Christ, Mediator

At approximately 1:30 a.m. on March 26, 2024, a cargo ship leaving the Port of Baltimore struck the (I-695) Francis Scott Key Bridge. This caused a devastating collapse of the bridge.

Completed in 1977, the Francis Scott Key Bridge was a practical, final link to the beltway of roads that circled Baltimore Harbor, a much-needed solution to reduce Harbor Tunnel congestion. But for so many, it was more than that. For decades blue-collar workers crossed the bridge. Teenagers celebrated new driver’s licenses by traversing it. And couples were known to get engaged near it.

For some, it symbolized the working-class communities around it—for others, the city itself. The bridge also served as a reminder of a storied chapter in history: Near Fort McHenry, the bridge is believed by historians to be within 100 yards from where Key was held by the British during the War of 1812. It was here that he witnessed the siege of the Fort in September 1814 and wrote the poem that became the national anthem.

And the Key Bridge was simply a presence in people’s everyday lives. Since the collapse, residents have been processing the loss on many levels, from profound grief for the six workers who died, to concern for the immigrant communities affected by the port’s shutdown, to a sense of emptiness that has cast a pall over their memories.

Possible Preaching Angle:

Bridges have tremendous significance. It’s the way to travel safely from one destination to another. No wonder we invest a bridge with deep meaning. As the Eternal Son of God, Jesus is the ultimate bridge, through his work on the Cross, reconciling God the Father with a sinful humanity.

On the Cross, Jesus was both our substitute and a representative. Here are two analogies to unpack what that means.

A substitute is someone who takes the place of another person but does not represent that person. For example, a pinch hitter in baseball enters the lineup to bat in the place of another player. He is a substitute for that player, but in no sense represents the other player.

On the other hand, a simple representative acts on behalf of another person, and serves as his spokesman but he’s not a substitute for that person. For example, a baseball player has an agent who represents him in contract negotiations with the team. The representative does not replace the player but merely advocates for him.

These roles can be combined. Here’s an illustration of both.

If you’re a shareholder for the company, and you can’t attend the shareholders meeting, you can sign an agreement authorizing someone else to serve as your proxy at the meeting. That person will vote for you, and because they have been authorized to do so, their votes are your votes. You have voted via proxy at the meeting of shareholders. The proxy is a substitute in that they attend the meeting in our place, but they are also a representative in that they do not vote instead of us, but on our behalf, so that we vote.

In bearing our punishment, Jesus was both our substitute and a representative before God. He was punished in our place and bore the suffering we deserved. But he also represented us before God, so that his punishment was our punishment.

David Brooks writes in The New York Times:

Rabbi Elliot Kukla once described a woman with a brain injury who would sometimes fall to the floor. People around her would rush to immediately get her back on her feet, before she was quite ready.

She told Kukla, “I think people rush to help me up because they are so uncomfortable with seeing an adult lying on the floor. But what I really need is for someone to get down on the ground with me.”

We all need someone to get down on the ground with us. This is what God has done for us in Jesus Christ.

In an issue of CT magazine singer-songwriter Sandra McCracken writes:

I visited the National Portrait Gallery recently in Washington, DC. In its elegant hallways, a wide range of well-lit paintings are displayed side by side: politicians, war heroes, athletes, musicians, presidents. It is a library of human faces—a silent, visual documentary of who we are.

In particular, I was moved by Robert McCurdy’s portrait of the late author Toni Morrison. The oil-on-canvas looks like a photograph. She reveals no discernible expression but radiates light from within. There is integrity, sorrow, and tenacity in her face. McCurdy aims for the viewer to be able to have their own personal encounter with the subject. It is a powerful experience to be face-to-face with someone you’ve never met in a piece like this one.

God has designed us for face-to-face encounters. Which is perhaps why God orchestrated the ultimate face-to-face experience in the Incarnation. God himself took on flesh, born as a baby that we would see the face of God in Jesus Christ.

1 Peter 1:8 acknowledges the mystery that, even though we have an unfulfilled longing to see the incarnate Jesus, we love him anyway: “Though you have not seen him, you love him; and even though you do not see him now, you believe in him and are filled with an inexpressible and glorious joy.”

