John 12:23–25
How can I ever get over Jesus? I still see him from far off, ever near, always before me, glorious glory as of the only begotten, full of grace, full of truth (John 1:14). Or rather, long did he wait, watching for me to come home from the strange country where I exiled myself (Luke 15:11–32).
I still don’t know how to get over all this glory or if it is wise to try. The doxa afterglow is leading me home. He is clothed in splendor, wrapped in death so as to raise us up and never be alone. His life seemed a flash in the pan. The limp in the hip, how I’ll never forget (Gen. 32:22–32).
God died for me to reap a harvest of resurrection.
“The Pharisees said to one another, ‘See, this is getting us nowhere. Look how the whole world has gone after him!’” (John 12:19).
Would that it were true.
Consider Jesus, the author of Hebrews encourages us. See him, who has endured such hostility by sinners against himself, so that you will not grow weary and lose heart (Heb. 12:3).
Some Greeks asked to see Jesus, and his only reply was about death and life and the meaning of everything (John 12:20–22). How he is a kernel of wheat falling all the way into the earth to die.
Unless. But.
Unless a kernel of wheat falls to the earth and dies. But if it dies …
The whole world hangs on to an if.
How can there be joy from all this death? A kernel of wheat must fall to the earth and die if there is to be a harvest. You, Lord, are a grain of wheat crushed to become the bread of life, and we are partakers of the bread of heaven, partakers who shall hunger no more (John 6:35).
He shall lose none of us whom the Father has given him but raise us up on the last day. This is the will of the Father (John 6:39–40).
I have presided over 125 funerals. I saw my first wife die of cancer. Death is the stifling, smothering, mildewing darkness stalking and plaguing us all. Don’t let anybody tell you any different. Don’t let anybody try to sell you some saccharine bill of goods as if death doesn’t matter and is of no concern. Death is the last enemy (1 Cor. 15:25–26). It is the thief of Christ’s glory that comes only to steal, kill, and destroy (John 10:10). Jesus took on death. In our place he stood condemned. John 12 says he is a grain of wheat falling down into the earth. I wonder if it was dark there, in the land of death, in the heart of the earth. Were those three days long? How weary and lonesome love must be. Have any of us dared to love as you have loved?
If I ascend to heaven, You are there;
If I make my bed in Sheol, behold, You are there.
If I take up the wings of the dawn,
If I dwell in the remotest part of the sea, Even there Your hand will lead me,
And Your right hand will take hold of me.
If I say, “Surely the darkness will overwhelm me,
And the light around me will be night,”
Even darkness is not dark to You,
And the night is as bright as the day.
Darkness and light are alike to You.
(Psalm 139:8–12, NASB)
Lord Jesus, as you contemplated falling into the earth to die, did you consider that even in that shadow land, the dark would not be dark if the Father walks with us through the valley of the shadow of death? The darkness of death deterred you not. The glory of laying your life down has lightened the world.
Evan Welcher is a pastor of Grace Baptist Church, Vermillion, South Dakota, and the author of Advent: A Thread in the Night, Nightscapes: Poetry from the Depths, and Resplendent Bride: Essays on Love & Loss.
