The Lamb of God

If you follow along, I’ll read from Hebrews chapter 10. And before we break bread together, we’ll consider something of what it is that we’re doing. And to help us in that regard, we’ll look to a number of Scriptures, but let’s set our minds to rest by reading Hebrews 10:

“For since the law has but a shadow of the good things to come instead of the true form of these realities, it can never, by the same sacrifices that are continually offered every year, make perfect those who draw near. Otherwise, would they not have ceased to be offered, since the worshipers, having once been cleansed, would no longer have any consciousness of sins? But in these sacrifices there is a reminder of sins every year. For it is impossible for the blood of bulls and goats to take away sins.

“Consequently, when Christ came into the world, he said, ‘Sacrifices and offerings you have not desired, but a body [you have] prepared for me; in burnt offerings and sin offerings you have taken no pleasure. Then I said, “Behold, I have come to do your will, O God, as it is written of me in the scroll of the book.”’

“When he said above, ‘You have neither desired nor taken pleasure in sacrifices and offerings and burnt offerings and sin offerings’ (these are offered according to the law), then he added, ‘Behold, I have come to do your will.’ He does away with the first in order to establish the second. And by that will we have been sanctified through the offering of the body of Jesus Christ once for all.

“And every priest stands daily at his service, offering repeatedly the same sacrifices, which can never take away sins. But when Christ had offered for all time a single sacrifice for sins, he sat down at the right hand of God, waiting from that time until his enemies should be made a footstool for his feet. For by a single offering he has perfected for all time those who are being sanctified.

“And the Holy Spirit also bears witness to us; for after saying, ‘This is the covenant that I will make with them after those days, declares the Lord: I will put my laws on their hearts, and write them on their minds,’ then he adds, ‘I will remember their sins and their lawless deeds no more.’ Where there is forgiveness of these, there is no longer any offering for sin.”

In other words, when it has been accomplished, it doesn’t need to be re-accomplished.

A brief prayer:

Father, we want our hearts to be in tune as we break bread together tonight. And I pray that as we ponder these things briefly, that you will set forward all your plans and purposes for us, for you know us entirely—who we are and what we are and how we come to this occasion tonight. And so, accomplish all your lovely plans in us and through us, we pray. For Jesus’ sake. Amen.

No doubt all of us have had the experience that Sue and I have had in the last couple of weeks in going into a church building to discover that a service of worship is already in process and standing at the back—not being able to participate, partly because of the language barrier—but standing at the back and finding at least myself saying, “I wonder what these people are doing,” and then saying, “I wonder if these people know what they’re doing.” I don’t mean that in any spirit of judgment, but just in the awareness that where you have a strongly liturgical structure—for example, in a Roman Catholic church, and especially in Italy—then you find that it is distinctly possible for people to have become so routinely aware of the function and structure of what’s going on that it is distinctly possible to go through the motions without ever truly engaging. And the writer of Ecclesiastes warns about this kind of thing in chapter 5, where he writes, “Guard your steps when you go to the house of God. To draw near to listen is better than to offer the sacrifice of fools.”[1]

Now, I have had this in mind for various reasons but also in recognizing that to make that kind of observation, it applies in every case and to all of us. I wonder: Do we know exactly what we’re doing when we come to the Lord’s Supper? Even the idea of a supper or of a meal clashes with the expressions of these emblems, in the sense that it doesn’t appear on the surface to be a particularly satisfying meal until we understand what the nature of the meal really is.

