| The Christian Life | March 1947 |
A meditation on the closing days of Jesus’ ministry; and why Christians should commemorate his death
Like One of the Princes
“But ye shall die like men, and fall like one of the princes.”—Psalm 82:7
ONE of the “crimes” leveled against Jesus by his enemies, the scribes and Pharisees, was that he claimed to he the Son of God. This, they said, was blasphemy, and blasphemers should be put to death. On one occasion when being charged with this alleged offense against the Law, the Master cited that portion of our text which declares, “Ye are gods,” and said that it had reference to those to whom the Word of God came.—John 10:34-36
Prior to Christ’s coming, God’s people were merely servants; so this is evidently a prophecy relating to the Gospel age when, according to John 1:11,12, Jesus introduced his followers into sonship with his Father. Throughout the New Testament, therefore, we find this blessed truth concerning our being sons of God clearly set forth. (Heb. 3:6; I John 3:1,2) It is to these that the Word of God—both the written Word and the living Word—came at the beginning of the Gospel age.—Heb. 1:1,2
“Ye are gods,” the prophecy states—that is “mighty ones.” This is indeed the end to which we are called. To Jesus, our Captain, was given “all power in heaven and in earth”; and by the Father’s authority he has promised to bestow this power upon all the “mighty ones” who will share his rulership with him. (Rev. 2:26,27; 3:21) But promises of such high exaltation in the divine plan are not unconditional. Those who become gods, mighty ones with Jesus, must first prove their worthiness for the position. “Ye shall die like men,” the prophecy states, “and fall like one of the princes.”
Here is set forth the Christian’s privilege of dying with Jesus, and the manner in which he is to die is stipulated—“like one of the princes.” None of the princes among the angelic hosts of creation has ever been given the privilege of dying in God’s cause, so the princes here mentioned must be found among God’s human creatures. A prince is a ruler, and when Adam was created he was given dominion over the earth. The right to rule would have been shared by his posterity had sin and death not blighted the human race. The only other perfect human being to whom this right has ever belonged was Jesus. Here, then, are the two “princes” alluded to in the prophecy.
The prerequisite for becoming “gods” and exercising power over the nations on a partnership basis with Christ is that we die, or “fall” like one of these princes. Both of these princes fell in death, but the manner of their falling was certainly not the same. The human race is so accustomed to death that most people consider it a necessary experience, failing to realize that it is a present necessity only because of sin. Prince Adam did not have to die. When placed in the Garden of Eden he was on trial for life or death. Continued obedience would have resulted in everlasting life, and the retaining of his princeship over the earth forever.
But Prince Adam did not obey divine law. He yielded to the adverse influences which were brought to bear upon him, and went down in shame, dying as a sinner. Adam’s posterity automatically shared in his condemnation because they have all been born in sin, hence unable to keep God’s perfect law. These all die, and they “fall” in death like Prince Adam, that is, as sinners under condemnation.
Sacrificial Death
But Prince Jesus did not die as a sinner. He did not fall in death because he had transgressed God’s law. There was no necessity on his own account that he die, As he explained, no one could take his life from him unless he permitted it. He had the right to lay it down voluntarily if he wished, and he had the right not to do so. Jesus died because he willed to die. “My flesh … I will give for the life of the world,” he stated; and it was a voluntary gift. (John 6:51) How vastly different, then, was the falling in death of Prince Jesus from that of Prince Adam! And we can be “gods,” mighty ones in the kingdom of Christ, if we fall in death as he fell; that is, if we voluntarily die with him, being “planted together in the likeness of his death.”—Rom. 6:5
Can members of a fallen and dying race die otherwise than as sinners who are condemned to death? Yes. This is made possible through the justifying merit of the blood of Christ. “Being justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ,” wrote the Apostle Paul. (Rom. 5:1) Accepting by faith the provisions of God’s grace through Christ, we are no longer alienated from him because of sin, but have peace with God. We are justified freely from sin and its penalty; yea, we are afforded “justification of life.”—Rom. 5:18
But this “justification of life” through the blood of Christ is for a purpose, and for one purpose only, which is that we present our bodies in sacrifice, following the example of Jesus. (Rom. 12:1) Consecrating our lives thus to the service of God, we are authorized to “reckon” them as being sacrificed in death; yea, in the “likeness” of Jesus’ death, thus falling in death “like one of the princes.” What marvelous grace! By means of this arrangement the followers of the Master have an opportunity of proving their loyalty to God and to righteousness, and upon the basis of enduring the tests faithfully even unto death, be considered worthy of living and reigning with Christ as “gods,” or mighty ones, in the divine kingdom.
