Executing a corpse

In the historic One Year Lectionary, this Fifth Sunday of Lent gets its name, Judica, from the Psalm for the day, Psalm 42. There we find the words, in Latin, " Judica me, Deus" — "Judge me, O God."

All of us sinners fear judgment, whether or not we're willing to admit that we even are sinners. It's something built into our very nature.

Paul tells us in Romans that the Law of God is written on the human heart. It became blurred and unclear in our hearts through the Fall. But as one of my college theology teachers put it, "Everybody is afraid of lightning." There is something deep down inside us that knows that we are accountable, and realizes that there will be consequences for not measuring up. Lutheran theologians call this "the First Use of the Law." It's active even in the lives of unbelievers, restraining them from living lives of total recklessness and carelessness toward their neighbor and even toward a God in Whom they may not believe.

This, like everything God does, is good. But it's warped by sin. Sometimes sin takes the form of ignoring conscience and doing things we know are wrong, or even denying that they are wrong. That causes the Law as written in our hearts to further fade and take even believers further and further from God.

But the consequences of sin are not only what happens as a result of what we, as individuals, do or don't do. Sin infects the entire human race- and, as Paul also observes in Romans, contaminates and warps all of creation. Sin- not any particular person's sin, and certainly not that of the victim, but the sin that infects the entire creation- is the reason for sickness and death. It's the reason why children get cancer and die. It's the reason why even believers are vulnerable to tragedy and suffering. It's the reason why tornados destroy cities. It's the reason for the COVID epidemic.

And it's the reason for OCD. It's also the reason why the natural and wholesome sense of accountability built into the human heart becomes distorted in we who suffer from it and becomes a pathological fear that ruins not only our relationship with God but lays waste to our lives.

We live, many of us, in continual and disproportionate fear of judgment. We know, intellectually, that we have a Savior in Jesus Who has atoned for our sins. But we cower in fear anyway, not from a lack of faith but because of a short-circuit in our brains.

We fear judgment- a judgment the Bible solemnly warns us again and again inevitably overtakes sin. And we know our sins all too well. In fact, we make sins up out of totally innocent things that God does not forbid because of that same short-circuit in our brains.

"For we must all appear before the judgment seat of Christ," Paul warns us,  "so that each one may receive what is due for what he has done in the body, whether good or evil" (2 Corinthians 5:10 ESV). People often say, "Only God can judge me." That should terrify them! None of us can stand in the face of what we are due for our sins. We who suffer from scrupulosity know that all too well! God doesn't "grade on the curve." He won't judge us based on whether our lives have been better or worse than average. A single sin is enough to condemn us. Before anyone is ready to hear the Gospel, they must understand that.

That knowledge is terrifying. It crushes us. Good! It's supposed to! And it's not merely bad news for you and me. It's bad news- the worst news- for the entire, fallen human race. As Paul says in Romans 3:23, "(F)or all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God."

 But it's not the last word.

When the baptized appear before the judgment seat of God, we will not stand there alone. Beside us will stand Jesus. We will have, indeed, been summoned before the judgment seat of God to receive what we have coming to us. But the late Arthur Carl Piepkorn points out that the word "justification" has an interesting history in the English language, which some argue also is echoed in Paul.

Piepkorn observes that ancient texts from England speak of the person who has been "justified with the sword." In other words, the body of an executed criminal, minus the head! Guilty as he may have been, there is nothing more the Law can do to him. Justice has been satisfied. Case closed!

And so it is with us, God does not- can not- simply ignore our sin. He is holy. But His justice has been satisfied. The sentence has been carried out- on Jesus.

He finds us guilty because we are. But there is nothing the Law can do to us. He has imputed our sins to Himself. God administered the sentence we deserved by proxy on Himself. We can no more be condemned for our sin than a beheaded corpse can be put to death!

Day after day, we reclaim our baptism when we repent and believe His promise of forgiveness. Our Old Self is put to death and buried with Christ.  Our New Self rises with Him. But unfortunately, our fallen nature is, as someone has said, "a good swimmer!" The process has to be repeated over and over and over as we daily claim the promise of baptism.

My father's family comes from Northern Ireland, and I'm rather fond of the Ulster Cycle, the oldest surviving piece of literature in the English language. It tells of the legendary Golden Age of Ulaid (Ulster) under King Conchobar mac Nessa, which supposedly coincided with the life of Christ. It's largely concerned with the exploits of Ireland's greatest warrior and hero, Cuchulain, and the other members of Conchobar's famous order of warrior knights, the Red Branch.

But my personal favorite among the heroes of the Red Branch isn't Cuchulain. It's Lóegaire the Victorious, who is something of a comic figure. Lóegaire is the third mightiest warrior in Ulster. In fact, he's the third-best at almost everything. He was the Irish Rodney Dangerfield; he "couldn't get no respect." He excelled at everything he attempted, but there were always two others who were better than he was. No matter what he did, he came in a distant third and didn't even get the diminished glory of being the runner-up.

Even his death was both heroic and at the same time comic. The enemies of Ulster were attacking! Lóegaire was taking a nap. But awakened by the commotion and realizing what was happening, he grabbed his sword and rushed out to join the fight.

But Lóegaire was a very tall man as well as a very strong one, and so fierce was his charge out the door that he ran smack-dab into the door's beam and killed himself! But he was so full of fight that he kept on going, killing two hundred enemy soldiers before he realized that he was dead.

And before God's judgment seat, our Old Self- crucified and buried with Christ and daily put to death and buried all over again, will finally realize that he is dead. He will plague us no more.  Jesus will interrupt the proceedings to say, "Father, this is a part of My body, the Church. This is one of My members. The sentence has already been carried out on Me. On ALL of Me!"

"You're right, My Son," the Father will say. "Next case!"

"There is therefore now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus," Paul tells us in Romans 8:1. The sentence for everything of which we are guilty has been carried out on Jesus- and that means on us, His members. We don't have to worry about being punished by God because there is no punishment left. Jesus has borne it in our place. God's justice has been satisfied, our Old Self is dead and buried with Christ- and even though we deserve death, you can't execute a corpse.

That doesn't mean that we won't continue to experience not only the normal and healthy sense of accountability everyone but psychopaths have, but unfortunately also those feelings of random and often inappropriate guilt that often come from that liar, OCD. But it does mean that there is no reason to listen to them. We can dismiss those feelings because God's justice has been satisfied. Judgment has been rendered, the sentence has been passed, and the sentence has already been carried out.

There is nothing more for us to be afraid of.

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