Behind me hangs a wooden cross. Entering this building, you might’ve noticed white bricks forming the shape of a cross. There’s a cross printed on the order of service and a cross on this pulpit. Some of you wear a cross necklace. Maybe etched on the cover of your Bible is a cross. We sang about the cross, we read of the cross, and today I’m preaching about the cross. Like the Star of David represents Judaism or the Crescent represents Islam, the cross has, for centuries, represented Christianity.

In some ways, that’s not too surprising. The four Gospels in our New Testament each structure their accounts to slow us down the nearer Jesus draws to the cross. It’s their way of causing us to pause on this momentous event. The early church in Acts announced the cross of Christ as good news for those enslaved to sin. Paul wrote things like, “far be it from me to boast except in the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ.” So, it makes sense that the cross would become central to the Christian faith.

At the same time, we must recognize how strange it was that anybody would identify with a cross. In the first century, most would’ve found this symbol repulsive. Prior to the first-century, Cicero said the cross was “a most cruel and disgusting punishment.” “There is no fitting word that can possibly describe so horrible a deed.”[i] It became Rome’s version of the gallows. Crucifixion sent a message to the public: “This is what happens to all who challenge the empire.” Perhaps you’ve heard of the defeat of Spartacus. In 71 BC, the Romans crucified 6,000 rebel slaves, hanging them on the Apian roadside, every so many yards apart, for 120 miles.

A cross was a sign of public shame and humiliation. Victims were mocked and spat upon. Criminals hung publicly till their half-naked bodies suffocated. Corpses were left to rot or be eaten by vultures. In ancient literature, it’s rare to find a crucifixion described, not because it didn’t happen often but because writers were hesitant to dwell on it.[ii] Much like a noose hanging from a tree sickens our stomach, so the cross would sicken those of the Roman world. Even Romans, who watched gladiator games for sport, couldn’t stomach a cross. The Jews also knew that a person hung on a cross was cursed.

It’s no wonder that Paul would eventually call the cross a stumbling block to Jews and folly for Gentiles (1 Cor 1:23). Put yourself in the shoes of somebody in first-century Rome. Since you were little, your momma had to guard your eyes from such a public spectacle; and now you come across this group of Christians saying, “Come and follow Jesus of Nazareth. Yeah, that one who was crucified. Far be it from me to boast except in the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ.” You’d look at them like they’re crazy. Many others died on crosses before, and their movements died with them.

What makes Jesus’ cross so different, so important? Well, that’s what the New Testament seeks to explain. In some ways, Jesus’ death was like that of others. But in so many crucial ways, his death on the cross was different. And the apostles knew it was different not only by what Jesus taught them about his death, not only by what they witnessed in his death, but also by the fact that Jesus rose from the dead three days later. Suddenly, his cross was unique. It was central in God’s purpose to save the world. The world saw the cross as weakness, but the weakness of God proved stronger than men. God entered humanity’s most wretched moment and in love worked for our good.

The Cross as Revelation

Today, I want to reflect on four glories of Jesus’ cross—and by now you’ve probably figured out that I’m diverging from our series in Titus. Next week for Easter we’ll look at the glories of Jesus’ resurrection. But today, for Palm Sunday, we’re looking at four glories of Jesus’ cross; and the first glory I want us to see is the cross as revelation. God reveals his glory uniquely in the cross.

“Now, wait a minute,” you say, “we just said the cross is an object of shame. How can you now say it’s a revelation of glory.” Well, John’s Gospel helps us. John is known for its opening line, “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God and the Word was God” (John 1:1). Then, in verse 14 John adds, “and the Word became flesh and dwelt among us, and we have seen his glory, glory as of the only Son from the Father.” John wants you to see the glory he witnessed in Jesus; and the place he witnessed glory most supremely is at the cross.

John drives his entire Gospel toward an appointed “hour,” the hour of Jesus’ death. But as that hour approaches in John 12:23, listen to the way Jesus talks about it: “the hour has come for the Son of Man to be glorified.” Then he compares his death with a grain of wheat that must die to bear fruit. Then he prays this way in 12:27: “For this purpose I have come to this hour. Father, glorify your name.” Jesus’ humiliation on the cross is simultaneously the revelation of God’s glory.

