Our True & Greater Example (The True & Greater #17)
If you follow enough pastors and theologians on Twitter, you eventually notice something I’ve started calling the liturgical calendar of arguments. Christian Twitter breaks out into a theological argument about some subject, and then it fades. Then they move on to another one, and that fades. And the whole thing cycles back around about every 18 to 36 months.
It’s been a while, so I’m expecting the David and Bathsheba debate to resurface any moment now. Was it rape or was it consensual? But that will fade, because we have to have the conversation about the roles of men and women in ministry and in marriage. And that has to fade so we can debate the proper ways to talk about the Trinity, which words you can and cannot use. And that has to fade so we can get to what everyone is arguing about right now, which is Calvinism versus Arminianism. And I know that one will fade too, because they still have to get back to Christian nationalism, and the dangers of certain Bible translations, and the dangers of the megachurch. They will even argue about the dangers of the liturgical calendar of arguments. We seem to have an inexhaustible ability to argue about theology.
The Argument That Actually Matters
One of the subjects that gets slipped into that rotation has to do with the atonement. If you’re not familiar with the word, its origin is simply at-one-ness. A more modern definition would be to make amends. What does the cross of Christ actually accomplish? How does it help us make amends and have at-one-ness with God?
What you might not realize is that there’s an entire realm of theology called atonement theories — different explanations postulated about what was accomplished through the cross.
There’s the ransom theory: sin stole us, kidnapped us from God, and the penalty was death, so Jesus pays the ransom to bring us back and make us His again. There’s Christus Victor: Christ had victory over all things, over sin and death, by dying on the cross. There’s the satisfaction theory: mankind by sinning dishonored God, and He had just wrath against sin, but by Jesus dying the wrath is satisfied and honor is restored. There’s the healing motif: through the death of Jesus we are healed spiritually. And then there’s the one you’re probably most familiar with, because it’s what we tend to teach here at Riverwood — penal substitution. Penal means there was a penalty that had to be paid. Substitution means Jesus substituted Himself for us.
In my opinion, all of these come together. There’s scriptural support for all of them. Jesus paid the penalty. He was our substitute. He heals us spiritually. He redeems and restores us. He pays the ransom and brings us back to Himself. He has victory over sin and death. All of it.
But there’s one theory I want to draw out, because it’s gotten more popular lately. I hear it on Twitter. I see it in mainstream media. And I see it in certain branches of Christianity, primarily what would be known as progressive Christianity. That’s the example theory. Even though it feels like the newest fad, it was actually developed back in the 16th century by an anti-Trinitarian scholar. The example theory holds that when Jesus died on a cross, He did so to be an example — and that by looking at His self-sacrifice, we are inspired, and therefore we go and live better lives.
In my opinion, that theory falls way short of what we see in Scripture. First, Jesus doesn’t have to be God for it to hold true; He can just be a good man being a good example. Second, it doesn’t do a very good job of addressing sin and evil. He’s just a good person who sacrifices Himself — but why? Third, it wildly overestimates human ability. As if you’d see Jesus on the cross and just magically be inspired to go do a better job.
And yet I don’t think it’s entirely wrong. In Ephesians 5:25, husbands are told to love their wives like Christ loved the church. How did Christ love the church? The verse goes on: “as he gave himself up for her.” Jesus put the needs of the church ahead of His own. He had no sin. He didn’t need to pay a penalty for Himself. But we did. So husbands are to look at Jesus, look at His example, and put their wife’s needs ahead of their own. Or take 1 Peter 2:21, which flat out says Christ suffered for you, leaving you an example.
So Jesus is an example. But what we see in Hebrews 12 is that He isn’t an example merely to inspire us. He’s our true and greater example — the one upon whom we build our entire life.
Therefore: A Cloud of Witnesses
Let’s read Hebrews 12:1-4.
“Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us also lay aside every weight, and sin which clings so closely, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us, looking to Jesus, the founder and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy that was set before him endured the cross, despising the shame, and is seated at the right hand of the throne of God. Consider him who endured from sinners such hostility against himself, so that you may not grow weary or fainthearted. In your struggle against sin you have not yet resisted to the point of shedding your blood.”
