“See, Your King Is Coming”

I invite you to turn to the passage of Scripture that was read for us a moment or two ago from John chapter 12. And as you turn to that, we’ll pause and ask for God’s help as we study the Bible:

Our gracious God and Father, we thank you that since you made us and you established our individual DNA, you know us entirely. You know where we’ve been all week. You know why we’re here this morning. You know the thoughts of our minds and even our words before we even speak them.[1] In some ways that’s quite overwhelming to us, and in other ways it’s very encouraging that you would take such a personal interest in us and that you are able to bring the Bible to bear upon our minds and upon our lives in such a way as to match where we are with the truth of your Word. Certainly, no mere man can accomplish this. The one who plants and waters is nothing; the honor and the power and the glory belong to you, O God, since you are the one who makes things grow.[2] You’ve “exalted above all things your name and your word.”[3] And we pray that that may be apparent to us as we study these verses now. For Jesus’ sake. Amen.

Well, in turning to the record of the events of Palm Sunday, we’re surely joining millions around the world today who have engaged in a similar pursuit. We refer to these events in the calendar of the church as Palm Sunday, although as is fairly obvious to us, we’re quite a long way removed from the balmy breezes of a Jerusalem afternoon, certainly in waking up to a Cleveland April. It makes it all the more daunting to bring our minds under the direction of Scripture, insofar as we are removed both geographically and historically from the events that we’re considering by considerable time and distance.

However, for many of us, this material is fairly well known. I’d be surprised if anyone is here who doesn’t at least have an inkling of what is involved in the events of Palm Sunday. Many of us have grown up since childhood encountering these events and being able to articulate them to others. Jesus arrives on a donkey in Jerusalem to the applause and delight of many who had come up for the feast. He pauses and gazes over Jerusalem, weeps over it on account of the fact that they do not understand that in him is the very peace that many long for. He also takes time to cleanse the temple as a display of his righteousness and of the fact that God will not tolerate anything other than that which he has designed and demands when it comes to the issues of worship and his person.

The Pharisees are nonplussed by the amount of accolades that Jesus is receiving. They ask his disciples to try and tone the crowd down but eventually throw up their hands in despair, as verse 19 here of John 12 makes clear, saying to one another, “This is getting us [absolutely] nowhere. Look how the whole world has gone after him!”[4]

Now, this is actually a very difficult passage for me. It’s a difficult passage not to read—it’s easy enough to read—but to study and certainly to teach. And the reason that it’s so difficult is because of its familiarity. Because on the surface, it all seems so straightforward. After all, I’ve been confronted by the story of Palm Sunday for as long as I can ever remember. And many of you share that with me. And the danger is that we then come to familiar passages in such a way as to make precious few fresh discoveries at all. Not that our desire is for something intriguing or novel, but nevertheless, we want to make sure that we don’t just simply layer upon layer our understanding from the past and perhaps miss what God may reveal to us in our fresh attention to it.

So, when I come to a weekend like this—and next weekend is the same—I’m always looking and hoping and trusting that there will be something that sort of tweaks me. And this week it was verse 16 in the passage that was read: “At first his disciples did not understand all [of] this.” Now, I like the honesty of John telling us that. Here were these disciples experiencing the events firsthand and yet not being aware of what was taking place. It’s only after Jesus was glorified, John says, that they began to put the pieces of the puzzle together, when Jesus gave to two of the disciples the overview of things—the kind of overview that we’re trying to get ahold of in our evening studies at the moment and to which we’ll return tonight. It was only when they began to put all the pieces of the puzzle together that they began, then, to understand exactly what they had experienced in much of the life and ministry of Jesus, and not least of all in this whole triumphal approach to Jerusalem.

So, there they were, like many of us, aware of the material and yet unable or unwilling to grasp or be grasped by its significance. For I surely do not assume that everyone who is here this morning is here because of a deep conviction as to the truth of this Sunday and as a result of the impact that that truth has made upon our lives. Some of us are here confused. Some are, frankly, quite indifferent. Some of us are here under compulsion. We’re here for a variety of reasons. I couldn’t possibly know what they all are, and I don’t need to. But the one who authored the Bible does, and since he knows you and since he wrote this book, my great conviction is that God will bring his book to your life in such a way as to meet you at your point of need. Without that conviction, I am involved in a futile exercise.

