“That the World Might Be Saved through Him”

John 3:14-21; Numbers 21:4-9

Fourth Sunday in Lent

Numbers 21:4-9

{4} From Mount Hor they set out by the way to the Red Sea, to go around the land of Edom; but the people became impatient on the way. {5} The people spoke against God and against Moses, “Why have you brought us up out of Egypt to die in the wilderness? For there is no food and no water, and we detest this miserable food.”

{6} Then the LORD sent poisonous serpents among the people, and they bit the people, so that many Israelites died.

{7} The people came to Moses and said, “We have sinned by speaking against the LORD and against you; pray to the LORD to take away the serpents from us.”

So Moses prayed for the people. {8} And the LORD said to Moses, “Make a poisonous serpent, and set it on a pole; and everyone who is bitten shall look at it and live.”

{9} So Moses made a serpent of bronze, and put it upon a pole; and whenever a serpent bit someone, that person would look at the serpent of bronze and live.

John 3:14-21

[Jesus said his disciples,] “And just as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, so must the Son of Man be lifted up, {15} that whoever believes in him may have eternal life.

{16} “For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life.

{17} “Indeed, God did not send the Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through him. {18} Those who believe in him are not condemned; but those who do not believe are condemned already, because they have not believed in the name of the only Son of God. {19} And this is the judgment, that the light has come into the world, and people loved darkness rather than light because their deeds were evil. {20} For all who do evil hate the light and do not come to the light, so that their deeds may not be exposed. {21} But those who do what is true come to the light, so that it may be clearly seen that their deeds have been done in God.”

The Sermon

When, having been freed by God from our bondage, we thought it was taking too long to get where we wanted to go, we complained about it. Once we were free, we were free to whine; and once we’d been free for a long time without instant gratification, we were free to forget—to forget what it was like before, to forget what God had done for us.

So we complained, and, so the story goes, God sent serpents, which bit many of us, and pretty soon we figured out, maybe if we had complaints about how God is leading us, we might ought to try some other approach than what we’d been doing.

We went to Moses; Moses went to God, and God gave the following instruction: “Make a poisonous serpent, and set it on a pole; and everyone who is bitten shall look at it and live.”

I am sure there is a lot to be considered concerning whether this Old Testament story means that the snakes that bite us are sent from God as punishment for our propensity toward complaining.

But I am also sure that we look up at the cross from a thousand different perspectives, not just when we’re feeling snake bitten.

In World War II, during the Battle of Britain, Hitler sent squadrons to bomb London without mercy. The air raid sirens would go off, and people would take shelter, and the bombs would fall so hard and so copiously and so fast that—as in Berlin under the equally brutal Allied bombardment—sometimes buildings would just go up in flames, not because they were hit, but because the explosions were so intense that they ignited the oxygen in the air.

There are aerial photographs from that calamitous time in London’s history of the city, buried under the destruction and covered in smoke, but with the gigantic dome of St. Paul’s Cathedral, towering above the devastation, standing among the clouds like a lighthouse in the storm.

Along with Churchill’s voice on the radio, that vision, of an unbowed St. Paul’s Cathedral, was just enough to give hope to the huddling masses.

The patient in the hospital, the soldier in the field, the lonely student a thousand miles from home, the foreign missionary who lives among those she serves and likewise manages without electricity, without blackberry, without Facebook, without cell phone…

They carry with them photographs—in locket necklaces, in back pockets, tucked into journals, folded into books. Somebody back home is waiting for them, counting on them, praying for them; and just to be able to look at that face, every once in a while, gives the patient, the soldier, the student, the missionary, enough hope to make it through another day.

People hand in hand, sang Stevie Wonder,
Have I lived to see the milk and honey land?
Where hate’s a dream and love forever stands—
Or is this a vision in my mind?

Even the blind can see a sign of hope when they need it.

Moses made a serpent of bronze, and put it upon a pole; and whenever a serpent bit someone, that person would look at the serpent of bronze and live.

“And just as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness,” said Jesus, “so must the Son of Man be lifted up, that whoever believes in him may have eternal life”—which is interesting, since at this point in the story he is alive and well, and has many more teachings and healings and miracles left to give.

At this point in John’s story, there has been no sign of the cross, so here is a case of foreshadowing: that the very one who speaks is the one who will be lifted up like the bronze serpent on a pole, and those who look upon him will live.

There are some passages in the gospels that speak so resonantly, and provide such rich imagery, that even those who don’t believe may still pause for a moment to internalize the message. They may, for just a second, consider that there is something greater than themselves, more kind, benevolent and loving than they had previously suspected could exist in this cold universe; something eternal, something beyond the realm of human understanding but not entirely removed from our ability to relate.

I wonder if this is one of those passages; I kind of doubt it.

Jesus said, “For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life.”

But I can imagine there are many, and they are not necessarily out of their minds, who look up at the cross and see only a historically corrupt, fractured and violent Church; they hear only the voices of irrationality and anti-intellectualism; they sense only condescending patriarchy; hypocritical, money-grubbing leaders; the worst kinds of fanatical blindness and moronic dogmatism.

They’re not wrong that those things exist. But either they’re looking at something and not seeing it, or they’re not seeing what they’re looking at.

They see a symbol of a flawed Church. But the man on the cross is not a symbol.

The cross is a sacrifice, and those who can see through the hazy light will recognize that the cross is not our victory sign; it’s God’s last, greatest beacon of hope. “I want you to live!”

God did not send the Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved. We could condemn ourselves just fine; we don’t even need God to do that.

And this is the judgment: that the light has come into the world, and people loved darkness rather than light, because their deeds were evil. For all who do evil hate the light and do not come to the light, so that their deeds may not be exposed.

But Jesus came into the world not to condemn the world, but in order that it might be saved—that we might be saved—through him.

There is still a chance. There is still, by the grace of God, hope.