If you were with us any Sunday this past summer, you know we studied Hebrews 11 — the chapter nicknamed the Hall of Faith, full of men and women who displayed exemplary faith in God. Nearly every one of them, other than the last few at the end, came out of the book of Genesis. As we studied their lives, we saw how they pointed to Jesus. That’s why we called the series Jesus in Genesis.
We finished that chapter last week. Now we move into chapter 12 and get back to the true and greater portion of our series — only to have the author immediately call us back to chapter 11. Look at that very first word: therefore. Anytime you come to therefore in Scripture, you need to ask what the therefore is there for. It’s a connector. What I just said now leads into what you’re about to hear.
So in light of chapter 11, what do we need to know? That we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses. That cloud is all the people we studied this summer — those Old Testament saints, mostly from Genesis, a couple from Exodus and Joshua and Judges. We look at them to see the lives they lived by faith. In a sense, they are an example for us. We wouldn’t quite know how to live this life without them showing us the way.
You Are a Turtle on a Fence Post
I get way too many newsletters in my email. I delete most of them and probably should just unsubscribe. But I actually opened one this past week from a pastor promoting an online seminar, and in it he included a picture. It was some artwork that looked like it was painted by a 12-year-old — because it was. It was his daughter’s watercolor. He’s not really an art person, but this one means a lot to him.
There are mountains in the background, because they live in Arizona, and a couple of cactus, and a fence. And on top of one of the fence posts is a turtle.
He loves the idea of a turtle on a fence post, because you know the turtle did not put itself there. Turtles cannot climb up a post, get on top, and start basking in the sun. It means someone came along, found the turtle, and — probably rather cruelly — set it up there. What’s it going to do? This will be funny.
You and I are probably turtles on a fence post. Almost none of us put ourselves in the position we’re in on our own. Others helped get you where you are.
I don’t think I would be where I am without my mom and dad. They pointed me to Jesus. They were brand new Christians when I was born, and I had the joy of watching them seek to grow in Christ and share that faith with me. I don’t think I’d be where I am without Dale Fleming. Dale was a middle school counselor and a volunteer youth leader at our church, and he invested in us and encouraged me to let my faith influence my peers. I don’t think I’d be where I am without Ray Barrett. I only got to be part of Ray’s life for eleven months before cancer took him, and yet he was one of the first men to say out loud, “You could be a pastor.” I don’t think I’d be where I am without Tom Peets. Tom was just a peer of mine, and he routinely told me, “You have a gift of teaching. You need to use this.” I could go on and on about the men and women God used to put me in this place — including my wife. I would not be where I’m at without her. Riverwood would not exist without her.
I am a turtle on a fence post. And probably you are too. You are where you are because of parents, or a coach, or a mentor, or a teacher, or a boss, or a friend who encouraged you, prayed for you, gave you an opportunity. You did not climb to this point all on your own. Someone helped you get here.
That’s what the author is saying in verse 1. We didn’t get here on our own. Those men and women lived in a way that helped us see what this looks like, and it put us in position to live a life of faith because we had their example.
Lay Aside Every Weight
So what was their example? Two things. The first is to lay aside every weight.
In 2009 I had the honor of getting to go to the Czech Republic to teach English at a camp for business leaders. Our flight out of Chicago left extremely late, so we barely made our connecting flight in London. All seven of us made the flight. Our luggage did not.
When we got to Prague we still had our carry-ons — we’d all packed extra underwear and a shirt — and we figured the luggage would show up the next day. We slept, came down to the hotel’s main floor to head for a four-hour train ride, and found two of our seven suitcases. So we called the airline and told them where we were going. Sure enough, the next day one more came. And the next day another. And as you’d expect, mine was last. Four days later I finally got my suitcase.
You’d think when I saw it I’d be thrilled. Finally, I don’t have to wash my underwear in the bathroom sink every night, hang it on the balcony, and then put it back on damp. But that was not my response. As soon as I saw my suitcase, something inside me just went, oh.
