from playing with fire.

If you are one of those people who are curious but not yet believers, take the time you need to explore and decide, but don't put off the decision by telling yourself that you have all the time in the world.

You don't know anything!

It is God's kindness that we do not know the day or the hour.

***

So what does it mean to be ready?

That is our second point...

Don’t fall asleep

I said earlier that it is tempting to think that preparing for the end involves making extremely strange choices.

Quitting your job, selling everything you own and waiting on top of a hill.

Stocking up on tinned food and building a bunker.

It's much more down-to-earth than that.

It's about doing everything you can to live for Jesus forever... when he returns.

Nothing Hollywood-esque! Just doing everything you can to always be a Christian when he arrives.

Or if we are no longer alive, to have died having lived for Jesus until the end.

In Mark, we saw that the response Jesus asks of us is to follow him.

"If anyone wants to be my disciple, let him deny himself, take up his cross and follow me!"

Jesus wants to find us trying to do this when he returns.

It is demanding, we do it very imperfectly, we need a lot of grace.

That is what he wants to find.

Last week we saw several factors that can make it complicated.

Jesus says, "Take care that no one leads you astray."

He warns us not to be deceived by false teachings.

You don't need to have been a Christian for long to realise that a false teacher does not arrive with horns on his head!

They have a Bible in their hand and a big smile on their face.

So we must all keep our noses in the Bible and our minds alert so that we are not deceived.

That is why I ask you to have the text open before your eyes during a sermon. My words may contain errors. Not these.

(May I encourage you to come to church with a Bible... in paper form?)

Jesus also warns us not to be frightened by current events.

"When you hear of wars and threats of wars, do not be frightened, for these things must happen. However, this will not yet be the end."

If things happen in the world that disturb us, let us not be unsettled. God has not lost control.

In a broken world like ours, these things will inevitably happen.

But Jesus is still on his throne.

And he warns us not to be surprised by hostility.

Mark 13:13

“You will be hated by all because of my name, but whoever endures to the end will be saved.”

Following Jesus means going against the grain of a world that rejects Jesus' reign. It means exposing ourselves to hostility!
I don't know about you, but I don't like facing hostility!

It doesn't take much for me to wonder if I'm really sure I want to follow Jesus.

Jesus says: it will happen. Hostility can even come from those closest to us.

Persevere!

***

But you know what? I don't think false teachings, current events, or hostility are the main danger to us.

I think the main danger is the one Jesus mentions in verse 36, in the story of the man who goes on a journey.

Have you seen what it is?

Mark 13:36

"When he comes suddenly, may he not find you asleep!"

I used to be a journalist for a news channel where I sometimes had to work at night.

There was always that quiet hour between 2 and 3 a.m. when almost nothing ever happened.

It was very tempting to fall asleep!

But I couldn't because you never knew when important news might break.

If we were asleep at that moment, it would be problematic.

With infinitely more important issues at stake, Jesus warns us not to fall asleep spiritually.

What would it mean for us to fall asleep spiritually?

It is what happens when we allow distance to grow between us and Jesus. When other things take first place in our lives.

Take the student who has arrived in the big city of Paris, eager to enjoy his freedom now that he no longer lives with his parents.

As a teenager, he had lots of friends in the youth group.

But now that he is a student, Sunday mornings follow Saturday nights... it's not always easy to motivate himself to go to church.

Maybe one day I'll try to get up, he says to himself.

Or the young graduate who is just starting his career.

As a student, he was a regular at GBU.

But now that he's working, he has to show his bosses that he's ambitious. Arrive early and leave late.

It's okay, I'll find time for God later! One day, maybe.

Or the forty-something who dreams of a more comfortable life. What if I moved to the countryside and worked from home full time? What a dream!

I don't know if there's a church in the area to encourage me in my faith... but I'll follow along on the internet!

Or that person who thinks they've heard it all 15 times before.

I've known the stories in the Bible since I was a child! What else is there to learn?

The problem with sleep is that you don't see it coming.

You have to decide in advance that you're going to be proactive about staying awake.

In practical terms, in order not to fall asleep spiritually, we must seek to grow spiritually. Never be content to stagnate.

It's like riding a bicycle. If you don't move forward, you fall.

One of the greatest sorrows of a pastor is to see people falling asleep or drifting away.

We want to shake them – please, don't do that! But we can't.

And pastors sometimes need to be woken up too.

