Sermon: Exodus 12: 1-42 Scripture Fulfilled: The Passover

Christ our Passover has been sacrificed for us. Therefore let us keep the feast. Those words opened our service tonight. They’re words that were spoken this morning at our Communion service. But what does it mean? What’s the Passover, and how is Christ our Passover?

On these Sunday nights leading up to Easter, we’re going to dig into the Old Testament. We’re going to see how the cross of Jesus fulfils some of the Old Testament promises and prophecies. And tonight we begin with the Passover. So what is it all about?

In our (very) long reading, we heard of all the instructions for the very first Passover meal. Now, I don’t know whether in your house you have certain days for certain meals. Maybe Monday night is pasta night; or Friday night is a chippy tea. For this first Passover, there was only one dish on the menu, in every Israelite home. Roasted lamb, bitter herbs, and bread made without yeast. What’s for dinner tonight? It was going to be lamb, by divine decree.

As we’ve landed into the middle of a Bible book, we need to get our bearings. We’re in Exodus, the 2nd book of the Bible, and watching as the story continues. You see, Genesis, the first book, is all about beginnings - the creation, the fall, the flood, and then the story of Abraham and his family line. By the end of Genesis there are 75 (or 70) Israelites in the land of Egypt (brought there by Joseph and his amazing technicolour dreamcoat).

When Exodus begins, there are a whole lot more Israelites - so many in fact, that Pharaoh is afraid of them. He begins to enslave them, tries to kill off their babies, but one of those babies is rescued from the Nile by Pharaoh’s daughter. That baby, now grown up, is called by the LORD (capital letters, covenant name of God) to lead his people out of slavery and into the promised land. But when Moses went to the new Pharaoh, and asked him to ‘let my people go’, Pharaoh said no. Then no. Then no. Time and time again.

The LORD sent a series of plagues on Egypt, to demonstrate his power (and also to ridicule the Egyptian small g gods), but Pharaoh just kept hardening his heart. We heard them in Psalm 78 - the water turned to blood, frogs, gnats, flies, plague on livestock, boils, hail, locusts, and darkness. But still Pharaoh said no.

And so the LORD prepared to send his last plague. A plague even worse than the previous nine combined. The plague to end all plagues - the death of the firstborn. God said that there would be a death in every house, that the firstborn would die. Then Pharaoh and the Egyptians would know that the LORD is God. Then the Israelites would be saved and rescued.

Death was coming to every house on the same night. But for the Israelites, there was a way for the death of their firstborn to be avoided. It involved the Passover Lamb. And we find the details in chapter 12.

The man was to choose a lamb for his household - a year-old male without defect, big enough to feed his family. Over several days they were to care for it, look after it, until the fourteenth day of the month. At twilight, just as evening is coming in, the lamb was to be slaughtered. Before they cook the meal, though, the blood of the lamb had to be painted on the sides and top of the door frame of the house.

They even have cooking instructions - roasted over the fire (not raw or cooked in water). And they have table instructions - with your coat on, cloak tucked into your belt, sandals on feet, staff in hand, ready to move. This isn’t going to be a leisurely meal to take all night and chat into the morning. This is a meal eaten quickly, in haste, waiting to move out.

So how did the Passover work? Well, we’re told in verses 12-13. Let’s focus in on these verses. ‘On that same night I will pass through Egypt and strike down every firstborn - both men and animals - and I will bring judgement on all the gods of Egypt. I am the LORD. The blood will be a sign for you on the houses where you are; and when I see the blood, I will pass over you. No destructive plague will touch you when I strike Egypt.’

We get the same idea over in verse 23: ‘When the LORD goes through the land to strike down the Egyptians, he will see the blood on the top and sides of the door-frame and will pass over that doorway, and he will not permit the destroyer to enter your houses and strike you down.’

So here we get the idea of the Passover. The Lord will ‘pass over’ the Israelite houses. Why? Because of the blood on the door-frame. You see, the blood is the sign that a death has occurred in this house. And so the firstborn inside is safe, sheltered by the blood. The Egyptian homes didn’t have the blood on the door frame, and so the destroyer visited death in those homes.

Now, this is easy for me to imagine, because I’m the firstborn in our family. But imagine that you’re the firstborn in your house. You’d want to make sure that your dad did it all according to the Lord’s instructions, wouldn’t you? That your dad had killed the lamb. That he hadn’t forgotten to paint the blood on the door-frame. You see, for the firstborn, it’s either that lamb that dies tonight, or else it’s you. But you’ll be safe, so long as it has died in your place.