It’s referred to by others as the Eucharist. It’s a good word. It means “thanksgiving,” the people recognizing that when we come to the Lord’s Table, we come to the Table with thankful hearts—thankful particularly to Jesus, for Jesus, what he has done in relationship, for example, to what we’ve just been reading in Hebrews. I mentioned this morning that when we come together tonight, it is to this ordinance, and, again, that is a good and a helpful word. This is not a suggestion. It’s not a helpful idea on the part of Jesus. It’s not actually an option. It is an ordinance. It is a divine ordinance: “Do this as often as you remember me.”[2]

When we use the word to remember, we recognize that also what we’re dealing with is a commemoration. It is that we look back so that we won’t forget—that we would have markers along the journey of our lives, our spiritual pilgrimage, just as the children of Israel did in the Old Testament; that we would be able to look to those places. We look back to the day that we were baptized, and sometimes, when we are confronted by severe temptation, we’re reminded of that ordinance, when we answered those questions and when we said, “I am absolutely committed to you, Lord Jesus Christ.” And that reminder is a means of grace to us. And the same is true here.

What we do is also a proclamation: “You proclaim the Lord’s death until he comes.”[3] And it is also, obviously, a communion. A communion. In 1 Corinthians, when Paul writes about these things, he talks about the participation that is involved. The bread that we break, he says, there is one loaf, just as there is one body, so that we are united in the Lord Jesus Christ[4]—that we share the bread, we share the cup, we share Christ, and we share Christ with one another.

We have in the past, I think, entertained these things. We never really followed through on it. Sometimes I remember when I was in Lookout Mountain, when the bread was passed, then the person who passed it to me reminded me of what it was that I was receiving, or they maybe said something like, you know, “Christ died for you, Alistair.” And it wasn’t a priestly expression. It was a sister or a brother that I’ve never met in my life. It was right. It’s a communion.

Isaac’s Question

And at the very heart of Communion, in a way that is both wonderful and forcible, we are reminded of Paul’s statement at the end of 2 Corinthians 5, which is probably the most oft-quoted verse in our Communion services, and understandably so: “For our sake he”—that is, God—“made him to be sin who knew no sin”—that is, Jesus—“so that in [Jesus] we might become the righteousness of God.”[5]

Why did Christ die on the cross? He died on the cross because he was receiving the wages of sin. “The wages of sin is death; … the gift of God is eternal life.”[6] Jesus, in dying on the cross, bore the wages of sin. He had no sin. He was sinless. Therefore, what was he doing? He was dying—as a sacrifice, as a substitute—he was dying in the sinner’s place.

And we will never really come to terms with what we participate in in these services until we have that anchored in our minds—this notion of the substitutionary part of Jesus in his death and in his obedience. And substitution—the doctrine of the substitutionary atonement, which is what it is—is as old as Genesis chapter 22. Hands up, all those who know what’s in Genesis chapter 22. Twelve of you. Very good. All right.

It’s the story of Abraham and Isaac. We won’t read it. But it is there, you will remember, that Abraham is taking his son Isaac up Moriah, and he is preparing everything for a sacrifice. And Isaac has a question: “Dad, it looks like you’ve got everything here except the one thing we need. Where is the lamb?” And you remember Abraham says to him, “The Lord himself will provide the lamb.”[7]

Now, from that point—in fact, before that point, but definitely from that point—the notion of substitution is cumulative. In other words, that concept, that theme, that biblical theme, that doctrinal reality builds as you go through your Bible. We often say we read from the back to the front so that we can understand the front. But when we come the other way around, we recognize that. I can’t belabor it tonight. We would be here for a long time. But, for example, go from Genesis and into Exodus. When you get into Exodus chapter 12—that’s right—we have the Passover. And what do we have at the heart of the Passover? We have the lamb. And what is the promise? Well, it is the promise that the dreadful destroyer who is going to come on “the eve of destruction”—for those of you who remember the ’60s—who is going to come will only be dealt with in one way: when he—that is, God—sees the blood, he “will not allow the destroyer to enter your [home and] strike you.”[8]

And so you remember that they took the blood of the lamb being shed, and they marked the lintels and the framework of their door. And what they were saying was “We believe you, God. We believe what you say and that you have asked us to do this.” And the lamb died in their place and secured their immunity from destruction.