I have known too many people who, little by little, have allowed themselves to fall asleep, and today it is difficult to say whether they still follow Jesus.

I am committed to the doctrine known as the perseverance of the saints, which states that God keeps those He has chosen until the end.

But if we understand this to mean that it is enough to have said a prayer when we were 15 years old and then do nothing else to grow spiritually, we are seriously mistaken.

The mark of authentic faith is that it is a faith that perseveres!

It does everything it can to avoid falling asleep.

So how do we do this? How do we avoid falling asleep?

keep living for the future

It seems to me that this text gives us two keys to staying awake.

The first is to remember what we are waiting for!

When I was little, if there was one night of the year when I couldn't fall asleep, it was Christmas Eve!

In France, it's a little different because we often give presents on the evening of 24 December, but in our house we received them on the morning of the 25th.

It was impossible to fall asleep! We were so excited.

This is somewhat the perspective that Jesus invites us to have regarding his return.

If we consider what we are waiting for, if we remember who we are waiting for, we won't be able to sleep!

It will be so amazing, a thousand times better than Christmas!

We are waiting for the world to be turned upside down and judged, and that too keeps us awake.

Jesus will put an end to everything and everyone who opposes him.

But what the King brings with him for those who wait for him will be so amazing that we would be crazy to miss it!

If we think that the master in Mark 13 is a grumpy, stingy master, like the boss we find most difficult to work for, let us think again!

He loves us. He is a master who says that he did not come to be served but to serve us and to give his life as a ransom for us.

He loves us. All the miracles he performs in Mark are there to give us a glimpse of this. His kingdom will be so much better than anything we can experience in this world!

I think one reason Christians fall asleep is because they lose sight of their future.

But God gives us opportunities every day to remember what we are waiting for, so that we do not fall asleep.

The good things he gives us—a good time with friends, a good meal, a good holiday—offer a faint reflection of what we will experience when the Master returns.

We can enjoy these good things and think about what we are waiting for.

The difficult things... they are given to us to remind us that the master has not yet returned.

This is one of the reasons why God sometimes allows us to suffer. So that we do not settle down in this world and so that we wait even more eagerly for the master :-)

I have a friend who sets his alarm clock a quarter of an hour earlier in the morning to meditate on life in the kingdom of Jesus.

To be ready for the master, let us remember what we are waiting for

And finally, let us serve while we wait.

Mark 13:34

It will be like a man going on a journey: he leaves his house, gives authority to his servants, tells each one what to do.

A book that has helped me a lot this week as I meditated on this passage is this one: Jesus is the Great Surprise, which tells the story of the master who goes on a journey.

In this book, what keeps the servants from falling asleep is all the work they have to do!

Everything must be ready for his return!

They have too much to do to allow themselves to sleep.

What work has Jesus given us?

In a word, it is to help others be ready for his return.

That is our job as Christians. To help others be ready for his return.

In our community groups, that is our job!

It's not just about having a nice evening together. It's about helping others to be ready for the Master's return by helping them to know him better.

This is especially true if we are leaders. I am not saying this to paralyse us with fear; it is the word that acts. I am saying this to make us face up to our responsibilities.

Evangelism and mission serve to help people near and far to be ready for the master's return.

We are surrounded by people who are not ready. Jesus wants to use us to change that.

And may I say a word to parents?

When we have children, especially at first, we may think that it is time to put Christian service on hold.

This is not the case!

Our main role as parents is to help our children be ready for Jesus' return!

I am saying this to myself as much as to you.

Do you understand this up there in the nursery?

Our main parental task is to help our children be ready for Jesus' return!

Even if you are still dealing with nappies and bottles, do not lose sight of this.

We may have many ambitions for our children. This one is the most important!

While we wait for him to return, one of the best ways to stay alert is to remain active in his service.

How should we live if we believe the end of the world is coming but don't know when?

We do everything we can to make sure we are not asleep when it comes.

Perhaps tonight we would all benefit from sitting down to reflect, or if we are married, to discuss and pray about how we are going to stay awake in the long term.

How can we keep our eyes open for the master's return?

We may have many plans in life. None is more important than this one—to stay awake.

I am grateful to my wife for her more or less subtle ways of waking me up, and I'm not talking about alarm clock failures.

Joe, I'm not sure what you're going through with God right now!

Joe, when was the last time you asked me how I was doing spiritually?

We need others to wake us up!

I dare to believe that you do too.

Let's be a church that does that.

When will the end come?

