Held In His Arms
Sermon
From This Day Forward
First Lesson Sermons For Lent/Easter
Years ago, there was a very wealthy man who, with his devoted young son, shared a passion for collecting art. Together they traveled around the world, adding only the finest art treasures to their collection. Priceless works by Picasso, Van Gogh, Monet, and many others adorned the walls of the family estate. The widowed elderly man looked on with satisfaction as his only child became an experienced art collector. The son's trained eye and sharp business mind caused his father to beam with pride as they dealt with art collectors around the world.
As winter approached, war engulfed the nation, and the young man left to serve his country. After only a few short weeks, his father received a telegram. His beloved son was missing in action. The art collector awaited more news, fearing he would never see his son again. Within days, his fears were confirmed. The young man had died while rushing a fellow soldier to a medic.
Distraught and lonely, the old man faced the upcoming holidays with anguish and sadness. The joy of the season, that he and his son had always looked forward to, would visit his house no longer.
One morning, a knock on the door awakened the depressed old man. When he opened the door, a soldier greeted him with a large package in his hands. He introduced himself to the man by saying, "I was a friend of your son. I was the one he was rescuing when he died. May I come in for a few moments? I have something to show you."
As the two began to talk, the soldier told of how the man's son had told everyone of his, not to mention his father's, love of fine art. "I am an artist," said the soldier, "and I want to give you this."
As the old man unwrapped the package, the paper gave way to reveal a portrait of the man's son. Though the world would never consider it the work of a genius, the painting featured the young man's face in stirring detail. Overcome with emotion, the man thanked the soldier, promising to hang the picture above the fireplace. A few hours later, after the soldier had departed, the old man set about his task. True to his word, the painting went above the fireplace, pushing aside thousands of dollars worth of art. The old man sat in his chair and spent the rest of the holiday gazing at the gift he had been given.
On this holy, somber Good Friday we talk about another Son who gave his life for us. (We'll finish our story later.) To understand the sacrifice he delivered to us, I ask you to do something you've never done in church before: make a muscle. That's right, I want all of you to raise your arms up and pretend you are bragging to someone about how big your muscles are. Thank you. You may put your arms down.
Children do that all the time. In front of others. In front of the mirror. "Look how big my arm is, Mom and Dad." With the stress on becoming and staying fit in today's world, big biceps are "in." "Hey, honey, look how big and strong and firm my arms are!"
How big are God's arms? What do God's arms look like?
I don't know what they look like, but I do know what they do. "Sing to the Lord a new song, for he has done marvelous things; his right hand and his holy arm have worked salvation for him" (Psalm 98:1). "You saw with your own eyes the great trials, the miraculous signs and wonders, the mighty hand and outstretched arm, with which the Lord your God brought you out" (Deuteronomy 8:17). God's arms must boast very powerful biceps!
The arm of the Lord is his power and might and vengeance. He does whatever he pleases, whenever he pleases. I want to show you how God flexed his muscles on our behalf and displayed his powerful arms in our text on this Holy Weekend.
First, the arm of the Lord formed the Son (v. 2). Jesus grew up before his Father "like a tender shoot" after God's Spirit overshadowed Mary and she began to carry Jesus in her womb. Just as God is actively involved in the formation of each embryo in the womb (and even before that in his mind), so imagine the joy God received seeing the arms and legs of his Son grow inside Mary. It is God who first gave Jesus physical arms with which to hold the children the disciples had shooed away and the arms that made the mud which he put on the blind man's eyes.
Second, the arm of the Lord struck the Son (v. 4). Though through the 33 years of his life, God was delighted to watch Jesus grow in wisdom and stature, now the power of God afflicted his Son. The powerful arm of God came down in the fists of the soldiers who struck him and in the pounding of the reed they used to force the crown of thorns into his head. It was God's outstretched arms that inflicted the 39 lashes as Jesus was tied to a pillar. God's might was used to hurt his Son so we consider "him stricken by God, smitten by him." Jesus put his arms down and refused to fight.
Third, the arm of the Lord pierced the Son (v. 5). They will look on the one they have pierced. Not exactly correct. There's no "they" about it. "He" pierced his Son with the spikes that were driven into his hands and feet and the angry spear that was thrust into his side. If you doubt it was the arm of the Lord, hear verse 10: "Yet it was the Lord's will to crush him and cause him to suffer!" God desired it. For our transgressions!
