Sermon Texts: John 11:32-35; Isaiah 53:3

I. This is the Jesus of Christmas; the Jesus who wept, the Jesus who was a man of sorrows, the Jesus who was a suffering servant by whose stripes we are healed.
A. How do you feel about Jesus' weeping, tears streaming down his face?
B. Generally, we want to deny this Jesus, but that is the Jesus God has given us: Jesus with a tear on his face.

II. God sent this kind of Messiah at Christmas because God knew that finally all of us would suffer.
A. Paul said in II Corinthians, "I came among you determined to know but one thing"--Jesus Christ, and him crucified. Paul knew that you had to deal with this Jesus with the tears.
B. What would be the effect on people of the statue of the scourged Jesus?

III.We identify with a different Jesus at different stages of our life.
A. Don't cry; be strong. You're a sissy if you cry.
B. Donna, the suffering servant who knew how it felt to be       overwhelmed by the events around her, kept the faith.

A TEAR ON JESUS' FACE

Christmas is a happy time, a time for merriment and celebration, a time to think of baby Jesus and angels and wise men and jolly elves and sleigh bells and snow and all that kind of happy thing. What is all this stuff about Jesus' weeping and being a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief?. Let us be more positive, a little happier about this season. This is the season of smiles end laughter, not a season of weeping and sorrow.

We love Christmas because of all the positive, happy things surrounding it. The story about his weeping, the story about a man of sorrows acquainted with grief, does not immediately appeal to us. Yet Isaiah 53:5 is a Messianic prophecy, a foretelling of God's special Suffering Servant, the One who would bring redemption to the world. The Bethlehem baby was the One who fulfilled the prophecy of Isaiah. He was wounded for our transgressions, he was bruised for our iniquities; upon him was the chastisement that made us whole, and with his stripes we are healed.

It is the birthday of this Messiah that we celebrate at Christmas. That is good, not depressing, news because in a few verses just prior to 53:5, Isaiah says these very famous words, "How beautiful upon the mountains are the feet of him who brings good tidings" (Isaiah 52:7).

There are several Messianic expectations at the time of Jesus' birth. The most popular expectation was that he would be a conquering hero who would save Israel from the yoke of Rome. He was to be a kind of Jewish Rambo, who would come filled with a passion for justice and violence and totally conquer the evil empire of Rome to restore the kingdom to Israel. We like that kind of hero. Movies depicting such heroes are the top box office hits. Since 1982, the sale of war toys has increased dramatically. The kind of Messiah we like is one who is a real man, somebody who is able to get tough and to solve the problems of the world. So we pray, "Lord, send us the kind of Messiah we like."

But that is not the Messiah that we got. Jesus, the son of Mary, chose to embody a very different Messianic expectation: the Messiah of Isaiah, the Suffering Servant by whose stripes we are healed. During Advent Season and Christmas, it is important that we hold this Jesus before us. We are tempted to hold to the "heroic" Messiah, and so on Sunday when we gather together to be reminded of what Christmas is really all about, it is essential, it is critical, that we be reminded that this is not the Jesus of Christmas. The Jesus of Christmas is the Jesus with tears streaming down his face, the Jesus who wept, the Jesus who was a man of sorrows, who was acquainted with grief. Jesus was a Suffering Servant, by whose stripes we are healed.

Jesus arrived at Bethany. He had heard that his friend Lazarus was very sick. When Jesus arrived, he was told that it was too late; Lazarus was dead. Jesus loved Lazarus, and as the story tells us, Jesus wept. How do you feel about this Jesus?

Generally, we want to deny his presence. Some of us will say, "Jesus, stop your crying. Don't cry. Only sissies cry." Perhaps we will give him a copy of the book When the Going Gets Tough, the Tough Get Going. We will say, "Jesus, stop all that crying." Or maybe some of us will say, "Jesus, don't cry. Your friend died, but look on the bright side. Look for the silver lining. Sure, he was a good friend, and you loved him, but you have lots of other friends. Besides, now he's gone to heaven, and he's not suffering anymore. So, Jesus, stop crying and look on the bright side and be a little more optimistic about things. Cheer up, Jesus."

Now those are good things to say to people who are crying. But so often when we say those things to people who mourn, we are denying their pain. We are saying to them, "Don't feel the pain that you feel. Deny it. Don't face the reality of the agony that you have in your heart and in the heart of the world." No, we do not easily accept this Jesus with tears coming down his face.

