A Glorious Death
Sermon Theme: Jesus’ ultimate glory is his crucifixion, by which he draws us to himself. Text: John 12:20–43
Other Lessons: Zechariah 9:9–12; Psalm 118:19–29 or Psalm 31:9–16; Philippians 2:5–11; Mark 14:1–15:47 or Mark 15:1–47
Goal: That we participate in Jesus’ glory, daily dying to sin and receiving his forgiveness. These sermon ideas were gleaned from a sermon in CPR by Rev. Michael W. Henrichs,
Sermon: Jesus’ Ultimate Glory Is His Crucifixion,
by Which He Draws Us to Himself.
As if there were still any question about what lay ahead for Jesus, he employs a metaphor to make it even clearer: “Truly, truly, I say to you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains alone; but if it dies, it bears much fruit” (v 24). Jesus is that grain of wheat. Try to keep it and preserve it, and you get nothing. But bury it in the earth, and it rises up to bear much fruit. So it would be for Jesus. He would go the way of death and the grave, just like a seed is cast into the ground. Jesus will lose His life only to take it up again three days later. And in his dying and rising, he will bear much fruit; he will earn the gift of your salvation.
This is what we expect to hear at the beginning of Holy Week—Jesus talking about dying and rising. It’s why Jesus came. It’s why we commemorate this week as holy.
But then—the unexpected. Jesus turns the Palm Sunday tables. If you thought you could glide through Holy Week safely ensconced like a spectator in the stands, soaking up the Passion, pomp, and pageantry, think again. It turns out that dying and rising has as much to do with you as with Jesus. “Whoever loves his life loses it,” Jesus says, “and whoever hates his life in this world will keep it for eternal life” (v 25). And then comes the phrase that pays: “If anyone serves me, he must follow me” (v 26).That’s you Jesus is referring to. You must follow him. How it goes for Jesus, so it shall go for you. Expect to get treated like Jesus got treated: trials, temptations, turmoil—and, eventually, dying and rising. Follow Jesus, and that’s what you get.
We don’t much care for this way of speaking. But at least nobody can accuse Jesus of false advertising. Jesus never claimed that following him would be easy. Yet that’s the popular myth to which lots of Christians subconsciously subscribe. Popular TV preachers and televangelists often perpetuate this myth. Many of them have been known to say that following Jesus means you can expect nothing but the best, here and now, today. Follow Jesus, and watch life’s pressures and disappointments melt away. Follow Jesus, and you won’t have depression or sickness or worry. In reality, what Jesus says is, “Follow me, and give up all control. Follow me to the cross and grave. Follow me—and fall into the earth like a grain of wheat and die.”
Everybody dies, of course, so what’s Jesus talking about? What does he mean? Well, the New Testament tells us that Baptism is a kind of death—that in Baptism we are buried with Jesus into death (Rom 6:4)—that in Baptism we died and our life is now hidden with Christ in God (Col 3:3). Amen to that. If you were thinking of Baptism before I mentioned it, give yourself a pat on the back. But remember, the dying and rising of Baptism isn’t a one-time event. It’s a daily occurrence. Baptism is a way of life: dying to sin, rising to new life with Jesus. At one point, Paul wrote, “I die every day” (1 Cor 15:31). What he meant was that, as Luther says in the catechism, every day, our old Adam with all his filth and sin needs to be drowned and die.
What needs to die in you? What part of you needs to be put to death? In what area of life does your old Adam reign supreme? There’s a very selfish way of thinking about Holy Week that goes like this: Jesus died and rose for me so that I don’t have to change a thing—so that I can live complacently and comfortably, without having to do the hard work of changing my sinful life. But in fact isn’t the opposite true? Jesus died and rose for me so that everything is changed in me—so that I can do battle daily against the sin in me—against everything that prevents me from following Jesus. That’s what Luther says baptizing with water indicates. Holy Week is not about living complacently—about watching Jesus’ agonizing prayers, arrest, trials, and crucifixion all unfold with a spectator’s detachment. Holy Week is about the urgency of putting to death every part of you that loves this life more than Jesus and the eternal life he gives.
It’s not easy. It’s painful and difficult. But with Jesus—with faith in Jesus—all things are possible, including the hard work of repentance. It’s a strange combination: death and glory. You and I would never even think of using those two words in the same sentence. What seems glorious to us in this world usually means applause and accolades and compliments. For us, glory means basking in the spotlight, fame and fortune. It means winning, not losing—and certainly not dying. But the glory of Jesus is centered on the cross. The glory of Jesus doesn’t shine; it bleeds. It bleeds for you and for your salvation.
Jesus’ greatest glory is to do the will of his Father, to accomplish what he took on human flesh to do: to lay down his life as a sin-sacrifice for the world—to give up his back to those who struck him—to raise his face to spit and shame, disgrace and mockery. Jesus’ glory shines brightest in the darkness of death—the death of Jesus for you. It was truly a glorious death.
In the glorious death of Jesus, Jesus lifts you up from death to life. In that glorious death, God and sinners are reconciled. Your sin is forgiven. Men and women are justified. “If we have been united with [Jesus] in a death like his, we shall certainly be united with him in a resurrection like his” (Rom 6:5). Die with Jesus—and rise with Jesus. Jesus is drawing you to himself, and he will not stop until you behold him face to face.
You have been crucified with Christ. His glorious death is your glorious death. You no longer live, but Christ lives in you. In Jesus, you are that grain of wheat—a solitary seed—dead to yourself but alive to God in Christ. You’ve been buried in the fertile soil of Jesus’ death so that you, too, might rise and bear much fruit. May this Holy Week be for you absolutely glorious! Amen.