The Cross in the Time of COVID

Numbers 20-21, John 3:15-17

(Note: I originally preached this message in a church in Florida during the COVID-19 pandemic. At the time, we were living with a very particular kind of fear—fear of illness, isolation, death, and a future none of us could clearly see.

Looking back, however, I believe the message speaks to something larger than the pandemic that gave rise to it. Every generation faces its own forms of fear, uncertainty, suffering, and disruption. COVID has receded, but the questions it forced upon us remain: Where do we look when the things we have trusted begin to fail? What does faith mean when we cannot control what is happening around us? And what does the Cross reveal about God in the midst of our suffering?

The Cross is not merely an answer to a question about what happens after we die. It reveals something about the character of God and the way of life Jesus calls us to embrace here and now.

That is why I have chosen to preserve this sermon as an article in the Magazine. It belongs to a particular moment in history, but its message is not confined to that moment. The circumstances have changed. The Cross has not.)

After their exodus from Egypt, Israel journeyed toward the Promised Land. In Numbers 20:1, they arrived in the Desert of Zin, in the northeastern part of the Sinai Peninsula, east of the lower Jordan Valley. They were now less than 150 miles from their destination. Yet those final miles would prove difficult.

Many things happened in the Desert of Zin, and the people grew weary and discouraged. Miriam, Moses’ sister, died there. She had been a faithful and loving leader and an adviser to Moses throughout their long journey. Perhaps the Israelites were also grieving because she would not live to see Israel enter the Promised Land.

Then opposition arose. The people quarreled with Moses (vv. 2–3). They had been wandering through the deserts of the Sinai Peninsula for almost forty years. Many of their friends and family members had died along the way. They had endured thirst, hunger, and attacks from their enemies. Now they were exhausted.

“If only we had died like the others,” they complained to Moses. “Why did you bring us here? This is a terrible place. There is no grain, no figs, no grapevines, no pomegranates—and no water.”

Then King Arad, who lived in the Negev, heard that Israel was approaching and attacked them. Although they seemed to face opposition at every turn, Israel defeated King Arad.

But then Aaron died.

They were so close to the Promised Land, yet it must have seemed so far away. The journey had already been long and difficult, and the road ahead appeared to be even harder.

Because of their complaining, the Lord sent venomous snakes among the people, and many were bitten and died (Numbers 21:4–9). The people came to Moses and confessed, “We sinned against the Lord and against you. Pray that the Lord will take the snakes away from us.”

Moses prayed, and the Lord told him, “Make a bronze serpent and put it up on a pole. Anyone who is bitten can look at it and live.”

To be saved from death and healed, the people had to look upon the very image of the thing that had caused their suffering: the serpent. They had to look directly at what had brought death and suffering into their midst. They had to face their own sin. Their sin was complaining, but it was more than complaining. They wanted to go back to Egypt—to slavery. They wanted to go back to the way things had been.

It is a terrible mistake to confuse former bondage with God’s plan for life. There was no healing in going back to the way things were. There was no salvation in the past and no Promised Land in the past. The Promised Land was ahead of them. To return to the past would mean believing that God had been pleased with what they had left behind—that their bitter slavery had not really been suffering at all, but somehow represented God’s will for them. Their sin was imagining that the future was supposed to look like the past.

When they looked at the serpent lifted upon the pole, they confronted that sin. They repented. They turned their backs on the past and looked to the Lord to lead them into the future.

They were healed when they looked upon the serpent and confronted their longing to return to what they had left behind.

There is a remarkable reference to this story in John 3:14–17. Jesus said to Nicodemus: “Just as Moses lifted up the snake in the wilderness, so the Son of Man must be lifted up, that everyone who believes may have eternal life.”

Jesus, the Son of Man, was lifted up on a cross. Those who look to Him are saved. Jesus invited Nicodemus to see the cross in the same light as Israel had seen the serpent in the wilderness: look upon the Son of Man, lifted up, and live.