In Scripture, God’s glory was the weighty display of his intrinsic worth and goodness. God himself is invisible. But his glory is when his worth and goodness went public. Sometimes, that happened through a theophany like the glory cloud filling the tabernacle.[iii] More often, people witnessed God’s glory when God acted to judge and to save.[iv] You can’t see God, but you can see Pharaoh’s army tossed into the sea and God’s people saved. The cross is an event like that—we’re supposed to see in the cross a public, historical act of God revealing his glory in judging sin and saving sinners.

John then weaves this together with another theme, that of Jesus being “lifted up.” John 3:14 is one example, “As Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, so must the Son of Man be lifted up.” But eventually we learn that Jesus being “lifted up” contains a double meaning. The Romans will physically “lift up” Jesus’ body on a cross; but God will be “lifting up” his Son in a sense of exaltation.

How do we know this? Because John borrows from Isaiah, who normally applied that language to God and his temple mount being “lifted up” (or exalted). Six times Isaiah says that God or his temple will be “lifted up” above all others.[v] There’s only one exception; and that’s when Isaiah applies that language to the Suffering Servant in Isaiah 52:13. “Behold, my servant shall act wisely; he shall be high and lifted up, and shall be exalted.” Isaiah applies to the Servant the same words he applied to God.

John carries that over and basically says, “When you see Jesus lifted up on the cross, you are witnessing God exalting his Servant. You are witnessing God’s glory in his Servant conquering sin, death, and the devil.” Paradoxically, Jesus’ death becomes the greatest revelation of God’s glory. We see in the cross the glory of God’s holiness—he does not tolerate sin. We see in the cross the glory of God’s justice—he must punish wrong. We see in the cross the glory of God’s mercy—he does not repay us according to what our sins deserved. We see in the cross the glory of his love—willingly he gives himself to bring us to himself. On we could go with the glories revealed at the cross.

But here’s the point I want to make. Let the cross of Christ shape your vision of God. Some people minimize God’s holiness. God is more of a cosmic grandfather, who spoils his grandkids despite their misbehavior. Sin isn’t a big deal. It’s not that bad—they might even compare themselves to others in the process. But if the cross is a revelation of God’s glory, then we must see that God is indeed holy. Sin is no small offense, if it requires a sacrifice of such infinite worth. That vision of God’s holiness should make us flee sin and hate sin and seek the Lord’s forgiveness.

Others, though, can’t imagine that God is a loving Father. Sometimes that’s because they’ve never known a loving father on earth. Others had loving fathers, but they still can’t see how a holy God could show them love. In their eyes, they’re sin is too great. Perhaps you can’t escape the constant feelings of guilt. You’re always afraid that God is angry with you. It’s like he’s an ogre-like tyrant ready to snap.

But again, if the cross is the revelation of God, we need to see that God is indeed loving. The gospel isn’t a story about a loving Son warding off his angry Father. No. At the cross we see the manner in which, and the degree to which, the Father loves his people. The Father gave up his only Son. The Son images the Father’s love as he lays down his life. To use Jesus’ words to Philip in John 14:9: “If you’ve seen me, you’ve seen the Father.” Jesus’ love on the cross is the Father’s love for you displayed. Can you see his glory, glory as of the only Son from the Father, full of grace and truth?

The Cross as Substitution

Perhaps you’ll see his glory more as we continue to our next point—the cross as substitution. Every so often, you run across verses like these. John 10:11—Jesus says, “I am the good shepherd. The good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep.” Or Jesus’ words at the Last Supper in Matthew 26:28, “this is my blood of the covenant, which is poured out for many for the forgiveness of sins.” 1 Peter 3:18, “Christ also suffered once for sins, the righteous for the unrighteous, that he might bring us to God.”

“For the sheep,” “for many,” “for the unrighteous”—contexts like these have in mind the idea of substitution. If you serve as a substitute teacher, you might say, “I’m teaching for him today.” You don’t simply mean that you’re teaching for his advantage; but even more, you’re teaching in his place. Same here but with death on the line—Jesus dies for us, meaning in our place.