Fourth, the arm of the Lord cut off the Son (v. 8). When Jesus agonized and died on the cross, he went through literal hell. Not just the "hell" we say we endure in a tragedy, but actual Satan-controlled and damning hell. God "cut him off" because he cannot be tainted with the evil of hell and sin. Jesus was also "cut off" from those who are living. His outstretched arms went limp and he breathed no more.
Fifth, the arm of the Lord raised him up (v. 11). This is Easter on Good Friday. After suffering our death, God promised that Jesus would see the light of life again. The soldiers put a seal on the tomb and the devil had chalked up another victim, but God's power moved the stone, enlivened the dead and "exalted him to the highest place and gave him the name that is above every name." The upraised hands of Jesus signaled victory as he ascended back to his Father.
Does God still use his arms to demonstrate his power today? Yes. Usually to lift us up and place us on solid footing again. What if you fell into a pit and there was no way out by yourself. A subjective person would come along and say, "I feel for you down there." An objective person would look at you and say, "It's logical that you would fall down there." A mathematician would calculate how you fell into the pit. A news reporter would want the exclusive story on the pit. An IRS agent would ask you if you were paying taxes on your pit. Confucius would look at you and say, "A wise person would not walk so near the pit to fall in." A self-pitying person would moan, "You haven't seen anything until you've seen my pit!" A fire-and-brimstone preacher would bellow, "You deserve your pit!"
Buddha would come by and say, "Your desires make you want out. Change your desires." A Hindu would tell you, "You just think you are miserable in the pit; change your thinking." A psychologist would counsel: "Your mother and father are to blame for your being in that pit." A self-esteem therapist would say, "If you had self-esteem, you could get out of your pit." An optimist would smile and say, "Things could be worse." A pessimist would groan, "Things will get worse!"
Jesus, seeing you in the pit, reaches down, takes you by the hand and lifts you out of the pit.
He grabs you with his outstretched arm, lifts you up, and walks beside you so you never fall in the pit again. With those same arms he hugs you and says, "You are my child. I love you. With you I am well-pleased!" And when you stumble or begin to fall, Jesus whispers into your ears, "Fear not!" Because of the power shown in the arm of the Lord against Jesus, underneath you are "the everlasting arms"!
We conclude our story about the art collector father. During the days and weeks that followed his son's death, the man realized that even though his son was no longer with him, the boy's life would live on because of those he had touched. He soon learned that his son had rescued dozens of wounded soldiers before a bullet took his life.
As the stories of his son's gallantry continued to reach him, fatherly pride and satisfaction began to ease his grief. The painting of his son soon became his most prized possession, far eclipsing any interest in the pieces for which museums around the world clamored. He told his neighbors it was the greatest gift he had ever received.
The following spring, the old man became ill and died. The art world was in anticipation that with the collector's passing and his only son dead those paintings would be sold at auction.
The day soon arrived and art collectors from around the world gathered to bid on some of the world's most spectacular paintings. Dreams would be fulfilled this day; greatness would be achieved as many would hope to claim, "I have the greatest collection."
The auction began with a painting that was not on any museum's list. It was the painting of the man's son. The auctioneer asked for an opening bid, but the room was silent. "Who will open the bidding with $100?" he asked. Minutes passed, and no one spoke. From the back of the room came a voice, "Who cares about that painting? It's just a picture of his son." "Let's forget about it and move on to the good stuff," more voices echoed in agreement.
"No, we have to sell this one first," replied the auctioneer. "Now, who will take the son?" Finally a neighbor of the old man spoke. "Will you take ten dollars for the painting? That's all I have. I knew the boy so I'd like to have it."
"I have ten dollars. Will anyone go higher?" called the auctioneer. After more silence, the auctioneer said, "Going once, going twice, gone." The gavel fell. Cheers filled the room and someone exclaimed, "Now we can get on with it and bid on the real treasures!"