While we can’t see Jesus today in physical form, we can know him as he is revealed in the scriptures. If I were to paint a McCurdy-style portrait of Jesus, I would use the photographic poetry of Isaiah 53. “Surely he took up our pain, and bore our suffering” (Isa. 53:4). Here we see Jesus in the eternal present and here I can imagine what Jesus looks like. Not only do his hands have scars from nail holes, but his face is etched with love and sorrow and beauty that we will one day see in glorified form, in his resurrected body.

In her book Ten Fingers for God, Dorothy Clarke Wilson writes about Dr. Paul Brand who worked with leprosy patients in India.

Sometimes they would all gather together in fellowship. One evening, Paul joined them, and they asked him to speak.

Dr. Brand had nothing prepared, yet he willingly stood up, paused for a moment and looked at their hands, some with no fingers, and some with only a few stumps. Then he spoke: "I am a hand surgeon, so when I meet people, I can't help looking at their hands. I would like to have examined Christ's hands. With the nails driven through, they must have appeared twisted and crippled. Remember, Jesus, at the end, was crippled too."

The patients, on hearing this, suddenly lifted their poor hands towards heaven. Hearing of God's response to suffering had made their suffering easier.

T.F. Torrance was one of the greatest theologians of the 20th century, but prior to that, he served as a chaplain during World War II. One day, on a battlefield in Italy, he attended to a dying nineteen-year-old soldier. The dying man asked him, “Padre, is God really like Jesus?”

For Torrance, this question captured “the deepest cry of the human heart”--is the God that we’ll meet on the other side of the death the same God that came to earth as a lowly babe?

Torrance assured the dying man with these words: “God is indeed really like Jesus. There is no unknown God behind the back of Jesus for us to fear. To see the Lord Jesus is to see the very face of God.” This experience would guide all of his future work as a minister and theologian.

Possible Preaching Angle:

(1) Torrance’s story brings comfort: God may be fierce, he may be all powerful, he may be the Judge of all the earth--but he’s also the same God revealed in the gentle face of Jesus. If the Gospels are true, we’ve got nothing to fear when we meet God. (2) Theology gets a bad rap for being impractical. But for T.F. Torrance, theology was real for people with real problems, not just academics in an Ivory Tower. Knowing what it means that Jesus reveals the Father and is one with him is one of the most important truths any of us can ever know. So important, it’ll change your life!

Meghalaya in northwest India is arguably the wettest place on earth. The mile-high mountain range boasts the world record for rain with an annual accumulation that once topped 82 feet. Staying dry, of course, is a battle, but it’s actually not the biggest challenged cause by constant rain. Over the years, the rain has turned creeks into valleys and large gorges now crisscross the rainforest floor.

Most of the rain falls during the summer monsoons. In this season, gentle creeks become raging rivers, impassible on foot. An extravagant commuter bridge system is needed to keep villages connected to one another. But normal bridge concepts are not an option. Because of the rainfall, wooden bridges would quickly collapse to erosion. Concrete and steel are not available alternatives in such a remote region. So, members of the Khasis tribe have crafted an ingenious solution.

On a riverbank, a small strangler tree is planted. Once the tree is large enough, roots are extracted from the ground. These roots are meticulously cultivated to grow to a sufficient length and coaxed across the gorge. Once on the other side, the roots are sewn into the opposing riverbank, take hold, and grow thick. Roots from other strangler trees are enticed across the gorge and interwoven into a walkway strong enough to support pedestrian traffic. Mud is fashioned into pavement and the bridge is open for business. They become living bridges, some of which have lasted for centuries. The largest, Umshiang Double Decker Root Bridge, is reported to be more than a mile long and stands at a height of 2400 feet.

As you might imagine, the growth of hundreds of roots across wide spans is a slow process. It is so slow in fact that a bridge cannot be completed in a single lifetime. The work of the project must be passed on to the next generation. Children are taught from a very young age how to care for the strangler tree and direct its growth.