Sometimes this idea of substitution recalls the sacrifices under God’s law. Because God is holy, he cannot overlook sin. Sin deserves death. In the Old Testament, this was pictured in the sin offerings, which were an atonement for sin. Atonement had to do with inflicting the death penalty for sin upon another in your place. When Jesus suffered and died on the cross, he poured out his blood like that sin offering. But his sacrifice was far better. He was a human sacrifice, and he was a perfect human sacrifice. So, his substitution was once and for all. Decisive and final.

Isaiah 53 had even anticipated a human substitute like this. Verses 4-5 put it this way: “He was pierced for our transgressions; he was crushed for our iniquities; upon him was the chastisement that brought us peace, and with his wounds we are healed.” Jesus became our human substitute, dying the death we deserved for our sins.

But this idea not only recalls the sacrifices under God’s law; it also recalls the curse of God’s law. Consider Galatians 3:13, “Christ redeemed us from the curse of the law by becoming a curse for us [i.e., in our place]—for it is written, ‘Cursed is everyone who is hanged on a tree.’” Paul says that those who fail to keep God’s law are under God’s curse. That’s bad news for all of us—we are lawbreakers. We deserve the curse of God to fall on us. That curse includes death, punishment, and separation from God.

But here’s the good news, Jesus is the only person who did not deserve God’s curse. His life of perfect obedience means that he deserves all God’s blessings. Yet he hung on a cursed tree—the innocent in place of the guilty—so that our curse would fall on him and the blessings of God’s promise would fall on us. I love how Paul even personalizes this in Galatians 2:20, “the life I now live in the flesh I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me.”

Can you say that today? “The Son of God loved me and gave himself for me.” Christianity is not simply the ability to repeat doctrines the church has historically confessed. That has its place. But more important is knowing these things truly, personally, and taking them to heart. Do you view the cross as the event where Jesus took your place…as a substitute atonement…as a substitute curse-bearer? There’s no other substitute before God. Your own obedience will never qualify you. You have no goodness that will eventually outweigh the bad. But if Jesus is your substitute, you have all you need to stand forgiven and blessed before God.

The Cross as Propitiation

Tied to substitution is also the idea of propitiation. And that’s where I want to head next—the cross as propitiation. On its own propitiation is “the averting of wrath by the offering of a gift.”[vi] That idea is not unique to Christianity. Pagans were often seeking to appease their gods with some kind of offering or bribe. But when it comes to propitiation in Christianity there are important differences.

One is that God’s wrath is never capricious, unpredictable. He’s not moody. Leon Morris put it this way: “[God’s wrath is] not some irrational passion bursting forth uncontrollably, but a burning zeal for the right coupled with a perfect hatred for everything that is evil.”[vii] God is not easily provoked. He’s “slow to anger, abounding in steadfast love and faithfulness, keeping steadfast love for thousands, forgiving iniquity and transgression and sin, but who will by no means clear the guilty” (Exod 34:6).

Another important difference is that in paganism humans have no clue what satisfies the gods. As we all know from “your beloved King Julien” in Madagascar, it’s somewhat a guessing game about what next to toss into this volcano. “Does it work?” somebody says. King Julien replies, “No. I mean Yes.” Maurice then says, “Yeah, it’s fifty-fifty.” But in the Scriptures, God reveals his holiness. We know what displeases him. He also reveals the only sacrifice that will avert his anger. It was foreshadowed repeatedly in the Old Testament, and it was fulfilled in the sacrifice of Christ.

Then there is also the fact that in paganism humans are expected to produce the gift by their own initiative. They’ve got to come up with something that’s good enough to make the god happy. But in the Bible, God takes the initiative. He provides the gift; and it is the gift of his only Son. The gift that averts God’s wrath is offered by God himself on the cross. 1 John 4:10 says this, “In this is love, not that we have loved God but that he loved us and sent his Son to be the propitiation for our sins.”

I wonder if you got that? The offering of Jesus as your propitiation did not make God loving toward you. God loved you and that love worked itself out in sending his Son to be your propitiation. Don’t get the wrong picture: this is not Jesus stepping in to calm his angry Father. This is Jesus going willingly as the very embodiment of God’s own love. In propitiation, God’s love provided what his holiness required.

