Street Meeting Twentieth

To desire Christ is, in truth, the highest petition a soul can ever ask before the throne of heaven. Yet we must beware the prevailing delusion of the flesh, which seeks to sever the glories of Christ in heaven from the cross of Christ on earth. As fallen and selfish creatures, we naturally incline toward a path that offers the greatest reward at the least cost. The world is full of those who would grasp at wealth without labor, a comfort without any effort, and an indulgence of lust without the weight of its consequence. In the same manner, many seek a faith that requires no work, a Christianity that demands no suffering, a fulfillment without obedience, a cleansing without mortification, a forgiveness of sin without a forsaking of sin, a drawing near to God without a separation from the world, a living without dying, and—in the ultimate vanity—a crown that requires no cross.

To follow the Master is to walk the narrow and bloody road He trod; it is to find that the height of our future exaltation is forever measured by the depth of our present surrender. We cannot have the light of His countenance without the shadow of His sacrifice, for the path to glory leads through the garden of Gethsemane all the way to the hill of Golgotha.

The Lord Jesus had just gathered His followers to Himself to reveal the dark path that lay ahead. With divine clarity, He narrated His coming Passion: how He must be betrayed into the hands of those who hated Him, how He would be condemned by them, and how He would endure the mocking, the scourge, and finally be crucified shamefully. The words of the Savior were heavy, carrying the profound solemnity of a friend who bares his very heart before the hour of his departure. He spoke not of difficult doctrines, but of the coming death. If only they would have asked, 'What death, O Lord?', He would have told them of the thorns that would pierce His head, the scourge that will tear apart His flesh, and the final, lonely surrender of being left utterly to Himself, dying in shame before the eyes of men. It was a moment of transparent humanity and divine duty. Yet, as He stood on the threshold of the grave, His words seemed to pass entirely over the heads of His disciples, vanishing into the air as if they had never been uttered. 

While the Master was bracing for the cross, the servants were preoccupied with the spoils of victory. In the very moment that the Son of Man was stripping Himself of all earthly dignity to become a ransom for many, His followers were fighting over the seat of honor. 'Grant that we may sit, one on Your right hand and the other on Your left, in Your glory.' They saw His kingdom as a means to their own exaltation. It is a sobering reflection of our own nature: how often we stand in the presence of a bleeding Savior, only to ask for a Christianity that costs us nothing and a glory that requires no sacrifice.

There is a particular gruesomeness in the heart that anticipates the eager acceptance of the prize that Christ purchased with His own torn flesh, provided it costs us no more than a casual glance. It is a cold and calculated ignorance. We stand by the wayside, watching with a pretentious piety as the Lord of Glory strains beneath the weight of His cross. We offer our tears and our solemn hymns; we speak in hushed tones of the glories of Christ. Yet, in the very moment that we behold His agony, we quietly and carefully lay our own crosses down and dust off our shoulders. We desire the inheritance of the saints in light while standing under the shade, lest the heat of the midday sun burn our well-oiled skins. "Let the Savior endure everything to buy our peace I want no share but the prize." 

To stand in the presence of a friend who is baring His soul—revealing the stripes, the thorns, and the bitter cup—and to respond only with a petition for our own comfort, is a betrayal of the deepest kind. It is the spirit of the world dressed in the garments of the sanctuary. We would be 'heirs' without being 'witnesses'; we would be 'kings' without being 'servants.' Yet Scripture stands as a quiet and steady rebuke: every mercy we enjoy was bought with a groan, and every hope we cherish was fashioned in the furnace of His sacrifice.

If there is a time that reveals our own spiritual poverty, it is when we stand in the very shadow of the Cross and ask the Lord for things that cost us nothing. We desire the seat of the favored, but we shrink from the cup of the crucified. We wish for eternal life not at the end of the narrow road, but of the broad and wide road. We pray for the salvation of the lost, without the participation of those found. 

We must through much tribulation enter into the kingdom of God.
Acts 14:22

When the Lord Jesus, in His mercy, looked upon the shallow ambition of His followers, He did not meet them with a cold rebuke, but with a piercing question: 'Are ye able to drink from the cup I am about to drink out of, and be baptized with the baptism I am about to be baptized with?' It was a question that should have made them think; it was a glimpse into the furnace of the passion. Yet, with a confidence that can only be born of a complete ignorance, they replied, 'We are able.' They claimed a strength they did not possess to endure a suffering they did not understand. The Lord’s reply was a solemn 'Indeed you will.' He knew they would follow Him into the shadows, yet He remained steadfast in His own mission: 'I am not sent to secure anyone's exaltation, not to be served but to serve, to give my life as a ransom for many.' (Matthew 20:28)

Why is it that we consistently miss the heart of this mystery? It is because our humanity is centered only upon our own preservation and the pursuit of a pleasurable experience. We treat the Gospel as a servant to our own comfort, rather than a summons to our own death. We would be 'able' for the throne, but we are utterly 'unable' for the agony before a grave so certain—unless the Spirit of God should break the shell of our self-love and lead us into the truth of the crucified life, we remain knowing not what we ask of the Lord. To share in His glory is to share in His humiliation and suffering. We are to bear crosses, before we wear our crowns. The glorification end, is through the sanctification means. (2 Corinthians 4:17)

But he shall receive an hundredfold now in this time, houses, and brethren, and sisters, and mothers, and children, and lands, with persecutions; and in the world to come eternal life.
Mark 10:30