Now, during the week, I allowed my imagination to run a little wild, and I’m prepared to admit that to you. And in fact, I want to invite you to allow your imaginations to run a little along with me. I want you to imagine for a moment or two a twelve-year-old boy—I’m calling him Levi—and his father making their way through Jerusalem. And as they make their way through Jerusalem, they come upon this scene: the palm branches and the crowds and the individual on the donkey. And they get caught up in the singing crowd, and the boy inevitably begins to plague his dad with questions: “Father, who is this man? Dad, why are they singing the psalm from the Passover? Why are they singing the words that we always sing at the end of the Passover? We always sing it in the house. Why are they singing it outside, Dad? Dad, is this man on the donkey the king of Israel? Dad, why is he on a donkey?” Or, if he were a more contemporary boy, he may, in colloquial terms, be asking his dad, “What’s the deal about the ‘king’ thing? What’s going on here, Dad?”

And the father, not quite sure what to say, buys himself a little time, saying, “I’ll explain to you when we get home,” hoping that when they get home, the boy’s questions will have run away, and his interest will be in something quite different—only to discover that following the evening meal, and they’ve finished the dishes, and the boy comes back again. Levi comes back, and he says, “Dad, Dad, you told me that you would answer those questions.”

And so he says, “Well, let me try as best I can, as briefly as I can. Levi, a long, long time ago, at the time of Deborah and Samson and Gideon, Israel didn’t have a king. And the people thought that if they did have a king, that would sort out most of their problems. And so they asked for a king. And God used a man called Samuel to anoint the first king of Israel. And who was the first king of Israel, Levi?”

“Well, that was Saul, Dad.”

“Very good. And the second?”

“David.”

“The third?”

“Solomon.”

“Correct, Levi! You’ve been paying attention at Hebrew school. This is good. I’m pleased to hear this! And you’ll know that these kings were marked by both success and failure. Saul was a political success but a religious disaster. David was both successful politically and religiously but was a moral failure. And Solomon, who got the best start of all of them, actually, ironically, failed religiously.”

“Yes, I know Dad, but I’m not… That’s not what I’m asking about. I’m asking, Dad, about the man on the donkey.”

“Yes, I understand, Levi. But you must be patient. Kings came and went. And as the spotlight scanned all the kings of the Northern and the Southern Kingdom, looking for somebody who would be an ideal and wonderful king, kings died, and the people lived, saying to themselves not ‘We resent the idea of a king; we wish we’d never asked for a king,’ but they began to say to themselves, ‘There must be something more than this.’ And you may even remember, Levi, that God made a wonderful promise to King David. He said to him, ‘Your house and your kingdom will endure forever before me, and your throne will be established forever.’ And Levi, generations have come and gone wondering how that promise would be fulfilled. And your great-grandfather and your great-great-great-grandfather died not just hoping for a better king but hoping for a perfect king.

“Levi, listen. Let me read to you from a book, and see if this helps you…”

“With each new king, Israel hoped anew … hoped that this one would be God’s perfect Messiah, the one who would bring in the golden age. Of each of its kings, Israel asked, ‘Are you the one who is to come, or shall we look for another?’ From the time of David onward, Israel expected a ruler who would save his people, a ruler who would restore to them all of the goodness of … creation.” … The passing years, however, made the promise grow until it not only outgrew the capacity of any foreseeable member of David’s line to fulfil it but also the capacity of any mere human being. The promise never lost touch with reality but it became decidedly larger than life.[5]

“Dad, I’m falling asleep! I’m only asking about the man on the donkey. Who could this perfect king be? How could we ever get a perfect king? Dad, do you think the man on the donkey is the perfect king?”

And once again vying for time, the father says, “Listen, Levi, you’ve had enough questions for one day. Pull the blankets up under your chin, put your head on the pillow, and get off to sleep, and we can talk about it in the morning.”

Well, now it is the morning, and we’re talking about it. And the questions—invented questions of an imaginary boy—are actually the questions of the crowd in Jerusalem. For ultimately, they are asking this question: “Who is this man?” They are not content simply to experience the event. They cannot be fobbed off with a few palm branches and the cries of children. It is insufficient for the investigative mind simply to absorb the moment of a Palm Sunday event, for the searching mind must inevitably ask, “Why is it, two thousand years on, that any of us are part of this vast company around the world that today is focused on these passages of the Bible, that today is focused on a Galilean carpenter riding on a donkey into the heart of Jerusalem?” Any sensible person—and I speak to sensible people, I take it—any sensible person is going to recognize that the invented questions of the imaginary boy are the essential questions of all who want to get to the heart of the matter here.