Possible Preaching Angles:

1) Generations; Parenting; Children, Christian Service - Our Christian service is itself a bridge, spanning the gaps between God and man, from one generation to the next. And much like the living bridges of Meghalaya, the work we are doing cannot be completed in a single lifetime; 2) Mediator; Way; Jesus Christ – Jesus is our living bridge to the Father (1 Tim. 2:5)

Since 1939, Stan Lee created or co-created some of the world’s most popular superheroes. His super-human imagination gave birth to Black Panther, Spider-Man, the X-Men, Thor, Iron Man, the Fantastic Four, the Incredible Hulk, Daredevil, and Ant-Man, just to name a few.

Of course, the world has no shortage of storytellers, but Lee was something of a mutant in the field. The Avengers series alone has generated more than $10 billion in ticket sales at the box office since 2008. So, what set his stories apart from the rest? Lee was able to tap into deeply rooted human instincts.

He explains his secret in a 1984 interview with ET:

The whole formula … was to say: Let’s assume that somebody really could walk on walls like Spider-Man, or turn green and become a monster like The Hulk. That’s a given; we’ll accept that. But, accepting that, what would that person be like in the real world if he really existed? Wouldn’t he still have to worry about making a living? Or having acne and dandruff? Or his girlfriend jilting him? What are the real problems people would have? I think that’s what made the books popular.

We all know we need a superhero to rescue us from our enemies and from calamities. But we simultaneously want this hero to be someone with whom we can identify. There are two instincts woven into our fallen nature: the knowledge that we need someone to save us and the deep desire for another to understand our struggles. Lee was also well-known for his cameo appearances inside the stories he had written. Each film since X-Men in 2000 (until his death in 2018) has featured a brief incarnation of the author.

Possible Preaching Angle:

Stan Lee wasn’t the first to write himself into his storyline. Jesus did not simply rescue us from afar. He wrote himself into our story. He became a man and subjected himself to all the tyrannies of a fallen world.

No greater pain has ever been experienced on any level than the hell of Christ suffering in this moment. But why? Because he carried all of that pain, sin, guilt, and shame in that moment. Yet on a far deeper level he was forsaken and punished for us to reconcile us to God (2 Cor. 5:18).

Tim Keller illustrates it this way:

If after a service some Sunday morning one of the members of my church comes to me and says, "I never want to see you or talk to you again," I will feel pretty bad. But if today my wife comes up to me and says, "I never want to see you or talk to you again," that's a lot worse. The longer the love, the deeper the love, the greater the torment of its loss.

But this forsakenness, this loss, was between the Father and the Son, who had loved each other from all eternity. … Jesus, the Maker of the world, was being unmade. Why? Jesus was experiencing Judgment Day. "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?" It wasn't a rhetorical question. And the answer is: For you, for me, for us. Jesus was forsaken by God so that we would never have to be. The judgment that should have fallen on us fell instead on Jesus.

Tim Keller said:

If after a service some Sunday morning one of the members of my church comes to me and says, "I never want to see you or talk to you again," I will feel pretty bad. But if today my wife or my lifelong best friend came up to me and said, "I never want to see you or talk to you again," I would be devastated. The longer the love, the deeper the love, the greater the torment of its loss.

But the forsakenness experienced by Christ on the Cross, the relational loss, was between the Father and the Son, who had loved each other from all eternity. … Jesus was experiencing Judgment Day. "My God, by God, why have you forsaken me?" It wasn't a rhetorical question. And the answer is: For you, for me, for us. Jesus was forsaken by God so that we would never have to be. The judgment that should have fallen on us fell instead on Jesus.

Pastor Steve Brown writes:

Early in my ministry I counseled a woman who, some twenty years before, had been unfaithful to her husband. For years that sin had haunted her. I was the first person she had ever told about it. After we talked and prayed for a long time, I recommended she tell her husband. (That, by the way, isn't always the advice I give. In this case, I knew the woman's husband and knew that her revelation, after the initial shock, would probably strengthen their marriage.) It wasn't easy for her, but she promised she would tell him. "Pastor," she said, "I trust you enough to do what you ask, but if my marriage falls apart as a result, I want you to know I'm going to blame you." She didn't smile when she said that, either.