The Passover Lamb is a substitutional sacrifice. We’re familiar with the idea of substitutes in football. My own football career didn’t last very long. I was picked as a substitute for our school team for an away match against Rathfriland High School. It was a cold, rainy day, and for the whole match, I stood on the sidelines. I never got the chance to grace the pitch. So I gave up football shortly after that. But the idea of a substitute is that they take your place. You’re injured, or you can’t play, then someone else takes your place.

For the firstborn, the Passover lamb is their substitute. It dies instead of the firstborn. It takes his place. It dies, and allows the firstborn to live. And that’s exactly what happened. When midnight struck, the Lord struck down all the firstborn in Egypt (29). Every house in Egypt mourned, from Pharaoh to the dungeon.

That same night, Pharaoh gave the order for the Israelites to leave, to get out, to exit (hence exodus). That’s why the meal was eaten in haste. Over a million people were suddenly on the move, free from their slavery, saved by the Passover lamb.

It’s when we put ourselves in the sandals of the firstborn that we appreciate the blessing of the Passover lamb. It dies to let us live. It dies in our place as our substitute.

I wonder can you begin to see how Christ might be our Passover? One of the aspects of the Lord Jesus is that he came to be our Passover Lamb, the one who dies on our behalf, in our place. We see glimpses of this all the way through the gospels, little hints of what is to come. So, John the Baptist points at Jesus and says ‘Look, the Lamb of God!’ (Jn 1:36). Or, at the time of the Transfiguration, Luke tells us that when Moses and Elijah appear with Jesus, ‘They spoke about his departure (Greek: exodus), which he was about to bring to fulfilment at Jerusalem.’ (Lk 9:31).

The Passover became one of the three great festivals, which all the Israelites were to celebrate each year in Jerusalem. On their way, they would sing the songs of ascents (Ps 120-134) which we’re studying in the Fellowship. The Passover ritual remained the same every year. The same menu, with the same questions and answers and the same remembering of the Lord’s Passover.

The same, that is, until one particular Passover. It started as normal, but then Jesus departed from the well known script. Jesus took bread, gave thanks and broke it, and gave it to his disciples saying, ‘Take it; this is my body.’ Then he took the cup, gave thanks and offered it to them, and they all drank from it. ‘This is my blood of the (new) covenant, which is poured out for many.’

The bread and wine are the body and blood of Jesus - our Passover Lamb. In changing the Passover liturgy, Jesus is saying that he is the ultimate Passover Lamb. That the Old Testament Passover points to him and his sacrifice for us.

Jesus is our Passover lamb. He died in our place, for our sins, as our substitute. We can find shelter under his blood. We are freed by his blood - freed from the slavery of sin. We just need to trust in him.

We are safe under his blood, knowing that he has died for us. Are you trusting him tonight for your salvation?

Christ our Passover has been sacrificed for us. Therefore let us keep the Feast!

This sermon was preached in St Matthew's Church, Richhill on Sunday evening 4th March 2018.

Sermon: Isaiah 52:13 - 53:12 Scripture Fulfilled - The Suffering Servant

It’s an assignment I would have failed - my mission impossible. But it’s one that Philip passed with flying colours. One day, he was minding his own business, when an angel told him to go down to the desert road from Jerusalem to Gaza. When he got there, he saw a Rolls Royce chariot, heading south. The Spirit told him to ‘go to that chariot and stay near it.’

That’s where I probably would have failed miserably! But Philip runs along beside it, and as he does, he hears the man inside reading aloud; words that were very familiar. So Philip asks him, ‘Do you understand what you are reading?’ ‘How can I, unless someone explains it to me?’ comes the answer.

Philip is invited to come up and sit with the owner of the chariot - I’m sure he was glad to get his breath again! As he did so, the Ethiopian eunuch read out these words: ‘He was led like a sheep to the slaughter, and as a lamb before the shearer is silent, so he did not open his mouth. In his humiliation he was deprived of justice. Who can speak of his descendants? For his life was taken from the earth.’

So who is the prophet speaking about, the eunuch asks. Himself, or someone else? ‘Then Philip began with that very passage of Scripture and told him the good news of Jesus.’ (Acts 8:35) From this passage we read tonight, Philip told him the good news of Jesus. Who is it all about? Jesus. Always Jesus. Only Jesus.