And when we ask along these lines, when we are stirred as the city was stirred and ask the question “Who is this?” the Bible answers straightforwardly in two phrases: number one, this is a different kind of king, and number two, this is a different kind of kingdom.

A Different Kind of King

A different kind of king on multiple fronts—more than I can take time to recount. His difference was seen even in his transportation. We may have expected a king to come on something much finer than a donkey, but into Jerusalem he comes.

Indeed, the very fact that he came on a donkey marked him out as different. It was the responsibility, the expectation of every able-bodied male to make their aliyah, to make their pilgrimage up to Jerusalem for the feast on foot. At least the last part of their journey they made on foot. But here, as they make the last part of the journey, Jesus says, “Get me this donkey. I’m going to ride into Jerusalem.” They didn’t understand the significance at the time, but afterwards, they realized that this was exactly what Zechariah the prophet had mentioned in Zechariah 9:9, where he had described, looking forward into time to a fulfillment that he didn’t grasp, someone who would come riding on this donkey, on “the foal of a donkey.”

He was a different King not only by means of transportation but also by means of his demeanor. Kings you would expect to be rather austere, almost otherworldly. You would expect that their thrones would be high, and you would be removed from them. If ever you were beckoned towards them, you presumably would bow, or you would curtsey. On the one occasion that I met Prince Charles, I remember being overawed by the event, shaking his hand, saying as little as possible, responding only to anything he said to me, and then scurrying along so the next person might have the privilege. But I didn’t say, “Hey,” you know, “how’s it going?” or, you know, “What’s your handicap?” or “Do you want to go for pizza?” He wasn’t expecting that. He wasn’t approachable. He’s a Majesty. He’s royalty.

And that’s what you would expect. But look at this King: a gentle King, a humble King, a salvation-bringing King, a righteousness-establishing King. In fact, when Jesus identifies himself with any characteristic at all, he identifies himself with this: “Come to me, all you who are weary and heavy laden, and I will give you rest. And take my yoke upon you and learn from me”—and then he identifies himself—“for I am gentle and lowly in heart.”[6] “I’m not like other kings. I’m not like the gentile kings.” Remember, he said, “I have no time for those gentile kings, who lord it over people.[7] No, I’m the King with the towel and the basin. I am the King like the caddy for the pro. I am the King—an approachable King, a different King.”

His difference is seen in his crown as well. He’s about to wear a crown. You would expect one with jewels, diamonds, and rubies and all of the finery that marks out the royal forehead. If you go to the Tower of London, you will see the Crown Jewels. There they are, in all of their resplendent glory. Sotheby’s could never put a price on them for auction—magnificent, overwhelming in their grandeur. Well, that’s what kings wear! But this King was going to wear a crown of thorns. What kind of king wears a crown of thorns? What kind of king allows people to do that to him?

And he was a different King inasmuch as he was apparently focused on his death. You read the biography of kings, and the vast majority of it has to do with their lives: when they were born and where they lived and how they reigned and the things that they implemented and so on. But this King, the majority of the information has to do with his death.

A Different Kind of Kingdom

A different kind of king, with a different kind of kingdom—a kingdom that he told people was not of this world. “My kingdom,” he said, “is not of this world. If it were, my servants would fight to prevent my arrest …. But now my kingdom is from another place.”[8] Well, that’s so hard to understand. People say, “Well, I don’t understand. How can you be a king and not have a kingdom? I mean, you’re supposed to have walls, and you have a place, and inside of that is your jurisdiction, and outside of it is someone else’s domain. But what do you mean, your kingdom is not of this world? And if it is from another place, what place is it from?”

It’s a different kind of kingdom. It’s a kingdom that was not only not of this world but a kingdom that was immediately present—present already. On one occasion, he’s asked by the Pharisees when the kingdom of God would come, and he says, “You shouldn’t really be asking when the kingdom of God would come or where the kingdom of God would be,”
he says, “because the kingdom of God is actually here; it is within you.”[9] And the people say, “Oh, this is getting harder by the moment. First of all, it is a kingdom that is not of this world; it is from another place, and we’re not sure where. Now it is a kingdom that is present, but we can’t see it except that it is within us.”