It’s hard for me not to just keep launching off, but, for example, that is the reality of what is ours in Jesus, isn’t it? I mean, again, the writer to the Hebrews, he makes the wonderful point about that in Hebrews chapter 2. You can tell I’m very well prepared. I put markers in everything so that I don’t have to do this. In Hebrews 2—at least, it was there when I looked before: “Since therefore the children share in flesh and blood, he himself likewise partook of the same things”—listen—“that through death he might destroy the one who has the power of death, that is, the devil, and deliver all those who through fear of death were subject to lifelong slavery.”[9]

Every sin is an inside job. We sin because we want to sin. We sin as an act of the will.

You think about Jesus saying to the girls, “Hey, I’m the resurrection and the life. He that believes in me, even though he die, yet shall he live; and whosoever lives and believes in me will never die.”[10] On what basis? On what basis do we not bear the wages of sin? On what basis are we not lost forever? On the basis of a substitute, the Lamb.

You say, “Are you going to go… We’re only in Exodus! How far are you going?” Well, let’s just go to Isaiah. We’ll just jump to Isaiah chapter 53. You know it well: “Like a lamb led to the slaughter, like a sheep silent before its shearers, so he opened not his mouth.”[11] Who is the he? And I say this all the time—you’re fed up with it, I’m sure—but I do imagine Isaiah talking to his wife about these things. And when she said to him, “Well, who is this one? Who is this…” It was going to have to be a sinless person. It’s going to have to be… It’s not going to be an animal. Because, you see, an animal could never do for us what we need done. Because the problem with us is that every sin is an inside job. We sin because we want to sin. We sin as an act of the will. Therefore, the only person who could actually substitute for us is a person. He will be silent. He won’t open his mouth. He will identify with sinners. He will meet the requirements of a holy God. And he will consent to die in the place of others.

John’s Declaration

So, there you have it: about six hundred years, seven hundred years before Christ, and you read the prophecy, and you say, “Okay, we’ve got Isaac’s question, and we’ve got the cumulative story that is building.” So we’ll go from Isaac’s question to John’s declaration. I told you this morning we would be in John chapter 1. You turn to John chapter 1, and there you have it. It’s as though John the Baptist is able to pick up from Isaac’s question, and he says, “You know, Isaac, that was a really good question. A really good question: ‘Where is the lamb?’” And he says, “I want you to know, he’s right over here. He’s right over here.” “Behold, the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world!”[12]

If you read John chapter 1, it is clear that by this point, he has already baptized Jesus. He’s aware of this. But in a way that is true to his being the last of the prophets, he’s given an insight into the reality of what’s going on that is unique to him in order that he might be this person in this moment, that he might be the forerunner, that he might be the one who prepares the way, that he might be the one who points everyone to Jesus.

You see, he knew that Israel was looking for this person. They weren’t only looking for a king or a prophet or a priest; they were looking for one who bore all of those characteristics in himself. And John says, “Here it is.” It’s remarkable, isn’t it? Because Jesus is his cousin! This is not a mythology here. You know, this is not an invention. This is real history. This is real people. Remember Elizabeth and Mary and all the conversations? All of that is interwoven in this. And then he sees Jesus, and he says, “Look, there he is.”

He repeats it again, actually, in verse [36]. He says it in 29; he says it again in [36]. And you’ll notice—and this is just in passing—that what he’s actually doing is what we’re supposed to be doing. What? Diverting attention from himself. Diverting attention from himself. You remember they came to inquire of him, “Who are you? Are you this person? Are you that person?” “No, no,” he says, “I’m not any of those people.” And then, in their frustration, like journalists who are desperate for a quote, you know: “You’ve got to tell us something, because the people asked us to find out what is going on with you.” He says, “Well, I’m actually a voice. I’m a voice crying in the wilderness. I’m pointing. I’m like a finger pointing. I’m like a light that shines a little bit, but the true light that gives light to every man, he’s over there on the other side of the river.”[13]

If they came looking for a great quote, what a line! “I’ll give you a line,” he says. “Put this on the front page of the Gazette: ‘Behold, the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world!’” Diverts attention from himself, points his disciples to Jesus, thereby losing disciples of his own so that Jesus might have more disciples. You don’t get a lot of that with pastors. No, we want to keep as many as we can of our own. We don’t want anybody going over there or going to any of those places. That’s no good. He diverts attention from himself; he presents Jesus to people, urging them to follow him; and he fulfills his mission. In other words, he prepares the way, and he gets out of the way. He’s the best man. He’s not the groom. There’s nothing worse than a talkative best man at a wedding. Well, there are things worse than that, but it is really one of the worst. If you have any concerns about that, talk to me. I’ve got ways of dealing with it.

