April 13, 2025

On the Road to Calvary: Jesus, the Way, the Truth, and the Life

Here’s an idea: what if we put an ad in the paper inviting people to be part of Christ’s church – I mean, the way Jesus envisioned it? I can see it now: “Come join our movement. Here’s your chance to reject your parents, turn your back on your wife and children, hate life, and give up everything you own! And all for the priceless opportunity to be rejected, despised, and crucified, just like Jesus!” Can you imagine it? Folks would be beating down our doors – “not!”

Jesus said a lot of things that we would be unlikely to put on a sign out in front of the church building. But if we’re reluctant to simply “tell it like it is,” we certainly have plenty of company. Can you imagine a presidential candidate whose strategy it was to tell the truth? “Vote for me, folks, not because I can turn the economy around; truth is, a president doesn’t really have much to do with what happens to the economy. And I’ll put forward some legislative initiatives (like health care and limiting “earmarks” and immigration reform), but we all know that very few of them will make their way through congress. I’d like to tell you that I can protect you from random violence, but all the armies in the world aren’t going to stop a determined killer. I’m not a perfect human being; I’ve done some things in my life that I’m not proud of. But vote for me, and I’ll do my best, even though, in the end, a lot of you aren’t going to be very happy with it.

Or, how about an ad campaign for a car: “Buy one of these new Ford Tornados. It doesn’t get anywhere near the gas mileage we’re capable of producing, but then, no other car does either. This car won’t make you more sexy – it won’t get you dates, or make everyone stop and stare when you go by. In fact, most folks will hardly notice you, because you’ll just be one more car on the road. And, after a few years, this nice shiny finish will be full of pits and dings, and you may have even put a crease in the fender. You’re also going to have things go wrong – the struts will give out, and the electronic ignition is likely to get out of whack. But, it will get you from point A to point B most of the time. And, hey, isn’t that what you really need from a car?”

Nobody runs ads like these. I wonder why? Truth is, I have a hard time being totally honest myself – even with myself. Sunday after Sunday I stand before you sharing the words of Jesus. And I soft-pedal, I sugar-coat, I equivocate. I don’t want to make you mad. I don’t want to discourage, disappoint, or upset you. But I do it not just for your sake; I do it for mine. The gospel scares me to death.

I’d rather have a different gospel than the one we have. I’d like to have one that says, “If you get a flat tire, just ask Jesus and he’ll send someone by to fix it for you. If you want to hit a home run, just point your finger to the sky before you step up to the plate and God will make it happen.” I’d rather have a gospel that says, “You have a very good head on your shoulders and you know what it means to care about the right things, so whatever you think is right, don’t worry, you’re on the right track.” I’d rather have a gospel that says, “If you just pray, and smile, and live a moral and righteous life, you’ll be better than everyone else, and the Lord will smile on you.” I’d rather not have the cross sitting on the communion table, because it keeps reminding me of the high cost of discipleship, and distracting me from the benefits of the “power of positive thinking.”

Instead, I’m stuck with a Jesus who says that if you want to follow him, you’d better first sit down and count the cost, because it could demand everything of you – even the things you hold most dear. Instead of a Jesus who meets all my needs, I’ve got a Jesus who gives me needs I didn’t even know I had. Instead of a gospel that confirms everything I already believe and vindicates me in my biases and assumptions, I have one that constantly challenges me to expand my thinking and see things from other people’s perspectives.

If there was one thing that demonstrated Jesus’ divinity, it was his capacity for telling truth. You see, for you and me, for presidential candidates, and for auto makers, what matters most is getting people to like us, getting people to follow, getting votes, getting members, getting sales. For Jesus, all that matters is truth. He said, “I am the way, the truth, and the life.” His is not the way that most people choose, his is not the half-truth that sells, his is not the “good life” that we all buy lottery tickets hoping to find.

You and I don’t choose Jesus because his truth is enticing and inviting; he chooses us. And once his truth gets inside you, there’s no escaping it.

There are a lot of churches these days selling a very happy gospel. It’s a gospel all about being nice, and feeling good, and having your needs met. It’s all about smiling, and raising your hands in the air, and saying, “Praise Jesus!” But if you really read the gospels, you don’t find any of those things in there. You find a summons to let go of your own needs, and serve others. You find a call to take up your cross and sacrifice yourself. You find an appeal to follow after a Christ who will lead you through trials, and test you.