Hold on! It gets even harder. Because it is a kingdom that is ultimately future—that the full reality of the kingdom will only arrive at the return of Jesus Christ. That, incidentally, is what makes it so difficult to understand the Old Testament prophetic passages. And that is what should serve as a warning to us in making application of Old Testament prophetic passages in a definitive and dogmatic way. Because it is often difficult to tell whether the passage refers to the coming of Jesus in Bethlehem or to the return of Jesus in power and glory, and sometimes the passages refer to both. When Paul exhorts Timothy, he says to him, “I urge you, Timothy, to preach the Word, and I urge you on the basis of Christ’s kingdom and his appearing.”[10] John in Revelation says, “The kingdom of [this] world has become the kingdom of our Lord and of his Christ, and he will reign for ever and ever.”[11]

And life in the kingdom is conflict. Life in the kingdom is tough. Jesus said, “No one who puts his hand to the plow and looks back is fit for … the kingdom of God.”[12] The apostle said we must go through many hardships in entering into the ultimate reality of God’s kingdom.[13]

Well, this gives the lie to my friends at school who used to say, “Begg, you’re only a Christian ’cause you need a crutch. Begg, the only reason you believe in Jesus is because you’re psychologically impoverished. There’s something wrong with you. If you could get yourself stabilized, then you could be done with the silly songs, you could be done with the silly stories, you could be done with Jesus in general, and you could get on with life the way a normal person gets on with life. You only want to be in that kingdom thing as some kind of insurance policy, some kind of means to prop you up and get you through your life.” Do people ever say that to you?

Well, you just tell them, “That’s not true to experience, and it sure isn’t true to the Bible.” Because it’s tough to be a Christian. It’s tough to serve the King. It’s tough to go against the flow. Any dead fish can go with the stream. It is tough to swim against the current. And the conflict represents the kingdom. That’s why the Westminster Confession of Faith says that the Christian is involved in “a continual and irreconcilable war.”[14] So the invitation to the kingdom is not an invitation to tranquility. It is not an invitation to the immediate enjoyment of life without any challenges. No, the invitation to the kingdom is a daunting invitation. And life within the kingdom is a tough life. It is a conflict-driven life. And anyone who tells you it isn’t is teaching from an empty head and a closed Bible.

Any dead fish can go with the stream. It is tough to swim against the current.

And the work of the kingdom is proclaiming the good news. Jesus came proclaiming the good news of the kingdom of God. Let me give you one way of knowing whether you’re in the kingdom: you love to tell others the good news. You love the opportunity to say to somebody, “You know, I met the King, and he’s on the lookout for subjects. And he’s asked those of us who are in his kingdom to speak to those who are outside the kingdom in order that they might become kids of the kingdom.” But of course, if what I’m recounting to you know goes flying across the top of your head, never even comes on the radar screen, the chances are that you are yourself not in the kingdom.

“Well, how could I not be in the kingdom?”

Well, because by nature, none of us are in the kingdom. You’re not born in the kingdom. You’re not baptized into the kingdom. You’re not welcomed into the kingdom as a result of religious endeavors. Well, then we’d better just finish up by asking the question, “How do you get in this kingdom?” He’s a different kind of King with a different kind of kingdom. And therefore, we ought not to be surprised if when he describes entry into the kingdom, he describes it in a different kind of way:

Now there was a man of the Pharisees named Nicodemus, a member of the Jewish ruling council. [And] he came to Jesus at night and said, “Rabbi, we know you[’re] a teacher who[’s] come from God. For no one could perform the miraculous signs that you[’re] doing if God were not with him.”

In reply Jesus declared, “I tell you the truth, no one can see the kingdom of God unless he is born again.”

“How can a man be born again when he[’s] old?” Nicodemus asked. “Surely he [can’t] enter a second time into his mother’s womb to be born!”[15]

Jesus said, “No, I’m not talking about physical birth. I’m talking about spiritual birth.”

You should[n’t] be surprised [that I say], “You must be born again.” The wind blows wherever it pleases. You hear its sound, but you cannot tell where it comes from or where it[’s] going. So it is with everyone born of the Spirit.”

“[Well,] how can this be?” Nicodemus asked.[16]

Jesus says, “You are the teacher of Israel, and you don’t understand this? Have you never understood the Old Testament? The way the serpent was lifted up in the wilderness, in the same way the Son of Man will be lifted up, so that everyone who believes in him may have eternal life.”[17]

“For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life.”[18]

Now, here we are at the point of entry: “whoever believes in him.” When the Bible speaks about believing, it speaks not only about the use of our minds to settle on truth that we understand, that we apprehend, that we’re even prepared to affirm, in the way that we can affirm our belief in the reliability of an airline timetable, so that there is a flight on such and such a day at such and such a time to such and such a place. We may believe that. However, if we are to travel on that flight, there needs not only to be the intellectual apprehension of that truth, but there needs to be personal commitment to that flight on the basis of that truth. Otherwise, all our believing it will not take us from where we are to where we desire to go.