That's when I commenced to pray with a high degree of seriousness. (I pray best when I'm scared.) "Father," I prayed, "if I gave her dumb advice, forgive me and clean up my mess." I saw her the next day, and she looked fifteen years younger. "What happened?" I asked. "When I told him," she exclaimed, "he replied that he had known about the incident for twenty years and was just waiting for me to tell him so he could tell me how much he loved me!" And then she started to laugh. "He forgave me twenty years ago, and I've been needlessly carrying all this guilt for all these years!" Perhaps you are like this woman: you've already been forgiven years ago, but you don't know God's forgiveness. Instead, you've been haunted by a load of guilt for years.

Human beings have always been preoccupied with building walls. In the first century, the Roman emperor Hadrian built a 75-mile wall across Roman Britain. In the 1870s, Argentina built a line of trenches and watchtowers called the Zanja de Alsina to protect Buenos Aires from invasion by indigenous peoples. The Berlin Wall went up in 1961, dividing East from West for almost 30 years. In 1975, South Africa built a 3,500-volt electric fence dubbed the Snake of Fire to keep the civil war in Mozambique from spilling over into the frontier. In the middle of the night in August 2006, Italian officials constructed a steel wall around Via Anelli, a run-down neighborhood known for drug trafficking and prostitution.

Walls don't just divide us. They make us ill. After the Berlin Wall went up, East German psychiatrists observed that the Berlin Wall caused mental illness, rage, dejection, and addiction. The closer to the physical wall people lived, the more acute their disorders. The only cure for "Wall Disease" was to bring the Wall down. Sure enough, in 1990, psychiatrists noted the "emotional liberation" felt after November 9, 1989 when the Wall finally fell. Thousands of jubilant Germans climbed the Wall, wept, and embraced each other atop the concrete, and proceeded to tear the Wall down with joyful abandon.

Possible Preaching Angles: (1) Relationship with God—Christ has torn down the walls that stood between us and God the Father. (2) Relationships with Others—How do we build unnecessary walls that exclude others and keep people from experiencing God's grace?

In 1740 the Skitswish, a small Native American tribe in northern Idaho, had a prophet/chief named Circling Raven of whom it was said he could communicate with crows and ravens. On Solstice Day of 1740, Crow and Raven told the chief that in a land far away, the Creator, who also became the Savior of the world, had been born as a man on that night long, long ago. Circling Raven told his people they should celebrate this savior's birthday by giving extra sweets and gifts to the children. He also said that the Skitwish should not fight with each other or even with their enemies during the period before and after this day.

In addition, Raven told him that within 100 years men clothed in black robes would arrive with more news about the Creator's son and the world's savior. For the rest of his life, Circling Raven searched for the Black Robes. He died never having found them. His son, Twisted Earth, became chief and continued waiting for the Black Robes. He "sang the joyous song of the prophecy and continued the solstice celebration as his father had instructed."

In June of 1862, a group of Jesuit brothers arrived in their area, and Twisted Earth greeted them with joy and sorrow, tears streaming down his face. He was happy that the Black Robes had finally arrived to tell the rest of the story about Jesus, but he was saddened that his father had not lived to see the prophecy fulfilled.

The Message Bible translates John 1:14 to read that "the Word became flesh and blood and moved into the neighborhood." Here's how Phillip Yancey describes the type of "neighborhood" Jesus moved into:

A succession of great empires tramped through the territory of Israel as if wiping their feet on the vaunted promised land. After the Assyrians and Babylonians came the Persians, who were in turn defeated by Alexander the Great. He was eventually followed by Antiochus IV Epiphanes, the Jews' worst villain until Hitler. Antiochus began waging war against the Jewish religion. He transformed the temple of God into a worship center for Zeus and proclaimed himself God incarnate. He forced young boys to undergo reverse circumcision operations and flogged an aged priest to death for refusing to eat pork. In one of his most notorious acts he sacrificed an unclean pig on the altar in the Most Holy Place, smearing its blood around the temple sanctuary.