That episode from Acts chapter 8 helps us to see the idea we’ve been thinking about all through this Holy Week - that the Old Testament scriptures point forward to the cross of the Lord Jesus Christ. Long before the first Good Friday, the cross was already in view, in types and shadows and patterns - the serpent crusher in Genesis 3 who would defeat the devil; the Passover in Exodus 12, with safety under the blood of the Lamb; the forsaken suffering Saviour in Psalm 22; the substitute that the Lord will provide in Genesis 22.

Tonight we come to what is perhaps the clearest Old Testament description of the cross. Indeed, Isaiah 53 portrays the cross so clearly that some have spoken of Isaiah as the fifth evangelist, an extra gospel writer. John Stott, points out that every verse (apart from v 2) of Isaiah 53 is quoted in the New Testament. But these words were written seven hundred years before the events of the first Good Friday.

Towards the end of Isaiah’s gospel, there are a number of ‘servant songs’ - songs either sung by or about the Lord’s servant, the one who would come to serve and redeem. (Isaiah 42, 44, 49, 53, 61). This servant song (indicated by the opening words of 52:13) has five verses (stanzas), each with three Bible verses.

And those stanzas are arranged like a sandwich. So if you were making a sandwich, you have some bread, then a slice of ham, then some cheese, then another slice of ham, and another bit of bread. Bread on either outside, then ham, and right at the centre, the cheese. Our passage tonight is like that ham and cheese sandwich. The two outside passages are what God says about the servant; inside that are how people treated the servant; and right in the middle is what the servant achieved.

Section 1 - the wise servant. ‘See, my servant will act wisely; he will be raised and lifted up and highly exalted.’ Even in the first line of this servant song, God says what the end will be. ‘He will be raised and lifted up and highly exalted.’ This isn’t just the lifting up of the cross, but already we see the very end, highly exalted in heaven. More than that, he will sprinkle many nations - make them clean, by sprinkling them - yet it isn’t going to be all plain sailing, in verse 14 there’s the hint of what is to come - the many who were appalled at him and his disfigured appearance, and form marred beyond human likeness. The sprinkling and the shock come together - the one flows from the other.

Next section (like the ham), we hear the voices of others, describing this servant. But there’s a question: ‘Who has believed our message and to whom has the arm of the Lord been revealed?’ That’s the question John asks in chapter 12 of his gospel. The answer? No one, but the disciples. Everyone else had seen the signs, the miracles, and had rejected him.

Verses 2 and 3 are the description of the Lord Jesus’ life. A few years ago there was a BBC programme called ‘Son of God.’ They tried to piece together what Jesus would have looked like. Here’s what they came up with - a broad face and large nose... olive-coloured, swarthy skin, short, curly hair and a short cropped beard. Or in other words, just like every other Jewish man of the time.

Forget the images of Jesus with a halo around his head, so everyone knew who he was. He looked like everyone else, nothing special. No beauty or majesty to attract us to him. It wasn’t that he was the 1st century equivalent of a movie star or pop star that everyone wanted to look at and be like. Rather, he was despised and rejected; a man of sorrows, familiar with suffering. Despised, and we esteemed him not.

Think of someone you try not to see as you walk up the town in Enniskillen. Someone you try to avoid. That’s how people thought of Jesus. They didn’t want to know him.

And then we get to the centre (the cheese section of the sandwich). Here we have the heart of the cross. Do you see the initial misunderstanding of verse 4?

‘Surely he took up our infirmities and carried our sorrows, yet we considered him stricken by God, smitten by him and afflicted.’ Jesus took up our infirmities, he was carrying our sorrows. That’s what he was doing, hearing our burdens. But that’s not what the people saw that day. They instead thought that he was stricken by God, smitten and afflicted. They could only see the God-forsaken cursed one.

But. But look - do you see why Jesus died on the cross? ‘But he was pierced for our transgressions, he was crushed for our iniquities; the punishment that brought us peace was upon him, and by his wounds we are healed.’ Why did Jesus die? For us.

Do you see what Jesus died for? It was our transgressions and our iniquities. Those are two words for sin - the wrong things we’ve done, and the right things we haven’t done. To return to the Garden of Eden again - when Adam and Eve sinned, they didn’t die that day, but one day they would die. But what their sin brought immediately was separation from God. They were removed from the Garden. They were cut off from God.

Jesus takes our sins, and was pierced for them. He was crushed for our iniquities. He didn’t deserve to die, but he died in our place, for our sins. He gives us peace because he took the punishment; by his wounds we are healed.