When the New Testament speaks about believing, it combines both of those issues. It says that when a man or a woman comes to believe, they do not simply believe that Jesus is a Savior or that Jesus is even the Savior, but they come to the point where they believe that Jesus is my Savior, so that they believe that he has borne their sin in his body on the tree.[19] They believe that he has borne their griefs and carried their sorrows.[20] They believe that he has become sin for them so that they might become the righteousness of God in him.[21] And as a result of believing—yes, just believing—they’re welcomed into his kingdom, they become his subjects, and they begin to experience eternal life.

Of course, the flip side of it is equal. Those who consider these things and choose not to believe, those who turn their back on the appeal of the gospel, those who walk out saying, “Well, I would rather go with the crowd than go with that little group,” then they will perish. “For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, [so] that whoever believes in him shall not perish.”

I’m on my own at the moment in the house. I am a master of creating perishable items. I don’t know how it is, but I can make things rot as good as anybody. And on the day before Sue returns, I go around and throw out vast quantities of things that apparently have lost the touch that she has to keep them the way they’re supposed to be—apples and… It doesn’t matter! But you understand perishing. You understand perishing. The Bible says that we are perishing and that if we die in our sins, we will spend eternity apart from God in hell. And God, who loves to save people, sent his King to wear this crown, to die this death, to rise victorious, to open the door of heaven for you, if you will believe.

Now, may I ask you as I finish: Do you believe? Have you believed onto Christ? Are you resting solely in what Christ himself has done? We are not justified by anything we do, and we’re actually not justified by anything that is done in us.

When I listen to people talk about why it is they think they’re going to heaven, I hear two explanations: “I think I’m going to go to heaven because of the things that have done by me.” In other words, “I’m going to earn my way there.” It’s a bad idea! But secondly, I hear people saying, “I think I’m going to go to heaven because of something done in me. In me.”

And when a person is relying on what is happening in them, then let me tell you how it goes. They start to ask themselves the question, “Am I properly convicted of my sins? Do I really love people the way I’m supposed to? Have I lost my love for this world the way the Bible speaks about it? Am I bearing the fruit of the Spirit? Do I have a vibrant prayer life?” That’s a formidable inventory. And if you ask yourself that question exclusively, it will ultimately lead you to despair. Because it will be hard for us to conclude that our spiritual lives are in good enough working order. And it actually is a form of self-justification. “I’m going to go to heaven,” says the person, “not because of what I’ve done but because of what I’ve experienced.”

No one’s going to heaven on the basis of either what they have done or what they have experienced! The story in baptism is not “I experienced this, and I experienced that, and I experienced the next thing.” What is the answer? You see, there is no peace there on the basis of our Christian experience, because we falter. We’re up, we’re down, we’re back, we’re forth, we’re in, we’re out, we have a good week, a bad week, don’t we? So, on what basis? The ground of our justification lies utterly outside of ourselves—going to heaven not on account of things done by me, not on account of things done in me, but on account of what has been done for me.

You see, what was done in the thief on the cross? What time did he have to build up a portfolio of Christian experience, to produce the fruit of the Spirit and have a long vibrant prayer time and have a big list of people he prayed for and everything else? He had no time at all. Why did he go to heaven? Because he believed. Do you believe? Do you realize how crucial this is?

The ground of our justification lies utterly outside of ourselves—going to heaven not on account of things done by me, not on account of things done in me, but on account of what has been done for me.

Yesterday, as I was exercising… (I can mention that; it happens so sparingly.) As I was exercising… (And I like to mention it every time it happens, because it makes me feel better.) But when I was exercising, I saw on the screen before me an advertisement for funerals. They had funeral insurance. I was intrigued by this, and I twigged the earphones and made it work so that I could tune in, and the gentleman was explaining that if I put in some money now, then I wouldn’t have to worry later, and so on. And I said to myself, “My, this is quite remarkable! We’ve regarded death as something ‘out there’ for a very long time and something to be concealed, but now we’re advertising it.” And I said, “Well, maybe this is something I just missed, and now that I’m getting older…” And they said, “Your average funeral costs six thousand, it may cost you ten grand, and have you considered an urn, and do you want a coffin?” and everything else. And I said, “Man…” I’m trying to run even faster, ’cause I don’t want to die, because I’m clearly not ready for any of this stuff.