Antiochus's actions so incensed the Jews that they rose up in an armed revolt that's celebrated every year as the holiday Hanukkah. But their victory was short-lived. Before long, Roman legions marched into Palestine to quash the rebellion and appointed Herod, their "King of the Jews." After the Roman conquest, nearly the entire land lay in ruins. Herod was sickly and approaching seventy when he heard rumors of a new king born in Bethlehem, and soon howls of grief from the families of slain infants drowned out the angels' chorus of "Glory to God … and on earth peace." First-century Israel was a conquered, cowed nation. This, then, was the neighborhood Jesus moved into: a sinister place with a somber past and a fearful future.

In 1970, while Bob Russell (not the same Bob Russell who served as minister of Southeast Christian Church in Louisville) was a graduate student at Temple University in Philadelphia, his 1967 Austin Healey sports car was stolen. Over the years, Russell kept the original title to the car and the keys, and he memorized the vehicle identification number.

During a sleepless night on May 11, 2012, Russell got out of bed and began surfing the internet. While browsing eBay, he saw his old car for sale. After contacting the seller, getting a copy of the old police report through the National Crime Information Center, securing the assistance of the Philadelphia Police Department, and haggling with the seller over the buy-back price, Bob Russell and his wife Cynthia (who had gone on their first dates together in that car over forty years earlier), flew to California and took back ownership of the car on June 18, 2012.

Though the VIN plate had been removed, and the glove box lock had been broken, and the lock to the trunk was missing, he was delighted to get his car back. Russell commented, "When it was stolen it was pristine; now it's going to need a lot of work. On the other hand, it's been more than 40 years. It's very gratifying to get it back."

Possible Preaching Angle: If Bob Russell could have been so devoted to a car, even keeping the title and keys and memorizing the VIN number, how much more can we be certain that Jesus is devoted to seeking and saving the lost.

The movie Armageddon focuses on a burly oil-mining veteran by the name of Harry Stamper, played by actor Bruce Willis. Stamper has been called upon to take part in a last-ditch mission to save the human race from a massive asteroid on an unstoppable collision course with planet Earth. Landing a space shuttle on the surface of the deadly rock, Harry and his compatriots drill a hole deep into the asteroid's core and drop into it a nuclear bomb that might just split the asteroid in two and makes its halves miss the Earth.

At the climactic moment when the charge has been set and the shuttle is about to lift off the asteroid, something goes terribly wrong, and it becomes clear that someone will have to stay behind and manually detonate the bomb. Without hesitation Harry Stamper chooses that job. In the final minutes, Harry speaks by videophone to the command center in Houston and says his last words to his daughter, Grace, played by actress Liv Tyler. With tears streaming down her cheeks, the daughter burbles to her dad: "Everything good I have inside of me I have from you. I love you so much. I am so proud of you. And I'm so scared." "There won't be anything to be scared of soon," Harry assures her. "I'll look in on you … I love you, Grace."

Moments later, Harry kneels on the surface of the asteroid as it violently shakes with volcanic eruptions. Struggling to maintain hold of the detonator, he watches the shuttle safely escape. Then Harry stares … the beautiful blue planet rotating quietly in space. A gentle smile creases his rugged face as he whispers, "We win, Gracie," and then presses the detonator.

Suddenly the screen fills with a racing stream of images as seen through the love of this father's eyes. We see back in time to a sunny day when Harry is pushing his laughing little girl on a backyard swing set. We're treated to a blur of images reflecting the glorious and grainy moments of miraculous human life. We see a moment out in the future when Gracie will be dressed as a radiant bride on her wedding day. And then the asteroid erupts in a blinding explosion, fractures in two, and careens clear of our planet, as the saved of the Earth explode in wild cheers.

The Bible teaches that God saw the consequences of sin and evil hurtling at human life like an unstoppable force. Unlike the main character in the Hollywood movie, God himself would not have been destroyed if he did nothing. Unlike the Hollywood tale, this destruction was actually the just deserts of a planet that had forsaken its Creator. But at a level infinitely larger than the love of Harry Stamper for his daughter, God the Father and God the Son looked with compassion at the children of this Earth and chose to intervene in a way that required a cataclysmic self-sacrifice.