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He Lingered |
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Why did he linger? Jesus had endured the worst of the
world. He had slept in its stables and faced its beasts. He had borne its
insults and faithlessness. He had tasted its tears and vinegar. He had
cringed under its whips and thorns, and agonized under its spikes and sins.
He descended to the deepest place a soul can go, to a dungeon which no key
had ever unlocked. So, when he had wrenched the heavy doors of death from
their hinges and walked free why did he linger in the graveyard? Even the
most breathtaking spring dawn has about it the pall of death compared to the
fragrances and breezes of heaven. Why did he linger when all heaven waited to welcome
him? With the chance to bound from the pit of impenetrable darkness to the
glory of ineffable light, from the screams of demons to the songs of the
angels, from the agony of death to the ecstasy of glory, why did he linger?
When all of heaven waited to welcome him home, when a new song waited to be
sung, when the throne awaited its king and the crowns their sole sovereign,
why would he linger to be mistaken for a gardener at the grave? Why return
for Thomas’ skeptical examination? Why stroll unrecognized with the
grief-stricken disciples? Why did he linger? Upon the cross Christ had cried with his dying breath, “It
is finished.” Salvation was secured. Death defeated. The Holy Spirit ready
for his Pentecostal arrival. It seemed as though there were no loose ends
left, no details unattended, no work undone. So why would he linger? He lingered for love’s sake, of course, to convince his
followers—more than 500 eyewitnesses—that he was indeed alive. Not just
resuscitated either, but a new Adam, fashioned not from dust but the
firstborn from among the dead. When he breathed on his disciples and said,
“Receive the Holy Spirit,” he gave them their first inkling that they would
no longer be what they had been. Ever since, faith in Christ vitalizes us
with the breath of his life, day in and day out, now and forever. Dying would come, too. Jesus’ followers all carry
crosses. We all die daily. That is especially and painfully true for those
who shepherd the Lord’s flocks. The work has been discouraging, the Lord’s
people—some of them—worse than unkind. A lot of pastors are gasping these
days. Many are breathless. In order to persevere we must breathe deeply of
the risen Christ, inhaling his Holy Spirit. Otherwise, we will suffer
spiritual emphysema. Paul, who knew about ministry mortality, tells us his
remedy: So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but
on what is unseen, since what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is
eternal.
(2 Cor. 4:18) A young pastor who I respect deeply told me, “Even when
people were cruel to me I wanted to die for them. I bear the weight of a
thousand stories no one else can know. And as I do, I feel from somewhere
deep within me a glimmer of hope, that just as it was for Jesus, after the
weight of suffering comes a place without tears and a crown for the one who
suffers well.” He added, “You have to think about this stuff. Either that or
I’ll quit, and I can’t do that.” Jesus lingers for you, willing to share your sufferings
so that you might inhale his life. Be ye glad!
Retired Pastor, PT Contributor
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