And the previous day, one of my friends from Ireland had just sent me an email informing me of something that I didn’t know: that Larry LaPrise had died in his sleep at the age of [eighty]-three. Larry LaPrise, the author of “The Hokey Pokey,” had died in his sleep at ninety-three. Apparently, the most traumatic part for his family was getting him into his coffin. They put his left leg in, and…

So I’m saying to myself, “This is amazing! This is truly amazing.” So I went online, and I chose my funeral planner. I chose “Plan Forever.” And I discovered that if you click, you can make sure you have the right cards, the right donations, the right flowers, deal with your pets. You can get a counselor. You can deal with your last wishes, mortuary finder, obituaries, plants, travel, tree planting, urns, virtual memorials, and wills and legal services. And says the advertisement, “It’s never easy to think about the end of your own life or that of a loved one. But if you don’t take care of it now, it will only be more difficult, and potentially more expensive, later.” Wow, that really scares me! What do I care? I’m gone! Have at it. Take me to Chardon: Amish, fine. They got it clear.

I searched in vain for anything, for anything at all, that confronted the real issue: “It is appointed unto [man] once to die, [and] after this the judgment.”[22] “What shall it profit a man, if he [gains] the whole world, and lose[s] his own soul? [And] what [will] a man give in exchange for his soul?”[23]

Levi is an invention of my imagination, but there are twelve-year-old boys and girls in here this morning, and they deserve answers to their questions, for they need to believe and trust in Jesus. Dad, if your son tugs on your jacket this afternoon and says, “Dad, tell me: Is Jesus the King of Kings, and how can I know him?” can you answer? Or if your grandchildren come over during the week, and they’re asking you about Easter and Good Friday, can you introduce them to the King? Only if you’ve met him yourself. And what’s involved in this encounter? Just believe. Believe. That’s all that’s involved: believe. Do you believe?

Father, look upon us in your grace and kindness. Come to our stubborn hearts and lives as we make up fancy excuses as to why we do not believe, choosing to trust in our own ideas rather than to trust in your unfailing love. Some of us are seeking to make things right on the basis of what’s been done by us, and we know we could never do enough. Others of us are tempted to believe that the whole answer is to be found in what’s done in us, and that doesn’t instill confidence in many of us. It is so wonderful to realize that ultimately, we are accepted by you on the basis of what has been done for us.

Because the sinless Savior died,
My [guilty] soul is counted free,
For God the just is satisfied
To look on him and pardon me.[24]

Some of us this morning, Lord, want to come to you for the very first time and get this matter sorted out. We want to say to you, “Lord Jesus Christ, I admit that I’m weaker and more sinful than I ever before believed, but I understand that through you I am more loved and accepted than I ever dared hope. I thank you for paying my debt, bearing my punishment, and offering me forgiveness, and I turn from my sin and receive you as my Savior.”

And now to the King eternal, immortal, invisible, the only God, be honor and glory forever and ever. Amen.

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[1] See Psalm 139:4.

[2] See 1 Corinthians 3:7–8.

[3] Psalm 138:2 (NIV 1984).

[4] John 12:19 (NIV 1984).

[5] Alec Motyer, Look to the Rock: An Old Testament Background to Our Understanding of Christ (Leicester, England: Inter-Varsity, 1996), 31. The internal quotation is from P. and E. Achtemeier, The Old Testament Roots of Our Faith (SPCK, 1963), 101.

[6] Matthew 11:28–29 (paraphrased).

[7] Matthew 20:25 (paraphrased).

[8] John 18:36 (NIV 1984).

[9] Luke 17:20–21 (paraphrased).

[10] 2 Timothy 4:1–2 (paraphrased).

[11] Revelation 11:15 (NIV 1984).

[12] Luke 9:62 (NIV 1984).

[13] See Acts 14:22.

[14] The Westminster Confession of Faith 8.2.

[15] John 3:1–4 (NIV 1984).

[16] John 3:7–9 (NIV 1984).

[17] John 3:10, 14–15 (paraphrased).

[18] John 3:16 (NIV 1984).

[19] See 1 Peter 2:24.

[20] See Isaiah 53:4.

[21] See 2 Corinthians 5:21.

[22] Hebrews 9:27 (KJV).

[23] Mark 8:36–37 (KJV).

[24] Charitie Lees Bancroft, “Before the Throne of God Above” (1863).