The auctioneer looked at the audience and announced that the auction was over. Stunned disbelief quieted the room. Someone spoke up and asked, "What do mean, it's over? We didn't come here for a picture of some old guy's son. What about all these paintings? There are millions of dollars worth of art here! I demand that you explain what is going on!"
The auctioneer replied, "It's very simple. According to the will of the father, whoever takes the son ... gets it all!"
As winter approached, war engulfed the nation, and the young man left to serve his country. After only a few short weeks, his father received a telegram. His beloved son was missing in action. The art collector awaited more news, fearing he would never see his son again. Within days, his fears were confirmed. The young man had died while rushing a fellow soldier to a medic.
Distraught and lonely, the old man faced the upcoming holidays with anguish and sadness. The joy of the season, that he and his son had always looked forward to, would visit his house no longer.
One morning, a knock on the door awakened the depressed old man. When he opened the door, a soldier greeted him with a large package in his hands. He introduced himself to the man by saying, "I was a friend of your son. I was the one he was rescuing when he died. May I come in for a few moments? I have something to show you."
As the two began to talk, the soldier told of how the man's son had told everyone of his, not to mention his father's, love of fine art. "I am an artist," said the soldier, "and I want to give you this."
As the old man unwrapped the package, the paper gave way to reveal a portrait of the man's son. Though the world would never consider it the work of a genius, the painting featured the young man's face in stirring detail. Overcome with emotion, the man thanked the soldier, promising to hang the picture above the fireplace. A few hours later, after the soldier had departed, the old man set about his task. True to his word, the painting went above the fireplace, pushing aside thousands of dollars worth of art. The old man sat in his chair and spent the rest of the holiday gazing at the gift he had been given.
On this holy, somber Good Friday we talk about another Son who gave his life for us. (We'll finish our story later.) To understand the sacrifice he delivered to us, I ask you to do something you've never done in church before: make a muscle. That's right, I want all of you to raise your arms up and pretend you are bragging to someone about how big your muscles are. Thank you. You may put your arms down.
Children do that all the time. In front of others. In front of the mirror. "Look how big my arm is, Mom and Dad." With the stress on becoming and staying fit in today's world, big biceps are "in." "Hey, honey, look how big and strong and firm my arms are!"
How big are God's arms? What do God's arms look like?
I don't know what they look like, but I do know what they do. "Sing to the Lord a new song, for he has done marvelous things; his right hand and his holy arm have worked salvation for him" (Psalm 98:1). "You saw with your own eyes the great trials, the miraculous signs and wonders, the mighty hand and outstretched arm, with which the Lord your God brought you out" (Deuteronomy 8:17). God's arms must boast very powerful biceps!
The arm of the Lord is his power and might and vengeance. He does whatever he pleases, whenever he pleases. I want to show you how God flexed his muscles on our behalf and displayed his powerful arms in our text on this Holy Weekend.
First, the arm of the Lord formed the Son (v. 2). Jesus grew up before his Father "like a tender shoot" after God's Spirit overshadowed Mary and she began to carry Jesus in her womb. Just as God is actively involved in the formation of each embryo in the womb (and even before that in his mind), so imagine the joy God received seeing the arms and legs of his Son grow inside Mary. It is God who first gave Jesus physical arms with which to hold the children the disciples had shooed away and the arms that made the mud which he put on the blind man's eyes.
Second, the arm of the Lord struck the Son (v. 4). Though through the 33 years of his life, God was delighted to watch Jesus grow in wisdom and stature, now the power of God afflicted his Son. The powerful arm of God came down in the fists of the soldiers who struck him and in the pounding of the reed they used to force the crown of thorns into his head. It was God's outstretched arms that inflicted the 39 lashes as Jesus was tied to a pillar. God's might was used to hurt his Son so we consider "him stricken by God, smitten by him." Jesus put his arms down and refused to fight.
Third, the arm of the Lord pierced the Son (v. 5). They will look on the one they have pierced. Not exactly correct. There's no "they" about it. "He" pierced his Son with the spikes that were driven into his hands and feet and the angry spear that was thrust into his side. If you doubt it was the arm of the Lord, hear verse 10: "Yet it was the Lord's will to crush him and cause him to suffer!" God desired it. For our transgressions!