So, we could put it like this: propitiation is God’s loving act to remove his wrath against sinners in the death of Christ.

Sometimes propitiation appears explicitly. We just read from 1 John 4. But I’m also thinking of Romans 3:25, “God put [Jesus] forward as a propitiation by his blood.” Another comes in Hebrews 2:17, Jesus became our merciful and faithful High Priest, “to make propitiation for the sins of the people.” 1 John 2:2, “[Jesus] is the propitiation for our sins, and not for ours only but also for the sins of the whole world.”

At other times in Scripture, you will find propitiation implicitly. John 3:36— Jesus says, “Whoever believes in the Son has eternal life; whoever does not obey the Son shall not see life, but the wrath of God remains on him.” Believing in the Son (Jesus) means that God’s wrath no longer remains on you. You experience eternal life.

Or, if we considered some of the strange signs around Jesus’ cross. When the soldiers crucify Jesus, Matthew 27:45 describes three hours of supernatural darkness over the land. In the Old Testament, darkness was often a sign of God’s judgment falling on a people.[viii] At the cross, the skies grow dark because in those three hours God’s judgment was falling on Jesus in our place. This is propitiation.

Anyone united to Jesus by faith—you need to rest assured that your judgment is taken away. How often we can fall into this trap of trying to cut a deal with God, trying to do something else to make him happy—“Maybe this act of kindness or this prayer will finally win him over.” But brother, sister—you need to hear this again: in Christ, there is no wrath left for you. It was all taken away at the cross.

Even now, when you sin, God has provided an Advocate, Jesus Christ the righteous. He is the propitiation for your sins. You don’t need to keep beating yourself up. You don’t need to keep being angry at yourself, as if you must dish out the punishment. God already sees your sin exhaustively for what it is. He knows how to be angry with it. He executes his punishment perfectly. And he has satisfied his wrath against you forever in Christ. Nothing more is necessary.

But if you’re here and you wouldn’t consider yourself a Christian, the wrath of God remains on you. You can do nothing to assuage God’s anger. The punishment you deserve for your sins is too much for you to bear. You can never satisfy it. But it’s not too much for Christ. In Christ, God satisfies your punishment. God gave him as a propitiation in his blood to be received by faith. So, turn to Christ, take him at his word, trust in his death as your propitiation, and you will know peace with God.

I also love what Milton Vincent says in his little book, A Gospel Primer: “The more absorbed I am in the gospel, the more grateful I become in the midst of my circumstances, whatever they may be…The gospel reminds me first that what I actually deserve from God is a full cup churning with the torments of his wrath. This is the cup that would be mine to drink if I were given what I deserve each day. With this…in mind I see that to be handed a completely empty cup from God would be cause enough for infinite gratitude. If there were merely the tiniest drop of blessing contained in that otherwise empty cup, I should be blown away by the unbelievable kindness of God toward me. That God in fact has given me a cup that is full of “every spiritual blessing in Christ,” and this without the slightest mixture of wrath, leaves me truly dumbfounded with inexpressible joy. As for my specific earthly circumstances of plenty or want I can see them always as infinite improvements on the hell I deserve.”[ix]

The Cross as Redemption

One more glory of the cross: the cross as redemption. The word “redeemed” gets thrown around a lot—redeeming music, redeeming media, redeeming culture. But when the Bible uses “redemption,” it has a people in view, not things. It’s not something that happens to things or structures, but to people in union with Christ. Also, redemption has a specific Old Testament backdrop. It has to do with a payment being made to loose people from captivity.[x] It comes from Exodus.

God’s people are in slavery. They’re slaves to Pharaoh’s tyranny. They can’t escape by their own power. God must rescue them. Nine plagues of judgment fall, but it’s not till the tenth plague that Israel experiences freedom. That tenth plague is the death of all the firstborn. So, as part of freeing his people in relation to that final plague of death, God institutes the Passover. Exodus 12-13—each household takes an unblemished lamb and sacrifices it. They paint the lamb’s blood on the doorposts. When God passed through Egypt to kill the firstborn—if he saw the blood of the lamb, he would pass over you. Under the lamb’s blood wouldn’t suffer God’s judgment in death. And if you escaped death, you were also liberated from slavery. Freedom came at the cost of a lamb.

