When God Surrenders

When God Surrenders--March 29, 2019

"When the ten heard this they began to be angry with James and John. So Jesus called them and said to them, 'You know that among the Gentiles those whom they recognize as their rulers lord it over them, and their great ones are tyrants over them. But it is not so among you; but whoever wishes to become great among you must be your servant, and whoever wish to be first among you must be slave of all. For the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life a ransom for many." [Mark 10:41-45]

"We do NOT negotiate with terrorists."

I have heard that line so many times, in so many different action and suspense thrillers, in film and books and TV shows, that it seems cliché now.  We have all heard that storyline before. We have all watched that movie.  The villains take hostages, and then make demands (money, helicopter, etc.) for their release, and the side of Law and Order balks at those demands, or only uses talk about meeting them to stall while they come up with a "real" plan. Instead, the good guys invariably assemble a strike team to mount a secret rescue operation to get the hostages out and take out the bad guys, because, as one of the head good-guys seems required by law to say, "It is the policy of the U.S. Government NOT to negotiate with terrorists."

And because it is all happening in the fantasy world of the screen or the printed page, usually the strike team accomplishes its mission, frees the captives with minimal casualties, and gets the bad guys with extreme prejudice.  A clear-cut victory for the powers of good, and a clear and humiliating loss for the bad guys.  And all perfectly timed as you finish your last bites of butter-saturated popcorn. 

Now, whether or not it really is someone's official policy not to negotiate with terrorists and not to pay ransoms to kidnappers, you at least can understand why that would be someone's policy.  The argument--in the movies and in real life--goes something like this: you can't give into the kidnapper's demands, or else you'll embolden future hostage-takers and create more victims.  You can't legitimize criminals by agreeing to their terms, and you certainly can't expect them to keep their word.  And beneath all of this good, solid, well-reasoned strategic thinking is this underlying assumption: you don't give in to ransom demands because it makes you look weak.  

And sure, it stands to reason. If the villains think they can get away with their wicked deeds, they'll do it again and walk all over you.  Looking strong makes your enemies fear you, and if you give in to the demands of hostage-takers and kidnappers, they won't fear you.  They may give you back your loved ones (it is in their best interests to do so, if they get paid, at least), you will have lost your reputation as the "tough" one.  So in the movies and books and everywhere else, it has become a sort of unquestionable principle that good guys--at least real, tough, strong, non-wimpy good guys--do not negotiate with terrorists, for fear of losing face, losing their absolute right-ness, and legitimizing evil, and losing their reputation so that more hostages could be taken next time.  

I get it. I get that whole line of thinking.  I grew up on those plot-lines, whether was Harrison Ford stalking the hijackers on Air Force One, a Tom Clancy novel turned movie (often also involving Harrison Ford, honestly), or Bruce Willis in one of many Die Hard movies (boy, that guy had some bad luck, didn't he?).  There is a certain logic to declaring--and maintaining--the policy of not negotiating with terrorists so as not to suffer a loss of face or damage to your reputation, even if it is a cold logic.

And yet--and this blows my mind to actually think about it--Jesus seems to see himself in exactly those terms: as God's ransom that secures our release.  Unpack that just a little bit with me for a moment.  It is the Gospel's claim that in Jesus we have none other than God-in-the-flesh with us.  And this same Jesus is offered up--or even offers himself up--as the ransom which secures the release of "the many."  God surrenders.  God doesn't even bother to negotiate or bargain down for something lesser than the immediate demands.  God surrenders to the demands of the hostage-takers and bad guys... and in Jesus, God's own life gets offered up as a ransom.  Jesus doesn't even blush to say it.  In fact, he says it is why he has come.

Doesn't God know?  Hasn't God seen the same action movies we have?  Didn't anybody give God the lecture that you look "weak" if you give into the demands of hostage-takers?  Didn't anyone take God aside and say that God will lose face and seem like a "loser" if the ransom is paid?  And doesn't God know that the really respectable heroes are the ones who scoff at the kidnappers' demands and go it with guns blazing to take out the bad guys and save the victims?

In a word, yes.  God knows it all. And nobody had to say it on a TV screen for God to understand all of that well.  It's just... you were more important to God than God's reputation. Period.  End of sentence.

The logic of the movies is that if you give in to the demands of the bad guys and pay the ransom, you're committing the cardinal sin of looking like a loser, and the fear is that they'll walk all over you all over again and take something even more valuable next time.  But the logic of the cross is that there is no commodity, no treasure, and no reputation more important than you.  God surrendered God's own reputation as the divine Almighty, All-Powerful Lord of the Universe in order to rescue you.  And to hear the rest of the Scriptures tell it, God has never regretted that choice.  You were worth it.  You still are.

This is the heart of the Christian gospel, really--that there is no cost God would not (and did not) bear for the sake of this beloved world.  God was willing, not only to lose it all, but to lose everything publicly in what that same watching world would call "surrender."  God was willing to be mocked by the very world God was in the act of saving, and God was willing to have that damage done to the divine reputation.  Because from God's perspective, a ransom is worth paying if you value the thing (or the ones) held hostage more than you value the money you pay or the cost to your respectability after you pay it.

The loud voices of our culture have a very hard time with this kind of thing.  The loud voices around us--the blowhards who bellow at podiums, the talking heads who give commentary on TV, and the action-movie screenwriters as well--they talk about how the only thing that matters is winning, and looking like a winner.  They talk about how important it is to be seen as victorious (even if you are not) and how you must deny anything that makes you look weak (even if it is true).  The conventional wisdom around us is so afraid of looking like a "loser" that it could never do the courageous thing that God does at the cross--to surrender in order to gain a world held captive in the grip of death.  To be very honest here, we would never have approved the Gospel as a screenplay--there are no heroics where the strike team goes in to shoot the captors and march out as the triumphant heroes. Yes, there is resurrection that comes on the other side of the cross, but it happens while the world is still asleep and the powers of the day are taking their victory lap, smugly bragging about how they killed the troublemaking rabbi.  And at least as Jesus describes his mission here in Mark's Gospel, there is only this scandalous scene of surrender, where the ransom is paid and God takes a very public loss on the nose.

But that is also the evidence of how deeply you are beloved by this same God.  The only reason you pay a ransom, after all, is if you value what is held captive more than you value the ransom money.  That's why the bad guys don't kidnap your enemy or a random stranger, but someone you love dearly--it's the only way they can get a payday. And if Jesus is convinced that he is the ransom, he--the one in whom God dwells in a human life--then there seems to be no other conclusion but that God loves you more than God's own life, God's own reputation, and God's own status as a "winner."

God loves you more than winning.  God loves you more than looking "strong" or "tough" or "great."  God loves you more than living.  That is why, despite the logic of all those action-movies, God in Christ chooses to surrender and lay down his own life as a ransom... for you.

Be careful--if you let that idea sink in at all, it will turn upside down all your old notions of whether it matters to look like you are "winning," to look like you are "tough," or to be called "great."  But Jesus sure is convinced you--and this whole blessed, broken world--were worth it.

Lord Jesus, turn our minds upside down with your way of winning through loss and saving through surrender. And let that change everything else in our lives, too.