Something had happened over those six days of having less stuff. Life had gotten simpler. I felt lighter. I felt freer. And as soon as that suitcase arrived, it was a burden. A weight.
We somehow think that if we just have more in this life, we’ll have more joy in this life. If I could just get an Amazon package every other day. If I could just keep the pantry full. If I could just get the new tech. Then I’ll be happy. And what we’re actually doing is adding weight to our soul, our mind, our lives.
That’s why Colossians 3 warns us to set our hearts on things above, not on earthly things. The more of this earth you have, the more weight sits on your soul. And Christ wants you free.
Some of you need to go through a purging for the sake of your own heart. You need to let some stuff go — have a garage sale, start posting things on Facebook Marketplace, take a load down to Trinkets & Togs. For some of you it isn’t possessions, it’s your calendar. You’ve packed it so full you have no space for anyone, or even for God. When’s the last time you actually sat down and read your Bible? You don’t know, because you’ve been going and going and going. For some of you it’s entertainment, it’s streaming — you’ve filled your life with it and have no space left for anyone else.
The Old Testament saints laid aside comfort. They laid aside wealth. They laid aside so much, because God was enough. Let go of some of these things. They’re not sin. But they’re not helping. The things of this earth are meant to be tools that help us seek after the Lord. If something is no longer a tool that makes you want to worship God, and has instead become a thing in and of itself, maybe it’s time to let it go.
The Sin That Clings So Closely
But it’s not just weights we need to let go of. We’re also told to lay aside the sin which clings so closely.
If you’re a follower of Jesus — meaning you’ve put all of your faith and identity in Him — then your sin is forgiven. The cross of Christ is sufficient. It is powerful enough to obliterate that sin. And yet sin clings so closely. Just because we’ve been forgiven of it doesn’t mean we never go back to it. Some of us return and hold onto it.
Sin is a liar. It promises freedom and turns out to be a cage. It pretends to be a kitten, but it is a dragon. It acts all cuddly — this will be fine, this isn’t that big of a deal, Jesus died for that, nobody’s going to know, it’s not as bad as what that person does. And then it eats you and burns you. Don’t fall for the lie. Let it go.
And because it clings so closely, letting go is more than deciding you’re done with it. You can’t just take it down to Trinkets & Togs and walk away. It clings. That means you’re in for the fight of your life, and you’ll need to take some steps. You might need to delete the app. Cancel the credit card. Put blockers on your phone or your computer. Bring someone into the battle with you. Start praying your face off hourly. Start bringing more Scripture into your life and changing what you listen to. It might mean some big changes. But it’s worth it. Christ is worth it. If He gave all of it for you, it’s worth giving it all up for Him.
Why Would You Run With a Backpack Full of Dumbbells?
Why get rid of the weight and the sin? So that we can do the next phrase — run with endurance the race that is set before us.
On Friday, Leanne and I are headed over to western Iowa to watch Zion run his first cross-country meet of the season. It’s the first meet, so it’s a 6K rather than a full 8K, and honestly we’re excited. Not only do we get to see our kid again, but he trained really, really hard this summer. This kid got disciplined and stayed after it, and we’re eager to see how the work pays off. He’s already done a timed mile and ran way better than he expected.
But how dumb would it be if he said, “You know what? I’ve improved so much this is going to be too easy. It’s not fair. I should get a backpack, put some dumbbells in it, strap a hundred extra pounds on my back, and then run the 6K.”
That’d be dumb, right? You know what’s equally dumb? Holding onto the weight of this world and the sin that clings so closely. You’ve been invited into this race of life and you’re meant to run it with endurance. Why put more on, when Galatians 5:1 says it is for freedom that Christ came to set you free? Let Him take the backpack off.
Looking to the Founder and Perfecter
And where are we running? We run this race with endurance by looking to Jesus.
All through Hebrews the author has been doing this move. He introduces a topic and then points it at Jesus. You think the Sabbath is great? Let me tell you about the true and greater Sabbath. The tabernacle was instrumental? Here’s the true and greater tabernacle. Abraham was incredible? Here’s the true and greater Abraham. And in verse 1 he’s told us those Old Testament saints are a great example — but they’re not the best example. So let’s go to the true and greater example. Let’s go to Jesus.