That redemption in Exodus was telling a much bigger story. Far more serious, we are slaves to sin. Someone greater than us, someone greater than sin—God has to liberate us; and he did it at the cost of his Son. Jesus is the true Passover Lamb. Jesus frees us from the tyranny of sin at the cost of his life. Matthew 20:28, “even as the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many.” Ephesians 1:7, “in him we have redemption through his blood.” Titus 2:14, “[Jesus] gave himself for us to redeem us from all lawlessness…”

But something else takes place as well in redemption. We’re freed not only from the power of sin; we are freed from the power of Satan. Satan loves to use our guilt to accuse us. Revelation 12 calls him the Accuser of the brethren. Colossians 2 compares his use of our guilt to a kind of blackmail, as he holds up your certificate of debt. Satan keeps people in bondage this way. But if the blood of Jesus has freed us from bondage to sin (redemption), if it has dealt with our punishment (propitiation), if it has cleared our guilt (substitution), then Satan has been disarmed. The Accuser has been silenced. That certificate of debt was nailed to the cross. This is why Revelation 12:11 says, “[the saints] have conquered [the Dragon] by the blood of the Lamb.”

This is redemption—freedom from bondage to sin and Satan at the cost of Jesus’ blood. What would you say are your biggest sin struggles? Lust, fear of man, envy, impatience, bitterness, lying, discontentment, unthankfulness, judgmentalism, harshness to your child? Christ is your redemption from those specific sins. In Christ, you have the freedom and power to say “No” and now replace those things with a new obedience. Because of his work on the cross, we can fight sin, and we can live in ways that please God and love our neighbors. The powers of darkness no longer control us; Jesus has liberated us from their grip and seated us with him in the heavenly places.

Or maybe it’s not just your own sins that burden you; it’s also the sins of others. You’re broken-hearted for how sin is destroying their relationships. You hate the way Satan and the powers of darkness dominate them; and you want so very badly to reach in and change it all, but you just can’t. Brothers and sisters, Jesus can. He is the Redeemer. You can pray that he would redeem these people; and you can tell them about the Redeemer. Faith comes by hearing, and hearing by the word of Christ.

Conclusion

If you were making up a religion in first-century Rome, this is not the way to go. You’re not going to win followers by centering your group on a man who was hung by Rome on a shameful cross—a man who, in light of that cross, says, “Lose your life to save it,” “die to self in order to live,” “the last will be first,” “the meek will inherit the earth,” “the greatest must become slave of all,” “become poor to make others rich,” “weakness is where God reveals his strength.” That message is absolute folly…unless Jesus’ cross truly means what the New Testament says it means. And given that Jesus walked out of the grave three days later, we can count on it.

For your darkness, God brought revelation. For your guilt, God brought substitution. For your punishment, God brought propitiation. For your bondage, God brought redemption. All at the cross. It’s no wonder that Paul would say things like “Far be it from me to boast except in the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ” (Gal 6:14). Is the cross your boast? Do you see these glories? The world might call it folly and weakness. But for those who are called, it is the power of God and the wisdom of God.

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[i] As cited in John Stott, The Cross of Christ (Downers Grove: IVP, 2006), 30.

[ii] Joel B. Green, “Death of Jesus,” in Dictionary of Jesus and the Gospels (Downers Grove: IVP, 2002), 147.

[iii] Exod 33:18-34:7; 40:34-35. 

[iv] E.g., Exod 14:17-18; Isa 40:5.

[v] Isa 2:2, 11, 17; 5:16; 12:4; 30:18.

[vi] Leon Morris, The Apostolic Preaching of the Cross (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1965), 211.

[vii] Morris, Apostolic Preaching, 209.

[viii] E.g., Exod 10:21-22; Joel 2:1-2; Amos 5:18; 8:9.

[ix] Milton Vincent, A Gospel Primer (Bemidji: Focus, 2008), 47-48.

[x] Morris, Apostolic Preaching, 11-64.