How Far Can Christ Reach?

John 12:20-33

Lent 5

March 18, 2018

William G. Carter

Now among those who went up to worship at the festival were some Greeks. They came to Philip, who was from Bethsaida in Galilee, and said to him, “Sir, we wish to see Jesus.” Philip went and told Andrew; then Andrew and Philip went and told Jesus. Jesus answered them, “The hour has come for the Son of Man to be glorified. Very truly, I tell you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains just a single grain; but if it dies, it bears much fruit. Those who love their life lose it, and those who hate their life in this world will keep it for eternal life. Whoever serves me must follow me, and where I am, there will my servant be also. Whoever serves me, the Father will honor.

“Now my soul is troubled. And what should I say - ‘Father, save me from this hour’? No, it is for this reason that I have come to this hour. Father, glorify your name.” Then a voice came from heaven, “I have glorified it, and I will glorify it again.” The crowd standing there heard it and said that it was thunder. Others said, “An angel has spoken to him.” Jesus answered, “This voice has come for your sake, not for mine. Now is the judgment of this world; now the ruler of this world will be driven out. And I, when I am lifted up from the earth, will draw all people to myself.” He said this to indicate the kind of death he was to die.

We continue the road to the cross. That is our journey for the season of Lent. The scripture texts that have accompanied us remind us it is an unusual journey. The world regards the cross as foolish and weak, but we say it’s the power and wisdom of God. Somehow in the capital execution of a first-century Jewish peasant, sin is cancelled. The gulf between heaven and earth is bridged.

Today we have one more unusual word, this time from the mouth of Jesus himself: “When I am lifted up from the earth, I will draw all people to myself.” And the writer makes sure we understand what he is saying, “He said this to indicate the kind of death he was to die.”

John understands the cross in light of the resurrection and ascension. Good Friday and Easter are one long weekend, and all of it marks the journey by which Jesus returns to heaven. Jesus comes down from the Father, speaking the truth and doing many signs. The cross is how he begins his return. He is “lifted up,” says John – lifted up on the cross, lifted up from the grave, lifted up into heaven. This is the way that this Gospel writer talks. He speaks of the cross as Jesus’ “glory,” at a time he calls his “hour.”

And most curious is this: the cross will draw all people to Jesus. Not a selected few, but all people. Not only the obvious ones, the ones who trust and believe and say the right words, but “all people.”

John Calvin, the closest thing we have to a Presbyterian founder, says Jesus got it wrong. Or at least, that the Jesus who spoke to us last week in chapter 3 is at odds with the Jesus who speaks today in chapter 12. You see, Calvin is stuck on the phrase “whosoever believes in me shall not perish but have eternal life” (3:16), and true enough, that’s in the book.

But here Jesus says, “all people.” And it really does say “all people.”

The context is a rare moment in Jerusalem when some Greeks are drawn to Jesus. It is Passover week. Jesus has just dismounted his Palm Sunday donkey. Some strangers went to Philip, Philip went to Andrew, and the two of them went to Jesus. They said, “Some Greeks are looking for you.” We don’t know who they are. Were they Jews from out of town who spoke the Greek language? Were they Gentiles from somewhere else who wondered what the fuss was about? We don’t know.

We do know that by the time this story got written down, around 90 AD, John’s church was full of all kinds of people who were drawn to the Christ. Tradition puts John in the Turkish city of Ephesus, a major center for Jews and Gentiles, Turks and Greeks, centurions and slaves, business owners and single parents, widows and refugees – and it’s a good bet a smattering of them all were in John’s church.

Perhaps he saw in the diversity of his congregation a sign of what God wants for the world: a church that draws all kinds of people. Imagine that! As Jesus said, “When I am lifted up, I will draw all people to myself.”

In the Gospel of John, Jesus has said this kind of thing before. In chapter 10, the Good Shepherd says, “I have other sheep that do not belong to this fold. I must bring them also, and they will listen to my voice. So there will be one flock, one shepherd” (John 10:16).

Again, he doesn’t declare who those outsiders are. Maybe they are Greeks, maybe they are Jews, maybe they are somebody else. The Gospel of John keeps this open, so must we. We cannot restrict what Jesus himself does not specify.

Seven years ago, a Christian preacher named Rob Bell wrote a Christian book that made a lot of Christian people angry. In fact, the book was so controversial it made the cover story on Time magazine. Bell’s book is called Love Wins. The title is the point of the book, that the love of God is powerful that will win over everything. That’s a pleasant and hopeful thought, and you might even encounter it when you read the Bible.

But it set off a firestorm, especially among those who were so sure they were going to get into heaven and others were not. In fact, they knew who those others were; they had lists of other religions, other beliefs, other behaviors that they were certain would exclude those people from the glory that they themselves were entitled to receive. It became a tempest in a little Christian teapot.