John continues:

“For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life.”

And then comes the explanation: “For God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world, but to save the world through him.” What is important is that we look at the cross—and look honestly at the reason Jesus suffered and died there.

It was because of us, and it was for us. Jesus died so that we might have a better future. Like ancient Israel, we look up to the cross of Jesus and are saved.

Looking at the Cross Today

It is useful to consider this story in light of our own situation. Allow me to describe what I am feeling. Perhaps you are feeling and thinking some of the same things. Let’s face it: there is plenty to complain about.

I am tired of staying home because of this virus and of being frightened that I might get it. I responsibly wear a mask—I hope you do, too—and gloves. I try to keep my distance from people, both to protect them from me and to protect myself from them.

But I am tired of it.

Aren’t you?

Don’t we all want to get out and do the things we used to do? Don’t we want to go to church like we did before, travel like we did before, and gather with others for fellowship like we did before?

In June, my granddaughter missed her high school graduation. Now her college classes cannot always meet in person. It will not be a normal school year for my grandson when high school students return in the fall with remote learning. He misses his friends. Church ministry is different. We do not know when “normal” will return.

Sports are different. Travel is different. Going to the movies and eating out are different. So much has changed that we naturally long for things to return to the way they were.

But perhaps this is a moment like the moment Israel faced in the Desert of Zin. Their circumstances had overwhelmed them. They were weary, frightened, and discouraged. And their temptation was to look backward—to imagine that returning to the way things had been was the way forward.

It was not.

And neither is it for us. This moment gives us an opportunity to look at the cross and confront the sin that put Jesus there.

I am certainly not saying that we caused the virus. I do not know what caused it. It is a virus.

But this moment has revealed something else. It has exposed issues in our society that we might otherwise have ignored. It has given us an opportunity to look honestly at ourselves, our communities, and the world in which we live.

Jesus was put upon the cross because of cruelty, hatred, prejudice, revenge, jealousy, anger, and much more. Jesus died for us—and because of the brokenness represented by these things. There is no healing in simply continuing what was.

There is no salvation in pretending that the past was better than it really was. There is salvation in a changed future. Besides, we cannot go back.

But we can repent of our longing to return to what was. We can look to the cross. We can ask Jesus to save us, heal us, and lead us toward the better future He has prepared for us.

Nicodemus and the Cross

There is a television series called *The Chosen*. Perhaps you have seen it. The series offers an interesting and enlightening depiction of Nicodemus. If you are like me, you may have assumed that the meeting between Jesus and Nicodemus recorded in John 3 was the whole story. Perhaps it happened that way. But the version presented in *The Chosen* offers another possibility.

Nicodemus was a Pharisee who loved God. His heart longed to know God. At the same time, he loved the traditions of the Pharisees, which had their roots in the Torah and the Old Testament prophets.

In his heart, however, he knew that his religion had become entangled with power and political influence rather than remaining centered on loving and serving God. It was a profound struggle for him to look upon Jesus—and later upon His cross—as the way of salvation.

If the cross meant anything, it meant humility. It meant resisting the temptation and lust for political power. And it meant placing our confidence in the transformational power of love.

That is why the cross is so important.

The cross does not restore the past.

The cross calls us into a new future.

The disciples themselves locked themselves away in fear after the crucifixion. But the resurrection brought a new day.

After His resurrection and ascension, the disciples gathered in an upper room, waiting as Jesus had instructed them. Then the coming of the Holy Spirit brought a new day—a new beginning that launched more than two thousand years of His presence and work in the world, a presence we still experience today.

The Bible promises a new day, a new song, a new heaven, and a new earth. All of that lies in the future. So let us pray for patience, endurance, hope, and faith as we wait for this virus to pass.

There is no question that this is a pivotal moment in history for the whole world. Irreversible change is happening.

Let’s not panic.

But let’s also not insist on returning to the way things were. Instead, let us look to Jesus, lifted upon the cross, and see in Him the model—and the hope—for our new future.