“Consider Him”
The value of the doctrinal truths of the divine plan is in proportion to the extent to which we apply them in our lives. To know that it is possible for us to “fall like one of the princes” is important only if this knowledge inspires us actually and faithfully to walk in the footsteps of the Master. The theory is beautiful, but to us as individuals that beauty fades if we fail to translate theory into practice. If we are sincere in our professions, therefore, we will delight to consider Jesus, to study his life and the manner of his death, in order that we may copy him and thus die as he died.
Every word and act of Jesus is worthy of emulation, but we will confine our present consideration of him more particularly to the manner in which he gave up his life and all the rights of life which properly were his. In this respect his example becomes the most illuminating during those closing days of his ministry when he knew that his hour of death had come, and he was faced with the reality of giving up his earthly existence forever. It is this particular phase of Jesus’ sacrificial life that so many of the Lord’s people will be considering shortly, as, in harmony with his request, they once more commemorate his death by partaking of the Memorial emblems.
In the first place, it is well to remember that Jesus voluntarily went to Jerusalem, contrary to the advice of Peter, when he knew that his enemies there were plotting to kill him. Previously he had avoided this danger zone, not that he was unwilling to die, but because his Father’s time had not come for him to complete his sacrifice as the world’s Redeemer. Obedience to God was the first rule by which Jesus governed his life. If obedience meant life, he rejoiced; if it meant death, he continued to rejoice with an inward joy of knowing that he always did those things which pleased his Father.
In Jerusalem we find Jesus with his disciples in that “upper room” where for the last time he celebrated the Passover together with them. The fact that it was the time for the Passover was significant to Jesus, for thus did he know the exact day on which it was his Father’s will for him to die. It was the “midst of the week”—the prophetic seventieth week during which the Messiah was to be cut off in death, but not for himself; that is, not as the shiner Adam died.—Dan. 9:24-27
Jesus could read the thoughts and hearts of his disciples. He knew of the plans Judas had made to betray him; but he addressed Judas as “friend,” (Greek, “comrade.”) What a valuable lesson this is for us as we consider Jesus with the thought of dying as he died. Jesus had entered into a, covenant with his Father which called for the sacrifice of his human life. He knew that he could not be faithful to that covenant short of actual death; so what did it matter just how his sacrifice was to be consummated?
Let us consider Jesus in this. We too have laid our lives on the altar of sacrifice. We have covenanted to die as he died. Should we become embittered toward those who in any way may be instrumental in lighting the fires which consume the sacrifice, or who help to keep them burning? Judas was a traitor, to be sure, and Jesus might have delivered a long and bitter harangue against him, and justly so, but he didn’t. Judas had been richly blessed by the Master, and honored. Jesus had a right to expect better things of him, but love “seeketh not her own.” (I Cor. 13:5) Love was impelling the Master to give up his rights, to give up everything, even life itself. Are we like him?
A Prayer for Peter
Jesus also knew that Peter would deny him, but how gracious he was toward him! Peter had no intention of failing his Master, or of renouncing his allegiance to him. Indeed, he vigorously affirmed otherwise. But Jesus knew Peter better than the disciple knew himself. Jesus knew that Peter was not in harmony with his being in Jerusalem at this time, and that he would later try to prevent his arrest through the use of the sword. The Master knew that Peter had yet to learn that those who lose their lives voluntarily in the sacrificial program of this age will save them, so he said to him, “Satan hath desired to have you that he may sift you as wheat. But I have prayed for thee, that thy faith fail not: and when thou art converted, strengthen thy brethren.”—Luke 22:31,32
Through all the experiences of those last few days of Jesus’ ministry Peter had the opportunity of observing in him a perfect example of voluntary sacrifice which led to death. He failed to grasp the significance of this, and endeavored to dissuade Jesus from thus giving: up his life. But what he saw had its effect. Later, after he had been enlightened by the Holy Spirit, these object lessons helped to enrich the very revealing and heart-searching presentation of Christian sacrifice which we find in Peter’s first epistle. How wonderfully in this epistle does he strengthen the brethren to endure suffering and to be faithful in sacrifice, explaining that even hereunto are we called, for thus did Jesus suffer and die, and we are dying “like him.
Do we pray for our brethren who, through imperfections, or lack of judgment, or fear, or ignorance, cause seemingly unnecessary trials to come upon us? Jesus did! Jesus prayed for Peter because he loved him, and because he knew that God was dealing with him and preparing him for special service in the church. How do we know but what those who cause us our most fiery trials are being prepared by the Heavenly Father for some important service, either this side or the other side of the veil?