21 December 2012 was supposed to be... the end of the world.

At least, that's what some people who had spent too much time studying Mayan mythology thought.

Not everyone agreed on how the end of the world would happen.  

That didn't stop a small group from gathering at the top of a mountain in the Pyrenees, near the small village of Bugarach, which they believed to be the only safe place on earth.

They woke up on 22 December to find that the world was still there, and that they too were still there... still surrounded by a few goats.

The Jehovah's Witnesses first announced that the end of the world would come in 1878, then in 1914, 1918, 1925, 1975 and 1994.

That's a lot of mistakes!

As a result, it's easy to get the impression that anyone who talks about the end of the world must be delusional. That no reasonable person can accept this idea.  

Perhaps what gives us this impression is the fact that the world around us seems so stable and solid.

Our routine, the commute, work, sleep, everything we see with our own eyes: everything seems so permanent that it is difficult to take seriously the idea that it could come to an end.

...

This impression of permanence must have been what Jesus' disciples felt when they looked at the temple in Jerusalem.

Look at Mark 13:1

As they were leaving the temple, one of the disciples said to Jesus, 'Teacher, look at these stones and these buildings!

The temple in question was a gigantic building made of large cut stones. The temple esplanade could hold 200,000 people. Its construction had taken several decades.

Perhaps like certain Parisian monuments—the Louvre, Notre Dame—the temple exuded permanence.  

But Jesus replied, "Do you see these great buildings? Not one stone will be left upon another; everything will be destroyed."

In recent weeks in the Gospel of Mark, Jesus has spoken a great deal about the temple in Jerusalem.

In Mark 11, we saw that the temple and its religion were to be judged.

In Mark 12, we saw why... the temple and its religion had to be judged.

In Mark 13, we ask ourselves the same question as the disciples: when?

"When... will this happen... and what will be the sign that it is near?"

We will see that in his answer, Jesus speaks... not of one event but of two.  

The judgement of the temple... but also... the judgement of the world.

And if Jesus speaks of these two events, it is because even though they are distinct, they are also linked.  

Jesus' purpose in this text is to show us that not everything that seems stable and solid is permanent.

This passage is not without its difficulties. I do not claim to understand everything. I would be happy to hear your thoughts. Next Sunday, we will have a question and answer session at the end of the service. Write down any questions you would like to ask!

But in fact, I feel that the message of this text is quite simple: Jesus is coming back.

We don't know when, it could happen at any time, and there is no more important event to prepare for.

Four points  

1.    Life before the end

2.    The end of the temple has passed

3.    The end of the world is near

4.    The hour of the end is unknown

1.    Life before the end

Before getting to the heart of the matter concerning the circumstances of the end, the first thing Jesus warns us about is what life will be like while we wait for the end.

He wants us to have the right expectations.

Some of you here are keen runners.

When preparing for a race, it is important to know not only how many kilometres there are to the finish line, but also what to expect along the way.

Cramps, dehydration, when it goes uphill, when it goes downhill.

You need to know what to expect so that you don't get discouraged and give up.

The same is true here.

Verse 4.  

The disciples ask: when will the end come? And what will be the sign that it is near? They want to know the timing.

But in verse 5, before talking about timing, Jesus says: be careful! Do not be led astray!

He warns them of several dangers.

First, do not be terrified by world news!

Verse 7 

"When you hear of wars and threats of wars, do not be frightened, for these things must happen. However, this will not yet be the end."

One factor that led Jehovah's Witnesses to predict the end of the world in 1914 was the outbreak of the First World War.

Throughout history, the outbreak of wars has often given rise to all kinds of speculation and hysteria that the end is near.

The danger of this type of speculation is that it creates panic, and then when the end does not come, one no longer knows what to believe.

Jesus says that these events, as terrible as they are, will surely happen, but... 

"it will not yet be the end."

In verse 8, he describes them rather as "the beginning of birth pains", and the word he uses refers to the pains of childbirth. 

Just as a pregnant woman may experience pain at any time during her pregnancy without it being time to give birth...

... wars, natural disasters and famines do not mean that the end is here.

They remind us that there will be an end. God will intervene to heal our world, but they do not tell us when.

Jesus says this so that we do not believe that God has lost control when these things happen.

Be careful... do not be terrified by world news!

Then... do not be seduced by fanatics.

Verse 5 

"Be careful that no one leads you astray. For many will come in my name and say, 'I am he,' and they will deceive many."