Peter’s Explanation

A question from Isaac, a declaration from John, and, thirdly and finally, an explanation from Peter. We could have gone anywhere, but, arbitrarily, 1 Peter 1:18: “knowing,” he says—writing to the scattered believers, 1 Peter 1:18—“knowing that you were ransomed,” purchased, freed,

from the futile ways inherited from your forefathers, not with perishable things such as silver or gold, but with the precious blood of Christ, like that of a lamb without blemish or spot. He was foreknown before the foundation[s] of the world, but was made manifest in the last times for the sake of you who through him are believers in God, who raised him from the dead and gave him glory, so that your faith and your hope are in God.

Jesus is the one to whom sin was imputed. Christ on the cross identifies himself with sin, bearing in himself all that sin deserved. When we read the Gospels, the message is clear: the Son of Man came to give his life a ransom for many.[14] That is why he came. And just as the Israelites had been rescued from the bondage of Egypt, so, in Christ, Peter says, you have been rescued also from your futile attempts to try and stumble your way through life, living in rebellion to God—so that we mustn’t mistake, as I began, the fact that Christ dies as a sacrifice and Christ dies as a substitute.

There’s a reason why the apostle Paul, given the vastness of his intellect, his comprehensive ability to communicate in all kinds of ways, when he writes to the Corinthians, he says to them, “When I came to you, I didn’t come with a great show and display of rhetoric or whatever else it might be.” I don’t believe that was because of an incapacity. It was a decision on his part. Because he could have just bamboozled them with all kinds of notions and understandings of things, given his background with Gamaliel as his Hebrew teacher and so on. No, he says, “I determined to know nothing among you except Jesus Christ and him crucified.”[15] That’s chapter 2. But in chapter 1, he’s already actually said that the message of Jesus Christ crucified is actually foolishness.[16] Well, why in the world would you show up with a message that is by and large regarded as foolish, unless it is in that message that salvation is found?

Do you understand why it is that when you go to various places to listen to the Bible being taught, you will find there is almost a deafening silence on an emphasis on the shed blood of Jesus Christ, on the fact of his atoning sacrifice, and you won’t be aware of it unless you’re looking for it? And you suddenly realize, “You know, that’s never mentioned.” Now, that may be because they are having an off day. But it may be because they are just operating on what I often refer to as Harry Belafonte’s theology, which is in his great hit song: “Man will live forevermore because of Christmas Day.”[17] That’s actually a theological perspective, and it’s wrong. When you find a minister who is communicating that, what he’s actually saying is all that really matters is the incarnation. It just matters that he came, because when he came, he took our nature, and by uniting himself to our nature, he dealt with our predicament.

Did he? If sin could have been atoned for by the incarnation, then Christ could have returned directly to the glory from the cradle in Bethlehem. So was all the thirty-three years that followed and this amazing death and this cry of satisfaction and “finished”[18]—was this all just something that people like to drum on about? Or is it that it is the very heart of the gospel? Well, of course, you know the answer to that question.

Upon the cross of Jesus
Mine eye at times can see
The very dying form of one
Who suffered there for me.[19]

It’s here, at the cross, that Jesus has dealt with sin—all of my disobedience completely covered over by Christ’s obedience; the word is expiation. It is here at the cross that God’s wrath is settled; the word is propitiation. Because our predicament before God outside of Christ is twofold: we are separated from him on account of our rebellion against him and he from us on account of his wrath towards our sin. Therefore, if we are ever to know God savingly, then our rebellion needs to be dealt with, and so does his wrath. Where is it dealt with? That’s right: at the cross. It’s at the cross that we’re reconciled to God.