In any event, we have covenanted to die, so let us not resent any means which the Lord may permit or use to consume our sacrifice. Let us remember that our brethren who may irk us most have been called of God, that he has honored them, that they too are endeavoring to die with Jesus, and in this knowledge continue to love them and serve them and pray for them. If we can do this while we are dying, then in this respect also we are falling like Prince Jesus, going down into death victoriously.
The Servant of All
Jesus gave his disciples another wonderful object lesson while in that upper room. He washed their feet. A controversy arose among them as to who would be the greatest. Ah yes, they were destined in the divine plan to be “gods”—mighty ones. If faithful, they were to be given power over the nations; but it was quite out of place for them to be aspiring for power and authority over one another; so Jesus, who was their Lord and Master, washed their feet as an example of humble service, explaining that the best token of real greatness is willingness to serve even in the humblest, menial ways.
Here again we have a point for consideration which helps to reveal the manner in which Jesus died. Many in the world seem willing to die for a cause, if accompanying their martyrdom there is a blare of trumpets and popular fanfare. But are we willing to lay down our lives in all the little and humble ways which opportunity presents to us? Are we willing and glad to do this even though unnoticed and unknown by others. To do this is to use our strength as Jesus did, to die as he died, to be, indeed, like him and qualified to be mighty ones with him in the kingdom.
The Memorial Supper
Jesus and his disciples were gathered in that upper room to partake of the Passover supper. Finished with that, Jesus took some of the unleavened bread and some of the wine and instituted a new ceremony—not a new way to celebrate the Passover, nor as a fulfillment of the Passover type, but a memorial of the fulfillment, that fulfillment being the death of Jesus as the antitypical Passover Lamb who taketh away the sin of the world. “This do,” the Master enjoined, “in remembrance of me.”—Luke 22:19
The world is in the habit of commemorating the birth of its noble ones, but Jesus knew that the important aspect of his ministry was his death, for without his death all mankind would continue forever under the condemnation of death on account of sin. This is my body broken for you; this is my blood, shed for you, Jesus explained, when he invited his disciples to partake of these emblems. A broken body and shed blood, both tokens, of a sacrificed life—a life sacrificed for his disciples and for all mankind.
And so each year, on the anniversary of the Master’s death (this year on the evening of April 3) we come together as little groups throughout the world to partake of the unleavened bread, and the fruit of the vine, in memory of the death of Jesus, that, as a Prince among humanity, and uncondemned to death, he sacrificed his life, humbly and gladly giving it up that others might live. Yes, he fell, not a victim of sin, but a victor over it, and over the condemnation of death which results from it.
And it was for us and for the world that he died, not for himself. It was for others that his body was broken and his blood shed. And what has it done for us? If we have faith to believe it, and order our lives in harmony with our belief, it affects our justification to life, gives us peace with God, and provides access into such high favor with God that we have a hope of one day partaking of his glory.—Rom. 5:1,2
Partners in Sacrifice
Upon what basis may we hope to partake of the glory of God, some might ask, and the Scriptures answer, “If we suffer and die with him.” Together with Jesus we may become mighty ones in the kingdom, if we die as he died and fall as he fell—victorious in loving sacrifice for others. Thus, when the Apostle Paul writes of our privilege of commemorating the death of Jesus by partaking of the symbolic bread and wine, he reminds us of this further significance which is attached to the ceremony. The bread and the “cup” he explains, signify our communion (Greek, partnership) in the suffering and death of Jesus.
So it is, as in our minds we sit down with Jesus and his disciples in that upper room to listen and to observe, we become aware of two great truths. First we see Jesus, humble, forgiving, understanding, and solicitous for the welfare of his disciples; but withal, resolute in his determination to die as a sacrifice, and to fall as a prince should fall, not in defeat, but as a victor.
And as this glorious example of faithfulness impresses itself more and more upon our consciousness, we realize also that Jesus was preparing his disciples for that which later was revealed to them by the Holy Spirit; namely, that they too were to have the privilege of dying as they had seen him die. When we hear him say of the bread, “Take, eat, this is my body,” and of the wine which depicted his shed blood, “Drink ye all of it,” we realize that he is referring not only to his own death, but also to our privilege of dying with him and “like” him.—Matt. 26:26,27
To Gethsemane and the Cross
The service in the upper room, with all its precious lessons, being finished, they sang a hymn and went out. (Matt. 26:30; Mark 14:26) Out into the night went that little band of men—twelve in all. Prospectively, as the prophet had foretold, they were all “gods.” One of them was a prince, rightfully the One to whom belonged the dominion of earth. But he was going out to Gethsemane and to the cross to die, to fall as a victim of the sin of others, but triumphant over selfishness because he was doing it voluntarily.