This is not to say that there is no value in things like happiness and beauty and pleasure. It’s simply that the pursuit of these things is not the heart of the matter. There is a joy far deeper than mere happiness. There is a fulfillment far greater than simple pleasure. That’s the truth that Jesus brings us. He says that the life he offers is “abundant” life. And, yes, part of that abundance is found in simple pleasures. But the deeper reality is that, even though it’s not always fun or even satisfying, life can be deep, and full of meaning and worth and power. He says you will “know the truth, and the truth shall make you free.” I take that to mean that, though it may not be a popular path to take through life, it will be an honest one, and in that honesty you will be released from legions of lies that would otherwise enslave you.

I’ll tell you what I truly believe. I believe that if you and I ever got smart enough to know what we really wanted – what our souls wanted, not our minds and bodies – we’d be clamoring for the gospel – the honest, unpopular, demanding, uncomfortable gospel of Jesus.

Frederick Buechner tells the story of a man he knew who used to keep sheep in the town of Rupert, where he lived. He said, “Some of them he gave names to, and some of the them he didn’t, but he knew them equally well either way. If one of them got lost, he didn’t have a moment’s peace until he found it again. If one of them got sick or hurt, he would move heaven and earth to get it well again. He would feed them out of a bottle when they were newborn lambs if for some reason the mother wasn’t around or wouldn’t ‘own’ them, as he put it. He always called them at the end of the day so the wild dogs wouldn’t get them.” Buechner says, “I’ve seen him wade through snow up to his knees with a bail of hay in each hand to feed them on bitter cold winter evenings, shaking it out and putting it in the manger. I’ve stood with him in their shed with a forty watt bulb hanging down from the low ceiling to light up their timid, greedy, foolish, half holy faces as they pushed and butted each other to get at it. If God is like a shepherd, there are more than just a few ways, needless to say, that people like you and me are like sheep. Being timid, greedy, foolish, and half holy is only part of it.

“Like sheep we get hungry,” Buechner continues, “and hungry for more than just food. We get thirsty for more than just drink. Our souls get hungry and thirsty; in fact, it is often that sense of inner emptiness that makes us know we have souls in the first place. There is nothing that the world has to give us, there is nothing that we have to give each other even, that ever quite fills them.”

Folks, Buechner was right. There’s a hunger deeper than our yen for a BMW and a winning argument. There’s a thirst greater than our unquenchable desire for happiness and distraction. Your soul is hungry for truth – to know truth, to hear truth, to tell truth. And if our church amounts to anything it is to the degree that your soul’s hunger is fed here.

In a very real sense, that’s what Palm Sunday is all about. Jesus rode into town, not like the Presidential candidate who rides in a self-important precession of limousines, but on a donkey. He came willingly and with grave determination into Jerusalem, the heart of the civil and religious establishment that was bent on destroying him, to speak truth to power and suffer the inevitable consequences. When his disciples wanted to join with the crowds in joyously proclaiming him the Messiah, he told them that what was in store for him was a cross, and if they wanted to follow, they were to take up crosses as well. He made it clear that the only way to change the world was to change the very order of things, and make personal self-sacrifice the highest rule.

That’s the gospel truth. It’s the message that doesn’t bring crowds trying to beat down the door to get into the church; it disappoints an disturbs most of us. But if you’re going to build something that abides – like a new kind of world – it will take a movement that runs counter to the culture, and counter even to human nature. And for that, you will pay a price. So, if you want to sign on, sit down first and count the cost.

The ultimate truth of the gospel is this: that no matter how difficult the journey, no matter what trials we are called to undergo, we are never, ever alone. Each and every one of us, like the sheep under the care of a good shepherd, is held and sustained by the hand of the Lord. And that love will not fail us.

We may not soon have anyone running for the presidency who just tells us the truth and lets the chips fall where they may; we may not ever see real “truth in advertizing;” but I’ll make this promise to you today. To the best of my meager ability, I’m going to strive to not run away from the gospel, even though it scares me. I’m going to try to discern Divine truth, and simply tell it, and I’m going to challenge you to do the same.

To tell the truth, it’s all we’ve got.