While the first warning concerned events that could trouble us, the second concerns people who could deceive us.

Either by claiming outright to be Jesus, or by falsely claiming to speak in his name.

One could cite the denial in certain traditional Protestant churches that Jesus was truly God or truly resurrected or that he will truly return.

Be careful, says Jesus. Do not be deceived.

We could cite the idea in some evangelical churches that we can receive new revelations from God that have the same value as the teachings of the Bible.

"The Lord told me this!"

Jesus says: be careful!

Anyone who claims to represent him is not to be taken at his word.

Do not be seduced by fanatics!

Do not be surprised by hostility.

Verse 9 

"Be on your guard. You will be handed over to courts and beaten in synagogues; you will stand before governors and kings because of me, to bear witness to them."

Jesus warns us about persecution.

It has always existed. Not in the same form at all times and in all places.

But wherever we want to live for Jesus and speak about him, hostility will be present in one form or another.

You may be familiar with Open Doors, which publishes an annual list of countries where persecution is most severe. This helps us to know how to pray.

The risk, since France is not on the list, is that we think it does not concern us.

But Jesus says here that as soon as we start talking about him publicly, there will inevitably be hostility in one form or another.

I am thinking of a Christian physiotherapist who appeared in a recent report on evangelical churches... and who has just been summoned by the physiotherapists' association to explain his comments.

Personally, I would not have expressed myself in exactly the same way as he did in the news report. But it is still a case of hostility of the kind described by Jesus.

It can arise even within the same family.

Verse 12

"Brothers will betray brothers to death, and fathers will betray their children; children will rebel against their parents and have them put to death."

I think of that friend with a Muslim background, disowned by his family and deprived of his inheritance because he follows Jesus.

Be careful. Do not be surprised by hostility.

When Jesus tells us these things, he is a bit like a coach at the start of a marathon who tells us: don't be surprised if at some point your legs hurt. Persevere 

He is not trying to make us anxious. He warns us out of love because he wants us to go all the way.

But perhaps you are wondering: does this mean that Jesus avoided the disciples' question? The question of timing? 

No

2. The end of the temple has passed

Let's read verse 14

"When you see the abomination of desolation [spoken of by the prophet Daniel] standing where it should not be... then let those who are in Judea flee to the mountains."

Jesus is talking about a time of great distress... when it will be urgent to flee as quickly as possible.

Those who are on the roof of their house will not even have time to go down and get their belongings.

Those working in the fields will not have time to fetch their cloaks.

It is a frightening description, so much so that one might think Jesus is describing the end of the world.

But when we look at the text more closely, we discover that this is not the case. Jesus is rather talking about a specific historical event.

This event is geographically limited. It is those who live in Judea—the region around Jerusalem—who must flee to the mountains. Not everyone.

Nor is it the last event in history.

Jesus says that "the distress will be such as has not been since the beginning of the world... and never will be again," implying that history continues after that.

Jesus is not talking about the destruction of the world. Rather, he is describing the destruction of the temple in Jerusalem.

This took place in the year 70 when the Roman army besieged Jerusalem, killed its inhabitants, and burned the temple.

This building, which seemed so solid and permanent... was reduced to ruins... only a few decades after Jesus spoke these words.

And Jesus says that this event was preceded by a warning sign. Did you notice that?

He said, "When you see the abomination of desolation... that is when it is time to flee the region."

This enigmatic expression - the abomination of desolation - comes from the book of Daniel in the Old Testament.

It refers to an act of desecration or sacrilege committed in the temple that would be the precursor to its final abandonment.

We do not know exactly what this was.

Perhaps it was an act committed in the temple by the Romans before they destroyed it.

Perhaps something the Jews did.

We do not know, and we do not need to know.

Because it was a sign only for the people of that time – in the first century – that they should flee Jerusalem.

Because God's judgement was about to fall upon Israel.

All of this is the culmination of what we have been seeing for several weeks in the Gospel of Mark.

We have seen that the people of Israel and their leaders had largely rejected God. They would go so far as to kill his son.

And so Jesus had announced that God would judge them because of this rebellion.

The destruction of the temple – the place that symbolised the special relationship between God and Israel – would be proof that this special relationship was now over.

But this event is not the same thing as the end of the world... despite what one might think...

I am going to ask you to concentrate for a moment!

When the Old Testament spoke of God's judgement, it sometimes said that this judgement would begin with the temple.