It’s like being out for a meal, and you go to pay. But someone has already settled your account. The bill has been paid in full. You can’t pay any more. Someone else has made the payment on your behalf. So is this true of you?
Are you included in this ‘our’? Can you truly say tonight that he was pierced for MY transgressions? If you can, rejoice! The price is paid. If not, then please don’t leave tonight without speaking to Colin or myself, and making sure that your sins are covered, forgiven, the price paid.

Maybe you think that you’re not really that bad. Or at least, not as bad as Mr So-and-so. Verse 6 pictures us as sheep. As I arrived at one house to do a Home Communion this week, I had to say, did you know there are a couple of lambs out on the lane? We’re sheep because, we all have gone astray. We’ve wandered from the fold, and turned to our own way. (Isn’t that the heart of sin, going our own way, rather than God’s way?).

We might be like sheep but Jesus is the lamb who has taken our iniquity. More than that, as we go into the next section, back out the other side, Jesus is the lamb led to the slaughter, silent, uncomplaining, willing. Even when he was oppressed and afflicted, he didn’t retaliate, didn’t answer back, he took it.

Who can speak of his descendants? Well, it seems no one, because he was cut off from the land of the living. He was stricken. Put in an early grave, a borrowed grave - died with the wicked, buried in a rich man’s tomb. The Lord Jesus deserved none of this. He had done no violence, nor was any deceit in his mouth. So why did it happen?

Well, as we come to the final section, we discover what the cross achieved, as we hear again from God. First of all, God’s will - ‘Yet it was the Lord’s will to crush him and cause him to suffer...’ The cross wasn’t just a plan concocted by Pilate and the Jewish religious leaders. They had a hand in it, they acted freely to try to destroy Jesus, they certainly opposed him. But alongside, and through their evil actions, God’s will was also being accomplished.

As the believers say in Acts 4 ‘Indeed Herod and Pontius Pilate met together with the Gentiles and the people of Israel in this city to conspire against your holy servant Jesus... They did what your power and will had decided beforehand should happen.’ (Acts 4:27-28). They did it, but they were bringing about God’s will for Jesus to die. Why? ‘And though the Lord makes his life a guilt offering, he will see his offspring and prolong his days, and the will of the Lord will prosper in his hand.’

This sacrificial death of the suffering servant isn’t the end of the story. Earlier we asked, Who can speak of his descendants? Look around you! He will see his offspring. Even here, the promise of the resurrection is included. The sufferings and the subsequent glories (as Peter said).

Verse 11: ‘After the suffering of his soul, he will see the light of life and be satisfied; by his knowledge my righteous servant will justify many, and he will bear their iniquities.’ It’s in knowing Christ that we are justified by him, our iniquities borne away.

And it’s because Jesus has done these things, that verse 12 comes. Again, it’s God speaking. ‘Therefore I will give him a portion among the great, and he will divide the spoils with the strong, because he poured out his life unto death, and was numbered with the transgressors. For he bore the sin of many, and made intercession for the transgressors.’

A portion among the great - the highest place that heaven affords is his, is his by right. Just as verse 13 had already said - ‘he will be raised and lifted up and highly exalted.’

This morning an American pastor tweeted a cartoon strip. There are two men in it. One says, ‘I hate the term Good Friday.’ The other asks, why? So the first says, ‘My Lord was hanged on a tree that day.’ The other says, ‘If you were going to be hanged on that day, and he volunteered to take your place, how would you feel?’ The first thinks, and says, ‘Good.’ ‘Have a nice day’ is the other’s reply.

What’s so good about Good Friday? Jesus died for our transgressions. In my place condemned he stood. But Good Friday is not the end of the story. It’s Friday, but Sunday’s coming. Jesus has fulfilled the scripture - not just in his cross, but also in his resurrection. That’s why this is Good Friday.

This sermon was preached in Brookeborough Methodist Church on Good Friday 14th April 2017 in the Scripture Fulfilled series.

Sermon: Psalm 22 Scripture Fulfilled - The Suffering Saviour

God, where are you? Can you hear me? Will you answer me? Don’t you see? Don’t you care? I wonder if you’ve ever said words like these - or ever felt them in your heart. They’re the cries of the heartbroken. The sorrows of suffering. And as you go through the experience of suffering, it feels as if God has forsaken you. He doesn’t answer. He doesn’t act. You feel all alone.

