Overcome
Read John 16.
We're in the midst of (or really, right at the beginning of) March Madness. People have made up brackets, predicting their winner, and others just have a team they hope will win. Facebook profile pictures have been changed by many to show support for the team they think will prevail. For many, if they just make it out of the first round, it's a victory. Some become consumed with basketball at this time of year; is it any wonder we call it "madness"?
Everyone is looking to win; every team is looking to overcome the team they play next. And how will they know if they have overcome? When the scoreboard shows more points on their side than on the other side, of course. Eventually, on April 2 (the day after Easter!), a champion will be crowned. And then we will go about our business like usual.
For most, in life as in sports, overcoming means winning. But what if overcoming meant something different? As we continue the walk with Jesus on that final evening he shared with his disciples, he promises that he is going to overcome the world (16:33). Actually, what he says is that he HAS overcome the world. It's already done. It's an accomplished fact. For these disciples, still after three years with the teacher, overcoming meant defeating Rome, setting up a kingdom in Jerusalem, ruling as an earthly power. But for Jesus, in all that he has said on this night of nights, overcoming looks quite different.
Overcoming looks like a cross. It means something that appears to be defeat. Overcoming means tearing down the world's ideas and replacing them with the way God does things. Overcoming means grief that turns to joy, sorrow that turns to gladness, mourning that is replaced by resurrection. Overcoming does not look like victory in the conventional sense, contrary to what a lot of preachers will tell you today. It does not mean more cars, more money, less stress or better health. Overcoming means following the path of the cross and leaving the world's ideas behind.
Maybe our trouble is with the word "victory," because for us, "victory" looks like triumphalism. We win. And what is about to happen to Jesus and his followers does not look like winning from the world's standpoint. Being pulled out of the synagogue, being threatened with death, watching your teacher die a horrible death—does any of this sound like "victory" as we usually think of it? And yet, that's exactly what Jesus promises, but he also promises an Advocate, the Holy Spirit, who will comfort, strengthen, and enable his followers to remember what Jesus said and press on in faith. I think, perhaps, that's why John uses this same word (overcome) in Revelation to describe the ones who "endure to the end," who make it across the finish line of faith. The world may not think much of them; the world may not think they "won" anything. But the world's perspective doesn't matter. God's does. And they are the overcomers. They are the ones who inherit eternal life.
We're in the midst of (or really, right at the beginning of) March Madness. People have made up brackets, predicting their winner, and others just have a team they hope will win. Facebook profile pictures have been changed by many to show support for the team they think will prevail. For many, if they just make it out of the first round, it's a victory. Some become consumed with basketball at this time of year; is it any wonder we call it "madness"?
Everyone is looking to win; every team is looking to overcome the team they play next. And how will they know if they have overcome? When the scoreboard shows more points on their side than on the other side, of course. Eventually, on April 2 (the day after Easter!), a champion will be crowned. And then we will go about our business like usual.
For most, in life as in sports, overcoming means winning. But what if overcoming meant something different? As we continue the walk with Jesus on that final evening he shared with his disciples, he promises that he is going to overcome the world (16:33). Actually, what he says is that he HAS overcome the world. It's already done. It's an accomplished fact. For these disciples, still after three years with the teacher, overcoming meant defeating Rome, setting up a kingdom in Jerusalem, ruling as an earthly power. But for Jesus, in all that he has said on this night of nights, overcoming looks quite different.
Overcoming looks like a cross. It means something that appears to be defeat. Overcoming means tearing down the world's ideas and replacing them with the way God does things. Overcoming means grief that turns to joy, sorrow that turns to gladness, mourning that is replaced by resurrection. Overcoming does not look like victory in the conventional sense, contrary to what a lot of preachers will tell you today. It does not mean more cars, more money, less stress or better health. Overcoming means following the path of the cross and leaving the world's ideas behind.
Maybe our trouble is with the word "victory," because for us, "victory" looks like triumphalism. We win. And what is about to happen to Jesus and his followers does not look like winning from the world's standpoint. Being pulled out of the synagogue, being threatened with death, watching your teacher die a horrible death—does any of this sound like "victory" as we usually think of it? And yet, that's exactly what Jesus promises, but he also promises an Advocate, the Holy Spirit, who will comfort, strengthen, and enable his followers to remember what Jesus said and press on in faith. I think, perhaps, that's why John uses this same word (overcome) in Revelation to describe the ones who "endure to the end," who make it across the finish line of faith. The world may not think much of them; the world may not think they "won" anything. But the world's perspective doesn't matter. God's does. And they are the overcomers. They are the ones who inherit eternal life.
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