Hugo

Today, I was working in my garden and dug up the stumps of two small trees in the back yard. When my sisters and I grew up, we called the one on the right Hugo (his brother was Hector, I want to say? Hector was the neglected tree). Hugo often served as the home base for tag, the hiding spot for ghosts in the graveyard, and even the "ghost runner" for our perennial whiffle ball games. Hugo was badly damaged in a storm, and had to be cut down. As an arbor vitae tree, his name literally means "Tree of Life." And all while I was working, disassembling a part of my childhood, the only thing I could think was:

There has got to be some metaphor I can use this for on my blog.

But I couldn't find it.

But now that I shared a fun story, here's something else I've thought about recently. This is a somewhat shameful confession, but sometimes when I hear sermons in evangelical churches that always bring the whatever passage they're preaching back to the cross, and I'm a little incredulous. (I'm steeling myself for the metaphorical rocks all of you are about to stone me with). But seriously, when preaching through a genealogy in the book of Numbers, can you really read the crucifixion into it? When David was composing Psalm 23, was he really thinking about how Jesus would die for his sins? It seems to stretch the texts more than just a bit. And yet, I love to look at Old Testament typology (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Typology_(theology) ) and see how the institution of sacrifice models Christ's later saving work, how Joshua leads the Hebrews into the promised land where Moses, representing human attempt to follow the law, fails (and, that Joshua and Jesus actually have the same name? I'm geeking out over here). What's the difference?

While some sermons seem ad hoc to bring in the cross where it really doesn't appear (think about the dimensions of the Temple, for instance) I think the issue I have with sermons always coming back to the cross is that they mistake the cross as the entire story, rather than just the climax of the story. It would be akin to saying that Harry Potter killing Voldemort is a good summary of the Harry Potter series, or that the only important thing in Lord of the Rings is that the Ring was destroyed in Mount Doom (not tracking those series? You must have such a sad life). Likewise, what Christ accomplished on the cross is of central importance and without it, Christianity makes no sense. Yet it alone is not enough to make sense of our world or our God.

Without the Fall, the cross is unnecessary. Without the Law, the cross is confusing. Without Isaiah and the Babylonian Exile, the cross lacks anticipation. Without Hosea, Judges, or much of the OT, the cross is unmotivated. Without the resurrection, the cross is meaningless. As we look at the whole of Scripture, we see a grand overarching story that tells of a good creation, a human rebellion and a breach of faith, and a God who acts to redeem and restore a broken humanity. The whole history of the Bible, the bizarre institutions of the Old Testament, the craziness that is the book of Revelation all have a part in telling this story. The cross has a central part- but remember, it is only a part. It is the capstone of God's rescue plan, but not its entirety; the power of salvation, but not its completion (As Paul commands- work out your salvation, then in fear and trembling? Not that we work for our salvation, but that its effects and truth in our lives have not yet been completed).

At the end of the day, I really don't have an issue with sermons coming back to the cross. It puts the message in a familiar context and gives it relevance to the bigger picture. When done correctly, putting the message in terms of the cross puts it also in terms of God's grand scheme of redemption, of which the cross is the culmination. And that, I believe, is the first half of good preaching.