The Lamb

As Passover approached, everyone’s thoughts naturally turned back to that first Passover. A time when Israel had been oppressed and held captive by the then world power – Egypt. A time when a man had arisen who understood power and majesty and who had led the people out. A time when the ruler of that world had turned away from compassion and had hardened his heart until the enemy of our souls had him in his thrall. A time when that Pharaoh had sent the army to destroy God’s people. And a time when faith was demonstrated through the sacrifice of a lamb, which, in its innocence, took away the sin of the people.

And they naturally projected that scene onto their present circumstances: Israel, oppressed by the current world power – the Roman Empire, but with the hope of one who wielded power, one who the people had rallied to in their tens of thousands.

Easy for Peter and the others to cast the Romans into the role of the Egyptian enslavers with Herod, or Pilate, or even the Emperor into the role of Pharaoh. Easy then, to see Jesus as the new Moses, about to lead the people out of captivity in a dramatic showdown. Easy to think, as Jesus invites them to go and pray, that this night marks the beginning of the revolution.

They’ve shared the Passover meal, redolent with all these memories. Jesus has commissioned Judas to go and ‘make the preparations’ and now they are going to pray, to seek God’s blessing for the conquest that lies ahead. So, Peter straps on his sword and even though he is tired from the lateness of the hour, and a little drunk from all the wine, his confidence is high, his own words ringing in his ears: “I will never betray you, I will die before I allow you to be taken”

And here comes Judas, leading the first cohort of troops to receive Jesus’ commands. After all the waiting, the time was now. Peter felt the adrenaline begin to pump, proud that he should be such a central figure in the story, and about to speak some words of greeting as Judas kissed Jesus as an act of respect and affection.

But then confusion. The soldiers were grabbing at Jesus, not to slap him on the back as he first thought, but to arrest him. And Judas was mumbling accusations, not words of respect. Unsure as to what was happening, unclear as the rage of disappointment swept over him, Peter took out his sword and unleashed a blow at the nearest man. But in the heady mix of anger, adrenaline and alcohol, he missed his target, and instead of decapitating his enemy, he merely nicked his ear. Peter’s world fragmented. Vaguely he watched Jesus reach out his hand, firstly to stop him from using his sword again, and then to heal the man’s ear.

He heard nothing else, saw nothing else. Without knowing how, he found himself in the square, drawing near to the fire. In the half-light, a serving girl asked him if he knew the man that had just been arrested. From the bottom of his heart, he told the simple truth. “No, I never knew him”. And more lonely than he had ever been before, he turned into the night.

The truth is that the real oppressor was never Egypt or Pharaoh or Rome or the Pilate. The truth is the real oppressor is never that person or that situation. Of course, people and circumstances can be used to oppress, but the oppressor is the enemy of our souls. No matter how willingly people cooperate, he is there behind the scenes, pulling strings.

And the truth is that Moses was never the rescuer. Of course, he was used of God, despite his failings, but ultimately our rescuer isn’t that friend, isn’t that loved one, it is God. And no matter how much power appears to be needed to set us free, ultimately it isn’t by power, nor by might, but by God’s spirit that we are set free.

But how often we fight the people, how often we rail against the circumstances, instead of taking the battle to the source of our oppression. How often we look to people, to power to rescue us. How often we see the play and misread the cast, misplace the real star of the show.

The star of that first Passover wasn’t Pharaoh, wasn’t Moses, wasn’t the Angel of Death. It was the Lamb. When we are dazzled by the false stars, our world falls apart, just as surely as did Peter’s. He was right to see this new situation as a fulfilment of that first Passover and if only he had taken the trouble to read it properly he would have been spared so much pain.

Judas was the type of Pharaoh. He, like the tyrant before him, had lived with the light and rejected it. Pharaoh had grown up with Moses, had heard the stories of Israel, had had the light of God to illuminate him. And even when confronted by God’s power, refused to believe that God was who He revealed himself to be. Just like Judas, who had Jesus with him for three years, revealing the true character of God, seeing his power, but refusing to bend to who God really was, hardening his heart, until, like Pharaoh, Satan enters him completely. And just as Pharaoh sent the army to hunt down Israel, so Judas brings the army to hunt down Jesus.

And Peter was Moses. A man convinced that because God is powerful, that victory must be by power. A man who persistently refused to accept a different revelation of God. Moses had a personal revelation of God at a bush that refused to burn. Peter a spirit inspired revelation “you are the Christ, the son of the living God” Moses, nonetheless insisted on the dramatic power encounters, striking rocks for water when God had said to speak. And Peter, on the back of his revelation had boasted about his willingness to die rather than to allow Jesus to be the suffering servant that he had declared himself to be. For Moses and Peter, failing to know God would, unnecessarily, lead to the blackest of despair.

Yet it was for that central role that Jesus had come. The role of the Lamb. The innocent one, emptying himself of power. The sinless, spotless one, willingly becoming sin for our sake. Strip away the bravado, strip away the naked ambition, strip away the sleight of hand that distracts from the real action. Here it is. Here is the real story, the real star. Don’t be misled, don’t be impressed by the lights, the noise, the special effects. Don’t rush to equate the wrong characters with the starring roles.

It’s the Lamb. It was always the Lamb.

And when you see that, everything changes. No longer are we impressed by human power, no longer do we waste our energy fighting the system or those that impose it. No longer do we compare our inadequacy with the giants before us, no longer are we wearied by the disappointments of flawed people.

Instead, we see the Lamb, calmly, yet with more strength than the most powerful man, walking resolutely to a cross. We see innocence utterly disfigured, life irreversibly slaughtered. And louder than the bully’s words, louder than the demon’s roar, we hear the whispered final breath: “Father forgive them”.

It’s the Lamb. It will always be the Lamb.