If you're interested in the reference, Malachi chapter 3 says this.

So one might think that when the temple was judged, the world would be judged at the same time.

 The disciples probably thought so.

But Jesus said that this is not quite how things will happen.

There will be a period of time between the two.

But the two events are linked, because the end of the temple is there to teach us something about the end of the world.

It serves as a kind of trailer. Like a teaser.

The end of the temple shows us how terrible God's judgement is on human rebellion.

How urgent it is to act without delay if we are warned that this judgement is coming.

And above all, and this is our third point, the end of the temple teaches us that the end of the world is near.

3. The end of the world is near!

 Verse 24. Jesus continues...

"But in those days, after that time of distress—after the destruction of the temple—the sun will be darkened, the moon will no longer give its light, the stars will fall from the sky, and the powers of the heavens will be shaken."

Here Jesus quotes parts of the Old Testament that speak of God's judgement on the whole world.

The world seems stable and solid today (and still). But these images show that this world is not as solid as we might think.

Even if the falling stars and the darkening sun are poetic language—and there are reasons to think so—the message is clear.

In the face of God's judgement, our world is not as permanent as we think.

In verse 26, Jesus says that it is then that we will see "the Son of Man coming on the clouds... with great power and glory. He will send his angels and gather his chosen ones from the four corners of the earth, from the ends of the earth to the ends of the sky."

This is another reference to the book of Daniel.

Daniel saw in a vision God sitting in judgment of the world, and someone described as 'the Son of Man' coming on the clouds.

And this Son of Man receives from God authority over all the peoples of the earth forever.

This vision is partly fulfilled when Jesus rises from the dead and returns to God.

Today Jesus reigns victorious at the right hand of God over the whole earth.

But as long as we still live in a broken and rebellious world, this vision is not yet fully realised.

We are still waiting.

But Jesus announces here in Mark that one day he will return in glory and be seen by all.

It will be then that this rebellious and disordered world will come to an end.

He will judge his enemies and save his people once and for all.

And the essential idea that he wants us to understand at all costs is that that day... is near.

Verses 28 - follow along with me 

Learn a lesson from the parable of the fig tree: as soon as its branches become tender and the leaves sprout, you know that summer is near. Likewise, when you see these things happening, know that the Son of Man is near, that he is at the door. Truly I tell you, this generation will not pass away until all these things have happened.

Some understood this last sentence, verse 30, as an announcement that Jesus would return during the disciples' lifetime.  

This generation will not pass away until all these things have happened.

And since Jesus did not return at that time... like many enlightened ones throughout history... he was wrong...

But... throughout this passage, the expression "all these things" refers to something very specific.

The destruction of the temple.

The disciples ask when "this" will happen... referring to the temple, for example. 

So it seems likely that when Jesus says that this generation will not pass away before all this happens, he is talking about the destruction of the temple... an event that did indeed occur during the disciples' lifetime.

But what Jesus is getting at in verse 29 is that when you see these things happening, it shows that the Son of Man is near, that he is at the door.

The end of the temple shows that the end of the world is near.

We may well ask ourselves, it has been 2000 years since the temple was destroyed. What did Jesus mean by "near"?

Obviously, he did not mean "right away," because we have been waiting for two millennia!

What does "near" mean?

When Jesus says that his return is near, it means that there are no other events that must happen first in God's calendar.

It is the next date on his agenda. Jesus is at the door, and he can come in whenever he wants.

Maybe in a long time, maybe this afternoon.

This is the meaning of the illustration of the fig tree.

When the leaves appear, it means that summer is coming. We don't know exactly when. It doesn't allow us to announce the precise date of the arrival of fine weather. But we know it is coming. It’s where we’re headed next.

The appearance of the leaves is like the destruction of the temple in the year 70. Once that has happened, Jesus can return at any moment.

If we are sceptical, we can go to Jerusalem and look at the ruins.

The temple was indeed destroyed... just as Jesus had foretold.

Now, the end of the temple and the end of the world are part of the same package.

Not everything that looks stable and solid is permanent.

But if the end of the world is 'near'... the hour of the end is also... unknown.

This is the final point:

4. The hour of the end is unknown!

Verse 32

“But of that day and hour no one knows, not even the angels in heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father.”

Sometimes we hear of Christians who think they can pinpoint the moment of the end.

Since such-and-such an event has happened in such-and-such a part of the world, the end will come on such-and-such a date. Mark it in your diary!

It is striking that these people claim to know more than Jesus himself.