Tonight, we hear the same words on the lips of Jesus. We see this forsakenness in the experience of the Son. And as we glimpse, through the darkness at the desolation, so we find our comfort and our hope through the forsaken one.

In Matthew 27:45-46, we read these words: ‘From the sixth hour until the ninth hour darkness came over al the land. About the ninth hour Jesus cried out with a loud voice, “Eloi, Eloi, lama sabachthani?” which means, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”’ That cry of Jesus is the first line of our Psalm this evening.

And as you scan the Psalm quickly, it’s clear that so many of the details match up with the events of the crucifixion. The mockery of verses 7&8. Bones out of joint, and on display of verses 14 and 17. The thirst of verse 15. The dividing and casting of lots for the clothing in verse 18.

If you had never read this Psalm before, you would probably think it was an eyewitness testimony written down on the day of the crucifixion; or a record of what the crucified one said - written down afterwards. But this isn’t a newspaper report from the Jerusalem Times the next day. This is a Psalm, part of the Old Testament, written down a thousand years before the crucifixion, written down (as the title reminds us) by David, the great-great-great-... grandfather of Jesus.

That’s why we’re looking at this Psalm tonight, in this week of weeks. You see, this week we’re recalling the words of Jesus on the first Easter evening: ‘Everything must be fulfilled that is written about me in the Law of Moses, the Prophets and the Psalms.’ (Luke 24:44). Jesus says that the whole Old Testament is about him, and points forward to his crucifixion and resurrection. So far, we’ve been in the Law of Moses - hearing the promise of the serpent crusher, who would defeat the power of the devil though wounded by him; and hearing how the redemption of the Israelite slaves from Egypt in the Passover points to Christ our Passover Lamb, where there is safety and redemption under his shed blood.

Tonight we turn to the Psalms, and Psalm 22 as it predicts (in the words of the apostle Peter) the ‘sufferings of Christ and the glories that would follow.’ (1 Pet 1:11). The sufferings are plain to see, front and centre, from the opening verse which is quoted by Jesus on the cross. By mentioning the first verse here, it seems as if Jesus is linking the whole Psalm to his experience of the cross. So what do we find in the Psalm? How do David’s words tell of his experience? And what does it tell us of Jesus’ sufferings?

You’ll notice that the Psalm switches from David speaking of himself, to addressing God - particularly with the ‘yet’ (3, 9), and the but (6, 19). There are three sets of this pattern, with an increasing desperation each time.

Set one: The forsaken one (1-5). David asks that haunting question - ‘My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?’ There’s no answer to the question, which is the big problem. David cries out to God, by day, by night, but there’s no answer, he finds no rest.

He just can’t understand his experience - as he turns to address God directly in verse 3. ‘Yet you are enthroned as the Holy One...’ He reminds God of how God has always answered his peoples’ cries before - throughout their history, they trusted you delivered; they cried and were saved. They trusted and were not put to shame.

That word shame provokes the second set of the pattern. It begins in verse 6. ‘But I am a worm and not a man, scorned by everyone, despised by the people.’ They don’t just despise him, they also mock him. ‘He trusts in the Lord, let the Lord rescue him. Let him deliver him, since he delights in him.’

There’s a special suffering in being identified with the Lord. And the crowds at the foot of the cross used these very words as verbal blows on the crucified Jesus: ‘He trusts in God. Let God rescue him now if he wants him, for he said, “I am the Son of God.”’ (Matt 27:43).

These taunts are especially terrible because of the closeness of his relationship with God. We see this as he turns again to talk directly to God in verse 9: ‘Yet you brought me out of the womb; you made me trust in you, even at my mother’s breast... from my mother’s womb you have been my God.’ So because of this close relationship, this nearness we’ve always had, then verse 10: ‘Do not be far from me, for trouble is near and there is no one to help.’ You’ve always been near, God, but now you’re far and trouble is near. Help me!

As the pattern repeats again from verse 12, we see why there is no one to help. As David describes his suffering - whatever it was he was going through - he perfectly describes his greater son’s suffering on the cross. No one to help, because ‘Many bulls surround me; strong bulls of Bashan encircle me.’

It’s like the walker who had climbed over a gate when the farmer shouts at him, asking if he thinks he can run across the field in 9 seconds. Why, he replies, well, because the bull can do it in 10 seconds. One bull would be bad enough, but the people surrounding David are described as strong bulls encircling. Being surrounded by hostile people. As well as bulls, they are also described as roaring lions, mouths open wide against him.

