Sunday Sermon: What Shall I Say?
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Text: John 12:27-33
Series: “The Prayers of Jesus”
It happens to every one of us at one time or another. Someone says something or does something or something happens that catches us off guard and we don’t know just how we should respond. Maybe it’s an offhanded comment someone makes to us. Maybe it’s a breathtaking sight that came upon us out of the blue. Maybe it’s a friend who shows up when we weren’t expecting him to do so or a recognition that came to us that we never were predicting. Whatever the circumstances, we were caught flat-footed and unprepared and ultimately speechless. “What can I say?”
We’ve all been there; have we not? We’ve all been in that place where the reality of something comes crashing down upon us in a way for which we were simply not ready. Of course, after the fact, we think of a thousand things we might have said, but in the moment, we were so blindsided by the situation that we couldn’t say anything.
It may surprise you to know that there was a time in Jesus’ life where he too was caught off-guard and left speechless. It was the last week of his life. Jesus had come into Jerusalem on Sunday of Passover week, riding on a donkey, which had caused the great crowd that had come into town for the Passover to lift their voices in praise, acclaiming him as the “King of Israel.” But that wasn’t what left Jesus speechless. What left Jesus speechless was when two of his disciples, Andrew and Philip, came to him with a request, a request from some Greek-speaking Jews who had journeyed to Jerusalem for the Passover feast and had asked his disciples to help them see Jesus. It was at that point, John tells us, that Jesus realized that his time had finally come to go to the cross. No more was the cross something Jesus would have to deal with in the distant future. The fact that these Greeks had now asked to see and experience him was like a splash of cold water in Jesus’ face, an unanticipated wake-up call that the cross was not merely a likely thing, it was an inevitable thing. And Jesus was, but for a moment, left speechless.
“Now my heart is troubled, and what shall I say? ‘Father, save me from this hour’?”
No one should blame Jesus for the deep agitation that had come over his soul. After all, the previous days had more than taken their toll on him. Think about it. First, there was the death of his friend Lazarus, the one Jesus had raised from the dead. Then there was the predictable response of the Jewish religious leaders to Lazarus’ resurrection, which caused Jesus to go into temporary hiding. Add to that the poignant act of the anointing of his feet that Mary had performed at the celebration dinner Lazarus and his sisters had just thrown for Jesus, an act that Jesus could see would lead one of his disciples, Judas Iscariot to betray him. Now, consider the adulation of the multitudes when Jesus felt it safe to show his face by riding into Jerusalem on that Sunday prior to the Passover, fickle as the crowd’s adulation was. The “gospel train” had left the station, and Jesus could see that there was no stopping it now, unless he decided to jump off for good. But of course, he didn’t. If anything, he stayed with it “for good.”
“Father,” he prayed. “Glorify your name.” In other words, use all that is about to happen for your good purpose. Let everyone see in what I am about to do the magnificent splendor of your character and the transforming love you have for the world. Let your power and your glory, your dominion and your power be evident to all – Greeks, Jews, and ultimately the entire world.
Sometimes we think Jesus doesn’t understand our struggles. Sometimes we assume that as the Son of God, Jesus could not possibly appreciate the challenges and the difficulties and those unpleasant realities that come upon us at those times when we’re least prepared to deal with them. But this simple prayer shows us that Jesus does understand and that he indeed can appreciate those moments that leave us speechless and unsure how we should respond.
As Jesus offered his simple prayer, “Glorify your name,” we are told that a voice came from heaven, a voice that answered, “I have glorified it,” speaking of those seven miraculous signs God had empowered Jesus to do, “and I will glorify it again,” speaking of Jesus’ cross and his resurrection. “I will glorify it again.”
John tells us that the crowd that had gathered around Jesus heard the voice but couldn’t quite make out what it was. Some thought it was the sound of thunder, a sound often associated with divine revelation; think the thunder of Sinai in the Old Testament. Others thought it was the voice of an angel, a messenger of God sent to deliver some important word God wanted people to know. We might say the crowd, which had lauded Jesus on Palm Sunday, was left somewhat speechless, until Jesus helped them understand what was taking place and, more importantly, how to respond to it.
“This voice was for your benefit, not for mine.” This voice was to deliver you from the time of judgment that is coming upon the world and upon the prince of darkness who will soon be driven out. This voice is designed to draw you to the cross upon which the Prince of Glory will die so that by being drawn to him, you may live.
This story reminds me of a quote by John Calvin, the great 16th century Protestant reformer, who said concerning Jesus, “Christ saves us by the whole course of his obedience.” In other words, while we see Jesus’ death on the cross as his crowning act of obedience to God’s will, the truth of the matter is that every moment of his life was a moment where when faced with the choice to obey or disobey, Jesus always chose the path in which his life was always in alignment with God’s. Even when circumstances caught him by surprise and he would become confronted with the costs of embracing God’s will, Jesus always chose to go with God, and because he did, we can see what in the face of the unexpected and surprising circumstances that come upon us we must say and what we must do to be released from Satan’s grip so that we may know God’s abundant life. “What shall I say? ‘Father, save me from this hour’? No, it was for this very reason I came to this hour. Father, glorify your name!”
As we come to the beginning of this week we call “Holy,” can you make that your prayer? “Father, glorify your name!” Can you, in the face of the situations that tend to leave you speechless, let go of your fears and your trepidations and let God do in your life that which only God can do?
Someone has said, “He who cannot let go cannot hold on.” Think about that for a moment. That sounds like something we might read in the Gospel of John, where there are so many seemingly opposite realities that can only be resolved by trusting all of them to Jesus, such as crowd on one day cheering for Jesus to be crowned king and only five days later cheering for him to be crucified. Theologians call these times and situations “liminal” ones. That word is from the Latin, which means a threshold space, a transition space, a space where you’ve just left something behind, and yet you’re not fully inside something else. It’s an in-between space, a space that is filled with silence and speechlessness – the kind of space that exists between a cross and an empty tomb. But here, Jesus shows us how to trust those times and spaces to a God who, when we do, will show up in a glorious way to work for our own good.
Maybe this Palm Sunday has found you in such a space. Don’t let the devil get your tongue. After all, there’s no reason for him to do so. What we celebrate this very week is the way God honored Jesus’ faith by working in both his death and his resurrection to drive out the prince of this world. And God will honor your faith in the same way. In the face of all that has left you speechless, God will give you a reason to rejoice. Then, you will be in a better place, even a place where you can lift up your heart and lift up your voice to give him glory, as you say, and as you know what you’re saying, “Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord.”