No one knows the day or the hour... except the Father.

Jesus says it is like a man going on a journey.

He leaves his house to his servants.

He explains to them the work to be done, orders the gatekeeper to stay awake, and then leaves.

Verse 35

Therefore, stay awake, for you do not know when the master of the house will come: in the evening, or in the middle of the night, or at cockcrow, or in the morning.

In other words, we know that Jesus will return. We just don't know when.

His request is that we should not be 'asleep' when he returns.

Next Sunday we will have a whole sermon on what it means to be ready and not asleep when Jesus returns.

So I won't dwell on that now.

What I would like us to remember today is that Jesus' teaching on the end of the world, as we know it, is actually... very simple.

Jesus will certainly return to judge the world. x2

We do not know when he’ll return.

But we know that he’ll return.

There is nothing else on God's agenda that must come before it.

So there are two extremes to avoid.

There is a type of Christian who lives in what I would call a state of permanent 'eschatological anxiety'.

'Eschatological' simply means to do with the end.

People who live in a state of eschatological anxiety are obsessed with the question of when Jesus will return and spend their time fretting over the news to try to decipher how imminent the end is.

We saw people fall into this during the pandemic.

We see it every time there is conflict in the Middle East.

If you go on YouTube, you will always find people who live in this state of eschatological anxiety and who take advantage of situations of instability in the world to induce the same anxiety in others.

This week, I watched several rather far-fetched videos that fell into this trap.

If you recognise yourself in this profile, Jesus says: calm down.

There is a sign that his return is near. It happened 2,000 years ago: the destruction of the Temple in Jerusalem.

But there is another extreme, which is undoubtedly more common. It is even more dangerous.
It is to ignore the fact that Jesus will return.

I wouldn't be surprised if most of us lean towards this tendency. 

If that is us, we need to heed Jesus' repeated warning in this passage.

Be careful, be on your guard, stay awake, stay alert.

The destruction of the temple in AD 70 really happened. It was a terrible event.

We have testimonies from Jewish historians who saw with their own eyes the devastation and misery of those who suffered it. When you read these testimonies you see that Jesus wasn’t exaggerating when he described it as the most awful tribulation ever.

But Jesus says that this was just the trailer.

If we know this, dear friends, it should make us tremble.

Not tremble because we are stressed out trying to figure out the date and wondering if it's time to start stocking up on tinned food and toilet rolls.

No, trembling because we understand that God is not messing around when it comes to evil in the world.

If you are like me, I imagine you have moments when you particularly want God to clean up this world.

Lord, why do you let these trials continue?

Why don't these injustices stop?

Why is there so much pain everywhere?

Lord, come and clean up!

Jesus has a word for the moment when God cleans up this world. It is the word 'judgement'.

That's what it means, God's judgement. It's when God cleans up! It's when he straightens out what is crooked, repairs what is broken, and removes from him everything that has no place in his kingdom.

A question that may trouble some of us is, "If God exists, why doesn't he put an end to evil?"

Good question!

Jesus does not dodge this question.

He answers... yes, I will put an end to evil!

The even more important question is: will we be ready for when he does that?

If Jesus is going to set right what is crooked and remove all that is evil, will I, who am stained by evil in all kinds of ways be ready?

If you cannot answer with great certainty, know that as Jesus utters these words, he is about to die so that we may be made ready, by receiving his forgiveness so that we don’t have to fear this judgement.

Have we accepted his offer of forgiveness?

This passage leaves us with a definite expectation: Jesus will return to judge.

We should tremble because we understand what is at stake

We should also tremble with joy...

The dream of a better world, free from everything that spoils it, where God has cleaned up, is not a fantasy!

God kept his promise concerning the temple – we can go and see the ruins that prove it.

We know that he will keep his promise about Jesus' return.

Talking about judgement and the end of the world as we know it can be frightening, and it should make us tremble, but it is also a way of saying that in the end, Jesus... wins!

This week I was reading an article about the increasing persecution of Christians in China.

If there is one thing these Christians pray for above all else, it is undoubtedly for Jesus to return.

Our life in this world, as difficult as it may be, as good as it may be, is not the end goal.

In the end, Jesus wins!

So, may I suggest something you can do? Take out your phone, and if you have a calendar app, create a recurring event that pops up every day: Jesus may return today! 

How should we live while we wait? We'll see next Sunday. So, if Jesus hasn't returned in the meantime, come back!