All Rob Bell said is, “God can forgive anybody or anything,” and that’s what set off the righteous indignation. Furious articles were published in Christianity Today. Counter arguments were printed in red ink. Bell was denounced as a heretic. His publishing company was protested. His speaking engagements were cancelled. Even the enormous church he served in western Michigan lost three thousand members, and he was pressured to step down -- all because he said, “love wins.”[1]  

He was asked a hundred times, “But aren’t all those other people going to hell?” And his answer: “That decision is above my pay grade. God is the only One who can judge, and the God I know in Jesus Christ is a God of mercy, forgiveness, and steadfast love.”

It raises the question that is the sermon title: how far can Christ reach? With his arms outstretched on the cross, how far can he reach? Jesus says, “When I am lifted up, I will draw all people to myself.”

Take note it is Jesus who is lifted up. It is Jesus who is central. It is Jesus who draws all the people, and Jesus through whom all people will pass. “No one is going to come to the Father,” he says, “unless they pass through me” (14:6). That’s not exclusive, but inclusive. He is the tunnel, he is the conduit. Or as he says in chapter ten, he is “the gate” (10:9) through which all the varied flocks will pass. They don’t pass through the Presbyterian gate, or the Baptist gate, or the Catholic gate – they pass through Jesus.

In fact, lambs in another flock may have lived their entire lives as Buddhists, Hindus, or none of the above. That may be all they know. Perhaps their only exposure to Christians is the hateful and divisive words they have heard some Christians speak on the evening news. And when they pass through, they discover Jesus is so much more gracious than some of the people who claim to represent him. 

Or there might be in lambs in another flock, and these would be the people who burned out on the church. Maybe they tried it years ago and it sputtered out of fuel. Or they prayed for help and life didn’t immediately improve. Or they got stuck in a committee meeting and couldn’t get out. Or they grew beyond a third grade Sunday School faith and nobody wanted to hear their questions, doubts, or fears.

Maybe they felt excluded by the rest of the mob, wanted to be accepted, and everywhere they turned, the door was locked. Imagine the outcasts and the lost sheep being drawn to Jesus, to the real Jesus – not the dashboard Jesus or a cartoon caricature, but to the One who says at the end of our chapter, “I came not to judge the world but to save the world” (12:47). Imagine a love that deep, a mercy that wide!

I like a line from the Second Vatican Council: “Since Christ died for all, we ought to believe that the Holy Spirit in a manner known only to God offers to every [person] the possibility of being associated with this paschal mystery.”[2]  

In the language of the Gospel of John, I believe this is what it means when he says, “I will draw all people to myself.” The Gospel promise is all will come to him, and Christ is free to do with them as he wishes. All will pass through him. That is what is inevitable for every one of us.

Our deepest hope is in the words of a favorite Christmas carol, originally written for children: “And our eyes at last shall see Him / through His own redeeming love / for that Child so dear and gentle / is our Lord in heaven above.”[3]

So, let’s not miss it. Let’s never be so high and mighty that we miss it. Those whose “eyes at last shall see Him,” shall see Jesus only through the eyes of humility. It won’t be through their strength or their power or their correctness on matters spiritual or otherwise. They will see him in their moment of need and the hunger of their hearts.

If Jesus comes to draw all people to himself and save them, it is in the universality of our need. We see this when we see our need for Someone in heaven greater than ourselves, but Someone who knows what it is to be human like you and me.  

Perhaps that’s why, when Jesus speaks of glory, he speaks of emptying. That is the paradox of the Christian life. Tucked in the middle of this passage about the universal attraction of the cross, Jesus speaks of the “grain that falls into the ground,” and the central of setting ourselves aside and following him.

This is what it takes to see Jesus, to really see him. He has “emptied” himself by coming down from heaven to us in complete vulnerability.[4] So he sets the pattern for those who follow him, and for all who will sooner or later see him. The cross-shaped life is not about getting what we want or determining it for others. It is about emptying ourselves into the love of God and the love of our neighbors. It is to set aside all the vain things that charm us most and serve like Christ, who gave up the throne in heaven to come down here and to give his life to the world.

Jesus says, “Unless the grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains just a single grain; but if it dies it bears much fruit.” Jesus says this about himself; he is the grain of wheat. He says it too as an invitation for us, to set aside all our presumption and to welcome his embrace.

So how far can Christ reach? Can he reach the halfway heretic? The part-time believer? The wayward sinner? Can he reach the person who is excluded? The one riddled with guilt? Those with weak knees and broken hearts? Yes, of course he can.

But here’s what I want to know: can he reach you?

(c) William G. Carter. All rights reserved.

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[1] A good summary is found in the New Yorker article, “The Hell Raiser,” by Kelefa Sanneh. Read it at https://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2012/11/26/the-hell-raiser-3

[2] Quoted in F. Dale Bruner, The Gospel of John: A Commentary (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2012) 219.

[3] Cecil F. Alexander, “Once in Royal David’s City,” stanza 5

[4] Philippians 2:7