Verse 14 paints a vivid picture of the position of the crucified - poured out like water; bones out of joint; heart turned to wax, melted within me. Add to that the dryness of mouth in verse 15 - remember that Jesus says in John 19:28 ‘I thirst.’ The dryness and dust of death is an apt picture of this longing.

The sufferings of the crucified one continue, though. Surrounded by dogs (not the well groomed Crufts type or your friendly pampered pooch at home, but more the wild pack dogs - another picture of the mob), the villains encircle - ‘they pierce my hands and my feet.’ Whatever David had experienced, he again gets the details of the crucifixion of Jesus spot on. (Crucifixion hadn’t even been invented when David wrote this Psalm).

Hands and feet pierced, stretched out on the cross, all his bones are on display, people staring and gloating. And then the ultimate humiliation. ‘They divide my clothes among them and cast lots for my garment.’ John 19:23-24 describes how this happened - the four soldiers in the group each getting a share, and his seamless tunic going to the winner of the cast lots.

In his death, Jesus had nothing. On Monday evening, we didn’t pick up on it, but as God sent Adam and Eve out of the garden, he replaced their fig leaf coverings with clothes of animal skins. An animal died to provide them with covering. We will one day be clothed in the white robes of righteousness - provided for us by the Christ who hung on the cross naked. He was stripped so that we could be clothed and covered.

The sufferings of Christ, foretold in great detail, and fulfilled in every detail. In verse 19, he turns again to speak directly to God: ‘But you, Lord, do not be far from me. You are my strength; come quickly to help me.’

Even in the depths of despair, and the sorrow of suffering, still there is trust. Still there is the cry for help. Do you see it there in verse 20? ‘Deliver me from the sword, my precious life from the power of the dogs. Rescue me from the mouth of the lions.’

Now the next line of the pew Bibles continues that pleading - ‘save me from the horns of the wild oxen.’ Another ask. But you might see that there’s also a footnote, an alternative wording - and all the commentators agree, the proper wording. Let me give you verse 21 in the Hebrew word order: ‘Rescue me from the mouth of the lions; from the horns of the wild oxen you have heard me.’

It’s such a sudden change that the NIV translators almost couldn’t believe it. But this is what David wrote - that suddenly, from the horns of the wild oxen, God had indeed heard, and answered (as verse 2 had asked). The sufferings are complete, and the glories are ushered in. That’s what the rest of the Psalm shows us. And it’s what Jesus was pointing to as he quoted Psalm 22:1 - not just his sufferings, but also his glories.

Verses 22-25 continue the pattern, because we’re back to ‘I’ again - but this time, it is the Christ’s experience of celebration: ‘I will declare your name to my people; in the assembly I will praise you.’

His suffering has finished, he declares God’s name and praise, along with his people - the people he has brought near through his suffering.

Why is there such praise? ‘For he has not despised or scorned the suffering of the afflicted one; he has not hidden his face from him but has listened to his cry for help.’ The suffering complete, Jesus returns to the Father, raised by his mighty power on that first Easter morning.

The glories spread even further, to the ends of the earth in verse 27. Jesus sends his disciples - sends us, to all nations, and to all generations, bringing the good news of the Jesus who suffered and was raised, who now reigns over all. Look at verse 31. Even though he couldn’t even have imagined that there would be an island called Ireland, and on it a place called Brookeborough, and that three thousand years after he wrote these words, here we would be reading them, and rejoicing in the suffering Son they pointed forward to, yet David writes about us: ‘They will proclaim his righteousness, declaring to a people yet unborn.’

David couldn’t have imagined that we would be the fulfilling of that last verse; but neither could he have realised just how this Psalm of his could so accurately describe the sufferings of Christ and the glories that followed. So how did he do it? It was only by the Spirit of God - as Peter says, ‘men spoke from God as they were carried along by the Holy Spirit’ (2 Pet 1:21).

The Spirit guided David to write what he wrote, to show that God is in control, in every detail. The death of Jesus was no accident, it wasn’t a big disaster that happened outside of God’s control. No, as Jesus says, ‘everything written about me must be fulfilled.’ He knew what was coming in advance. It’s why he sweat drops of blood, why he agonised in the garden, and why he finally prayed ‘not my will, but yours be done.’