Fourth, the arm of the Lord cut off the Son (v. 8). When Jesus agonized and died on the cross, he went through literal hell. Not just the "hell" we say we endure in a tragedy, but actual Satan-controlled and damning hell. God "cut him off" because he cannot be tainted with the evil of hell and sin. Jesus was also "cut off" from those who are living. His outstretched arms went limp and he breathed no more.
Fifth, the arm of the Lord raised him up (v. 11). This is Easter on Good Friday. After suffering our death, God promised that Jesus would see the light of life again. The soldiers put a seal on the tomb and the devil had chalked up another victim, but God's power moved the stone, enlivened the dead and "exalted him to the highest place and gave him the name that is above every name." The upraised hands of Jesus signaled victory as he ascended back to his Father.
Does God still use his arms to demonstrate his power today? Yes. Usually to lift us up and place us on solid footing again. What if you fell into a pit and there was no way out by yourself. A subjective person would come along and say, "I feel for you down there." An objective person would look at you and say, "It's logical that you would fall down there." A mathematician would calculate how you fell into the pit. A news reporter would want the exclusive story on the pit. An IRS agent would ask you if you were paying taxes on your pit. Confucius would look at you and say, "A wise person would not walk so near the pit to fall in." A self-pitying person would moan, "You haven't seen anything until you've seen my pit!" A fire-and-brimstone preacher would bellow, "You deserve your pit!"
Buddha would come by and say, "Your desires make you want out. Change your desires." A Hindu would tell you, "You just think you are miserable in the pit; change your thinking." A psychologist would counsel: "Your mother and father are to blame for your being in that pit." A self-esteem therapist would say, "If you had self-esteem, you could get out of your pit." An optimist would smile and say, "Things could be worse." A pessimist would groan, "Things will get worse!"
Jesus, seeing you in the pit, reaches down, takes you by the hand and lifts you out of the pit.
He grabs you with his outstretched arm, lifts you up, and walks beside you so you never fall in the pit again. With those same arms he hugs you and says, "You are my child. I love you. With you I am well-pleased!" And when you stumble or begin to fall, Jesus whispers into your ears, "Fear not!" Because of the power shown in the arm of the Lord against Jesus, underneath you are "the everlasting arms"!
We conclude our story about the art collector father. During the days and weeks that followed his son's death, the man realized that even though his son was no longer with him, the boy's life would live on because of those he had touched. He soon learned that his son had rescued dozens of wounded soldiers before a bullet took his life.
As the stories of his son's gallantry continued to reach him, fatherly pride and satisfaction began to ease his grief. The painting of his son soon became his most prized possession, far eclipsing any interest in the pieces for which museums around the world clamored. He told his neighbors it was the greatest gift he had ever received.
The following spring, the old man became ill and died. The art world was in anticipation that with the collector's passing and his only son dead those paintings would be sold at auction.
The day soon arrived and art collectors from around the world gathered to bid on some of the world's most spectacular paintings. Dreams would be fulfilled this day; greatness would be achieved as many would hope to claim, "I have the greatest collection."
The auction began with a painting that was not on any museum's list. It was the painting of the man's son. The auctioneer asked for an opening bid, but the room was silent. "Who will open the bidding with $100?" he asked. Minutes passed, and no one spoke. From the back of the room came a voice, "Who cares about that painting? It's just a picture of his son." "Let's forget about it and move on to the good stuff," more voices echoed in agreement.
"No, we have to sell this one first," replied the auctioneer. "Now, who will take the son?" Finally a neighbor of the old man spoke. "Will you take ten dollars for the painting? That's all I have. I knew the boy so I'd like to have it."
"I have ten dollars. Will anyone go higher?" called the auctioneer. After more silence, the auctioneer said, "Going once, going twice, gone." The gavel fell. Cheers filled the room and someone exclaimed, "Now we can get on with it and bid on the real treasures!"
The auctioneer looked at the audience and announced that the auction was over. Stunned disbelief quieted the room. Someone spoke up and asked, "What do mean, it's over? We didn't come here for a picture of some old guy's son. What about all these paintings? There are millions of dollars worth of art here! I demand that you explain what is going on!"
The auctioneer replied, "It's very simple. According to the will of the father, whoever takes the son ... gets it all!"