Out over the brook Kidron they went. Jesus told the disciples that they would all be offended because of him; but, not understanding what was involved, they all disclaimed any intention of wavering in loyalty to their Master. Peter was especially outspoken in expressing his determination to stand by Jesus, and to die for him if need be. And he meant it! We know he meant it, for not long after that he went into action with a sword against a whole mob in order to rescue his Lord from their ugly clutches.
On into the garden they went. It was far into the night, and the disciples were weary. Even Peter, James, and John whose love for Jesus seemed often to glow with a little more warmth than did that of the others, found it difficult to “watch” with their Lord. Then, alone with his God, his Heavenly Father, this Prince gained the final victory—“Not my will, but thine be done,” he prayed, and then he was ready, fully ready and glad to die for the sins of the whole world, to fall in death as a Prince in order that atonement for the failure of Prince Adam might be made.—Luke 22:42
As we watch the swift-moving scenes which culminated on the cross, we discover that every word and every act of the Master emphasizes that his life was not being taken from him against his will, that he was, in fact, presenting his body voluntarily as a sacrifice that the necessary blood of atonement might be made available to make propitiation, first for the church’s sin, and later for the sins of the whole world.—I John 2:2
Put up the sword, he said to Peter, who was trying to defend him. Knowing that the religious leaders of Israel were seeking his death on the charge that he blasphemed by claiming to be the Son of God, Jesus did not offer any explanation when the high priest asked him if this was what he really did claim. “Thou hast said,” was his only reply. (Matt. 26:64) When to this was added the charge of treason against Caesar, Jesus again acknowledged that what he was accused of was essentially correct. “Art thou a king then?” asked Pilate, and the Master replied, “To this end was I born, and for this cause came I into the world.” (John 18:37) No defense, no dodging the issue, no holding back—this was Jesus, our Exemplar, the One we follow, the One who died as we profess that we want to die.
“They Watched Him There”
With very little ceremony Jesus was delivered to his accusers. He was crowned with thorns—in derision. He was spat upon and mocked. He was hung upon the cross, and on the inscription above his head he was designated the King of the Jews. He was their King, but they didn’t believe it, and they killed him because of their unbelief. The account relates, “And sitting down they watched him there.” (Matt. 27:36) Ah, what a sight, and what a lesson for us as we too watch him with the desire to learn what he did, that we may do likewise; to see how he died, that we may die the same way!
As they “watched him there,” the jeering, angry mob shouted, “If thou be the Son of God, come down from the cross.” (Matt. 27:40) Not for an instant did Jesus display the faintest desire to prove to these dupes of Satan that they were wrong, that he was indeed the Son of God. No, he just let them continue to “contradict” him.
Again they cried, “He saved others, himself he cannot save.” (Mark 15:31) He could have saved himself, but he preferred to save them. There was a higher motive guiding him, a nobler aspiration; and that was to do his Father’s will. Jesus’ Father wanted him to die, thus to be the antitypical Passover Lamb, the Lamb of God to take away the sins of the world. (John 1:29) Because this is what his father wanted, Jesus desired it also, so he didn’t try to save himself by coming down from the cross.
So Jesus died! For one brief moment just before death finished his agony, he sensed the withdrawal of his Father’s smile. This, too, was necessary, for he was taking the sinner’s place. And then he cried, “It is finished,” and committed his life into the hands of him who is the source of all life. (John 19:30) He was dead! He died like a man—not like an imperfect, sinful man under condemnation to death; but as a perfect man who gave up his life in sacrifice. He fell as a prince who had the right to live and be the ruler of the earthly dominion, but he did not exercise that right.
And now we turn away from that final scene of suffering and death, and from the agony of him who not only died for us, but showed us how to die with him. As we turn away we ponder more earnestly over those prophetic words of our text, “Ye shall die like men, and fall like one of the princes.” As we meditate thus, and realize that we are among those who have covenanted to die like the man Christ Jesus, and to fall in sacrifice as did our great Prince and Savior, our hearts leap up to God in a reaffirmation of our pledge to do his will, and we say, O God, help us not to forget the example of Jesus’ loving devotion; help us to remember the manner in which he died; and help us that we may measure up to our privileges of sacrifice with the consuming zeal that we have seen in Jesus. Help us indeed to be faithful, even “unto death.”—Rev. 2:10