As the writer to the Hebrews urges us: ‘Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy set before him endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God.’ (Heb 12:2)

Jesus endured the cross, and scorned its shame. Jesus was stripped so that we could be clothed in his righteousness. Jesus died alone so that we could be welcomed into the great assembly of all his people. Jesus was forsaken so that we never would be forsaken. As Hebrews assures us: ‘God has said, “Never will I leave you; never will I forsake you.”’ (Heb 13:5)

This sermon was preached in Brookeborough Methodist Church on Wednesday 12th April 2017 at the Scripture Fulfilled series in Holy Week.

Sermon: Genesis 3: 15 Scripture Fulfilled - The Serpent Crusher

“If you don’t want to know the scores, then please look away now.” Those are the words the newsreader says on Saturday night, just before they report on the football. It’s so that someone who hasn’t heard how their team has done can watch Match of the Day without knowing the end result in advance. But as we gather at the start of this Holy Week, we already know the end result. Jesus, who was crucified on the first Good Friday, was also raised to life on the first Easter Sunday.

And it’s helpful to know that, and helpful to remember the events of that first Easter Day as we begin our special series this week. Do you remember the two disappointed disciples, walking home from Jerusalem to the village of Emmaus? A stranger catches up with them, asks what they’re talking about, and they can’t believe he hasn’t heard of all that had happened in the city. They had hoped that Jesus was going to redeem Israel. But their hopes were dashed. He had died on a cross. And surely that was the end. There were rumours flying about that his tomb was empty, but they had given up, and gone home.

The stranger then says, ‘How foolish you are, and how slow of heart to believe all that the prophets have spoken! Did not the Christ have to suffer these things and then enter his glory?’ He then begins with Moses and the Prophets, explaining ‘what was said in all the Scriptures concerning himself.’ The stranger was Jesus, and he gave them a big Bible study of how the Old Testament talks of him and points to him.

Having recognised him as he broke the bread, they set off back to Jerusalem in the dark, along the seven miles, to share the good news with the disciples. Then Jesus stands among them, risen, alive, and he reminds them of what he told them before his death: ‘Everything must be fulfilled that is written about me in the Law of Moses, the Prophets and the Psalms.’

That’s our purpose this week - to see how the Old Testament scriptures about Jesus’ death are fulfilled. Now, we’ll not cover all of them - we won’t get near the ‘everything written about me’. But we’ll pick out some of the main passages and see how they point us to Christ’s cross.

Tonight, we start at the beginning - a very good place to start. In our reading tonight we have the protevangelium - the first declaration of the gospel, the first signpost to the cross, from within the Garden of Eden.

Eden was the place of perfect paradise, where Adam and Eve walked with God, and ruled the creation under him. It’s hard for us to imagine just how perfect it was, because we’re so used to the world as we know it now. But any time you despair of shattered dreams, or disappointments, or groan under suffering, sickness or sadness or regret strained relationships, you’re longing for the Eden experience.

Adam and Eve had it all, and yet how quickly they lost it. From Paradise to Paradise Lost in a matter of verses. So how did it happen? Behind it all was the serpent. You’ll see that here in Genesis, we’re just introduced to the serpent without any explanation. But in Revelation 12 and 20, the devil is described as ‘that ancient serpent’. So here in Eden is the devil, Satan.

‘Now the serpent was more crafty than any of the wild animals the LORD God had made.’ His craftiness comes out in the way he talks to Eve.

‘Did God really say, “You must not eat from any tree in the garden?”’ He’s challenging God’s word, seeking to undermine it, causing doubt. So when Eve says that they can’t eat from (or touch) the tree in the middle of the garden or they will die, the serpent strikes straight back: ‘You will not surely die. For God knows that when you eat of it your eyes will be opened, and you will be like God, knowing good and evil.’

Do you see what he’s doing? Challenging, and now denying God’s word. He’s trying to convince her that God is holding something back, that God is not really good. That you can’t really trust God.

Her desire is stirred: ‘When the woman saw that the fruit of the tree was good for food and pleasing to the eye, and also desirable for gaining wisdom, she took some and ate it. She also gave some to her husband, who was with her, and he ate.’

The serpent had persuaded her, and tempted her, and deceived her. As Adam and Eve bit into the fruit, they realised they were naked. Guilt and shame were felt for the first time in the world. They had to cover up, fashioned in fig leaves, and then started the first ever game of hide and seek.

The story goes of a minister out visiting, and he rang a door. He had the sense someone was inside, so he wrote a Bible reference on the back of his card - Revelation 3:20. Behold, I stand at the door and knock... The next Sunday, the lady slipped him a piece of paper with a Bible reference on it - Genesis 3:10. ‘I heard you in the garden, and I was afraid because I was naked; so I hid.’