The wonder of it is that God the Father didn’t just send Jesus to us. He sent Jesus for us. For us! That before the foundation of the world… Jesus came and died in order that he might bear your sin—not just sin, not just an amorphous mass of sin, but bear my sin, my rebellion, my disobedience, whatever it might be. He came purposefully for you. No wonder they call it a Eucharist, a thanksgiving! “Thank you, Lord!”

If we are ever to know God savingly, then our rebellion needs to be dealt with, and so does his wrath. Where is it dealt with? At the cross.

In his mercy—in his mercy—he hasn’t left us to the consequences of our choices. How about that? If he had let us do more of the dumb stuff that we were thinking of doing and left us to the consequences, we certainly wouldn’t be here. He doesn’t require us to repair what we have ruined, because he who knew no sin became sin for us in order that in him, we might become the righteousness of God.

And where there is that sacrifice for sin, that once-for-all, settled… In Christ, God has nothing against you tonight. Do you understand that? That’s the amazing thing about Hebrews 10. It says, “And the Holy Spirit also says…” And when it says, “The Holy Spirit also says,” what does he say? He quotes the Bible! The Holy Spirit quotes the Scriptures: “Your sins and your lawless deeds I will remember no more.”[20] “Remember no more.”

What a lovely thing it was when we used to sing that little chorus as children. Because even as children, you know you’re a mess, if you’re honest. You know you’re disobedient. You know you’re spiteful. You know you’re jealous. You know what it’s like to be all of these things. You’re just an embryonic disaster zone. And to be told the wonder of the amazing love of God is a heartbreaker!

Wide, wide as the ocean,
High as the heavens above,
Deep, deep as the deepest sea
Is my Savior’s love.
I, though so unworthy,
Still am a child of his care,
For his Word teaches me
That his love reaches me
Everywhere.[21]

That’s what we’re doing—just in case you were wondering.

Father, thank you that what we find in the pages of Scripture we find in picture form, almost, as we take this bread and remind ourselves of what lies behind what we do here. Thank you for the victorious word of Jesus from the cross, Tetelastai, “It is finished.”[22] Thank you for the benefits—that all the benefits of Jesus, all Jesus’ merits, are ours, not because we deserve them but because of the wonder of your love to us in Jesus. Help us, Lord, if we’ve come tonight buffeted by the antagonizing threats and chidings of the Evil One, wanting to drag us back to places of brokenness and disappointment. Help us to remind ourselves that in Jesus, we’re in the safest place in the universe. Sin cannot harm me there.

Prepare our hearts, Lord, for the closing moments of our time, we pray in Jesus’ name. Amen.

---

[1] Ecclesiastes 5:1 (ESV).

[2] Luke 22:19; 1 Corinthians 11:24 (paraphrased).

[3] 1 Corinthians 11:26 (ESV).

[4] See 1 Corinthians 10:17.

[5] 2 Corinthians 5:21 (ESV).

[6] Romans 6:23 (KJV).

[7] Genesis 22:7–8 (paraphrased).

[8] Exodus 12:23 (ESV).

[9] Hebrews 2:14–15 (ESV).

[10] John 11:25–26 (paraphrased).

[11] Isaiah 53:7 (paraphrased).

[12] John 1:29 (ESV).

[13] John 1:22–23 (paraphrased).

[14] See Matthew 20:28; Mark 10:45.

[15] 1 Corinthians 2:1–2 (paraphrased).

[16] See 1 Corinthians 1:18.

[17] Jester Hairston, “Mary’s Boy Child” (1956).

[18] John 19:30 (ESV).

[19] Elizabeth Cecilia Clephane, “Beneath the Cross of Jesus” (1868).

[20] Hebrews 10:17 (paraphrased).

[21] Charles Austin Miles, “Wide, Wide as the Ocean” (1914).

[22] John 19:30 (ESV).