Before he gives us three ways to follow Jesus, notice how he describes Him: the founder and perfecter of our faith. Founder can be translated author, and I like that idea. He’s the author of our faith. He’s the one writing our story. And He isn’t just the founder of the Christian faith generally — He’s the founder of your faith. In other words: you’re a turtle on a fence post because Jesus picked you up and set you there. He began it in you, and He’s going to complete it. He’ll perfect it. That echoes Philippians 1:6 — He who began a good work in you will complete it in the day of Christ Jesus.
Jesus began your faith, so chase after Him. Cling closely to Him and not to the sin, not to the weight of the world. He’s not just a good example. He’s not just a great leader or a good moral teacher. He is the founder and perfecter of your faith, and everything you get in this life and the next comes because of Him.
Our True and Greater Example in Perseverance
He shows us three ways He’s our true and greater example: in perseverance, in peace, and in personhood.
Perseverance is right there in the middle of verse 2 — He endured the cross. And then again in verse 3 — He endured from sinners such hostility.
Most everything great in life comes through perseverance. No Olympic gold medalist accidentally found themselves on top of the medal stand. No graduate of law school or medical school or seminary just wandered onto the stage. You had to work hard. Often the best things come through the hardest things.
Jesus went through the cross for you. He went through hell to give you heaven. He went through the worst. He persevered so that you could have the best. So don’t give up. Where does that motivation come from? From knowing that if He could give it all for you and persevere through all of that, then you can chase after Him — because you’ll discover He’s worth it.
Study after study shows that when you persevere, when you endure, it does something in you. It builds character. It makes you more mature. You actually find more contentment. Sometimes doing the hard thing is what brings the better thing. And we see it spiritually too: James 1 tells us that as we remain steadfast through trials, we become perfect and complete. In other words, you become more like Jesus. So hang on. Don’t give up. He’s worth it.
Our True and Greater Example in Peace
Notice the phrase right after “founder and perfecter of our faith”: for the joy that was set before him.
I’m telling you right now, there was no joy in the cross. Yes, He endured the cross. He did not enjoy the cross. The cross was awful. The cross was pain. The cross was hell. So what does it mean that it was for the joy set before Him? It means there was something on the other side that was going to fill Him with joy. Something worth it. Just like an athlete willing to go through a workout that exhausts them in body, mind, heart, and soul — all for the joy of the prize.
Jesus went through the hell of the cross for the joy of getting something on the other side. You.
That’s the atonement. He wanted at-one-ness with you. Sin stole you away, and He paid the price to purchase you back — even though His image, His brand, was already on you. You were worth everything.
That’s why the next phrase says He endured the cross, despising the shame. I don’t know if you realize how shameful crucifixion was. A crucified man would almost always be completely naked, or nearly so. They tried to strip every last piece of dignity from him. And for Christ there was more. The whole way up as He carried the crossbeam, people jeered — if he really is the Son of God. At His fake trial the night before, soldiers spat in His face. They did everything they could to strip Him of dignity. And He despised the shame for you. Which is why verse 3 says He endured from sinners such hostility against Himself.
What allowed Him to do that? Peace. In the middle of all that hell, He had peace, because He knew what He was facing was not the end.
At the end of our service today we’re taking up a collection for Northside Neighborhood Church in honor of Amelia. Leanne and I went to the funeral on Thursday, and I was a muddled mess for probably three-fourths of it. Shelby and Patrick both got up and spoke. I don’t know that I could have done that. As they spoke you could tell they were broken. They were grieving. This hurt deep. As I shared last week, they’ve already been through three miscarriages. They adopted one daughter, and tried to adopt two others, and both of those adoptions fell through. Loss after loss after loss. And then to have their very first pregnancy make it all the way to term, everything looking great, and an hour later their baby is gone. Gut-wrenching.