Adam and Eve hid themselves from God. It wasn’t that God went missing and Adam and Eve had to go and find him, and that we still are on a search for God. No, it’s us who have gone into hiding. But still God comes looking for us, asking ‘Where are you?’

Perhaps you’re hiding from God tonight. You’re here, but you’re hiding, not really engaged. God comes to meet us where we are; comes to speak tenderly with us.

God asks them why they’re hiding. ‘Who told you that you were naked? Have you eaten from the tree that I commanded you not to eat from?’ And it’s here that the blame game starts. Adam blamed Eve, Eve blamed the serpent, and the serpent didn’t have a leg to stand on!

But do you see how sin brings shame and blame? It’s not really my fault, God - it’s because of someone else; or because of my circumstances; or even because of you, God, you made me do it because of how you made me and what you gave me. ‘The woman you put here with me...’ It’s always someone else’s fault.

In the very place where there was blessing, and perfection, God’s good creation has been marred, spoiled, ruined. It’s like the painting of Jesus on a church wall in Spain a few years ago - that a lady attempted to improve and totally destroyed it. Or it’s like someone who has worked for ages building a model ship out of matchsticks, only for their toddler to destroy.

God has to judge their sin, their refusal to trust him, their disobedience of his word. But even as he declares judgement in the form of curse, there is mercy and grace. God could have wiped them out immediately. One day they would die, but it wasn’t that day.

The curse includes pain in childbirth for the woman and thorns and thistles in work for the man, but it’s in the curse on the serpent that we find the promise of the cross. ‘I will put enmity between you and the woman, and between your offspring and hers; he will crush your head, and you will strike his heel.’ (15)

God declares to the serpent that there will be enmity, opposition, hostility between the serpent and the woman; between his offspring and hers; but do you see how it changes at the end?

It’s no longer between the serpent and the woman, nor their respective offspring. This time it’s personal - between her offspring and ‘you’. God declares to the serpent that at some point in the future, the woman’s offspring will do battle with him. There will be a decisive victory.

This is why we see the children of Israel so often being oppressed throughout the Old Testament. The serpent is each time trying to prevent the offspring of the woman from being born - whether it’s the baby boys being thrown into the Nile by the Egyptians; or the slaughter planned by Haman in the days of Esther; or Herod’s killing of the baby boys under two in Bethlehem - the serpent is trying to destroy the offspring before this ultimate battle comes.

That ultimate battle comes on the cross. Let’s think of it in the words of verse 15. (And I hope you don’t have ophidiophobia - the fear of snakes). Picture the two things happening at the same moment - as a man stands on a snake’s head, it bites him in the heel. ‘He will crush your head, and you will strike his heel.’

The serpent lands a blow on Jesus. He strikes his heel - he brings about Jesus’ death. But Jesus rises from that death to live again. The serpent’s blow is fatal, his head is crushed. William Williams, the Welsh hymnwriter most famous for ‘Guide me O thou great Redeemer’ puts it this way:

‘Bruised was the dragon by the Son,
though two had wounds, there conquered one,
and Jesus was his name.’

As the writer to the Hebrews puts it, ‘Since therefore the children share in flesh and blood, he himself likewise partook of the same things, that through death he might destroy the one who has the power of death, that is, the devil.’ (2:14).

As far back as the Garden of Eden and Genesis 3, God points forward to the cross, and proclaims that the serpent will be defeated by the offspring of the woman, the serpent-crusher. And so, from Genesis onwards, the search is on for this promised one, the one who would defeat the devil, the one who would bring freedom for his people.

Perhaps tonight, you’re under the weight of your sin. You’ve been deceived by the devil, you feel yourself trapped and enslaved by him. Your shame shouts aloud. Your guilt goes before you. Look again to the cross. In Jesus’ death, he has defeated the devil, he has crushed his head.

And listen to the promise that Paul gives to the Christians in Rome, and to us as well: ‘The God of peace will soon crush Satan under your feet. The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ be with you.’ The devil’s days are numbered, and his defeat is sure because of the cross. We can look forward, not to Eden restored, but to the new heavens and the new earth, where nothing unclean or impure can dwell. The scripture has been fulfilled. The serpent crusher has come, and has won.

This sermon was preached in Brookeborough Methodist Church on Monday 10th April 2017 in the Scripture Fulfilled series of Holy Week services.