And somehow they had the strength to stand up at her funeral and speak. There was grief. There was heartache. There was pain. And yet there was strength. There was hope. There was peace — because they knew this momentary affliction was not the end of it all, that there was something greater on the other side. Namely, Jesus. Because they looked to Him, they saw the one who had perfect peace in the midst of His struggle, and it supplied them with peace in the midst of theirs. And their peace was somehow helping the rest of us work through it too. Because if they can respond like that, then maybe I can respond similarly.
Our True and Greater Example in Personhood
Look at the last phrase of verse 2: He is seated at the right hand of the throne of God.
Chronologically that’s after the cross — He went through it, rose from the dead, and is now seated at the highest place. Philippians 2 says He is exalted above all things, that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow and every tongue confess that Jesus is Lord. And yet even though that’s where He ended up, He had been there in the beginning. As God the Son, He knew exactly who He was and exactly where He belonged. Only the most important person in the kingdom gets to sit at the right hand of the king.
Jesus knew His identity. And that’s what helped Him persevere. That’s what let Him despise the shame. When they hurled insults, He knew they didn’t understand what they were saying, because they didn’t know who He truly was. But He knew. And knowing who He was carried Him through.
Over and over in Scripture, when you see language about being in Christ, you’ll almost always find it connected to a promise of something — perseverance, peace, strength, wisdom. When you feel like you’re lacking some of that, maybe it’s because you’re doubting who you are in Jesus. But if you’ve put your faith in Christ, you’re a new creation. You are a son or daughter of the Most High God. So when the world comes against you, it can’t overcome you, because greater is He who is in you than he who is in the world. You can handle it. You can persevere. You can have peace in the midst of suffering — all because you know who you are in Christ.
Which means you have to know who you are in Christ. Your identity has to shift from being just a student, just an athlete, just a spouse, just a parent, just this job, just this hobby. It has to shift to being first and foremost founded on Jesus, the founder and perfecter of your faith. The more you know who you are in Him, the more you’ll be able to respond like Shelby and Patrick — to persevere through the hardest moments of your life and have peace in the middle of the suffering, because you know who you are in Him.
Come to the Table
If you’re here today and you don’t know who you are in Him, let today be the day your faith is founded. Christ is calling you right now to put your whole identity in Him. Most people mark that moment with a prayer, and I’d love for you to pray one — confessing your sin, admitting you haven’t been seeking Him, and saying, I give my life to you, because you, Jesus, gave your life for me. He knows your name. He knows your story. He died for you. He wants to take you, this precious little turtle, set you on a fence post of faith, and let you bask in His glory.
And for those of us who already know these things — who know Jesus is the Son of God, who know He died on a cross for our sins — the honest question is whether we’ve actually been looking at Him. Our eyes drift a little too much toward this world. Toward material things. Toward the entertainment. Toward the events and the calendar. And He’s saying, give it to me. Let go of it. Be free.
We give you time to respond to this passage by opening the communion table. If you’re a first-time guest, we celebrate communion every Sunday at Riverwood. It gives us an opportunity to go to the cross and remember the body of Jesus broken for us and the blood of Jesus shed for us — that it should have been us paying the penalty, but as we see in penal substitution, He was our substitute. He took it for us. He deserves our everything. That’s why we take the bread and the juice into us, to say that His work, His story, His everything is now part of me.
If you know the truth of that story and you’ve centered your life on it — even if this past week hasn’t been perfect — come and take the elements. They’re a reminder that you are forgiven through Christ. Be encouraged. If you’re not yet a follower of Jesus, we’d ask you to respectfully abstain. Taking these elements says Jesus’ story is my story, and if that’s not your story yet, don’t take it. Instead, have a conversation. As the band leads us and people around you come and go, keep talking with God. Because if a moment ago you weren’t quite ready, and as the song continues the Holy Spirit says to you, I know you, I know your name, I know your story, I want you to be mine — then pray that prayer.
And if you know this story, if you’ve given your life to Jesus, then come. Let us worship Him. Let’s look to Jesus, the founder and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy set before Him endured the cross, despising its shame, and is now seated at the right hand of God. Let’s do this in remembrance of Him.