But that is the Jesus God has given to us, Jesus with a tear on his face. Paul knew that that was critical. In I Corinthians, Paul wrote to the early church, "When I came to you, brethren, I did not come proclaiming to you the testimony of God in lofty words or wisdom. For I decided to know nothing among you except Jesus Christ and him crucified" (I Corinthians 2:1-2). Paul knew that it was essential to deal with this Jesus with the tears.

In Bavaria, Germany, there is a magnificent rococo church. In 1730, two monks constructed a statue of Jesus, the Scourged Jesus, which was to be carried in the Good Friday Procession. They did such a powerful job of portraying this Jesus, with the crown of thorns and with the blood and wounds on his body after having been beaten, that when this statue was carried in the Good Friday Procession it was too much for the good, pious Bavarians. They were so overwhelmed with pity and sorrow that they decided this statue was too intense, so they put it aside. It was put into the home of a peasant family in a meadow in Bavaria. They kept it there, and it was venerated. Then one day in 1738 a woman came into the room where the statue was kept and saw tears coming down the face of the statue. She told people about it and they, too, saw the tears on the statue. Soon people came from far and wide to see this Jesus with the tears. Because there were so many people to see it, they decided to build a church to house this Jesus with the tears, this scourged Jesus. This is the same Jesus of Christmas. This was the Jesus to whom thousands of people come every month for healing. This Jesus knows what it is to suffer; those who suffer can identify with this Jesus, that they might be healed by his stripes.

This Jesus was the wounded healer. God sent this kind of Messiah because he knew that finally all of us would suffer, that all of us would know sorrow and grief. We would cry real tears, and we would be able to relate to this Jesus with the tears, this Jesus who was a man of sorrows and who was acquainted with grief, this Suffering Servant of God and of Isaiah.

When we are young and strong, we are full of vigor and vinegar, and then we identify with Rambo and Rocky. But as the years go on, we experience life in a different way, and we become aware of the fact that life can be hard and harsh. It can become a problem, so we begin to weep and feel sorry ourselves. Then we welcome this Jesus with the tears because here is One who understands what it is to suffer. He will not say, "Don't cry. You're a sissy if you cry." He will not come and tell us that when the going gets tough, the tough get going. We can go to this Jesus, and we can be vulnerable. We can be who we are; we do not have to make believe we are something we are not. We can go to him exactly the way we are in all of our weakness, in all of our fragility, because he cares and he understands. Those tears he has are not just for himself. Jesus is the resurrected Lord. He continues to be with us, and he continues to weep when he looks at people who suffer. When he sees you in your pain, he suffers and weeps for you. When he looks across the world and sees people who are poor and broken, he weeps for them. Anywhere there is pain in the world, he is there; with those who suffer, he suffers.

A pastor was to officiate at a funeral, so he left home early and arrived about an hour before the funeral was to start. He had not eaten any lunch, so he looked for a restaurant. There on the side of the road was a restaurant called "Donna's Country Kitchen." He went in and found that it was not Maxim’s of Paris; there was linoleum on the floor and four worn-out, broken-down booths and three stools at the counter and two hunters in one booth and Donna. Donna was the chief cook and bottle washer, waitress, the whole thing. He asked her to make him a western sandwich and a cup of coffee. He sat down and took out his service book and notes for the meditation and started going over those things to prepare for the funeral. Donna said to him as she took her cigarette out of her mouth, "Watcha doin'?'

He said, "I'm preparing for a funeral I have at two o'clock. I'm a minister, and I notice that behind the counter over there you have a poster that says, 'Jesus cares.'" Then he added, "Are you a Christian?"

"Aw," she said, her face lighting up. She squished out her cigarette, "I certainly am. I love Jesus."

Donna was one of those women who could have been anywhere from thirty to fifty, but you knew that life had not been easy for her. She said that she was all alone and that she had four children and that about a year before, she did not have any place to stay. She had no work, and she had those children for whom she was responsible. She did not know what to do, and so she said, "I prayed, and said, Jesus, help me. I don't know what to do. I've got to have a job so that I can take care of my children." The next day she was driving by this restaurant and saw a for sale sign. She went in and asked how much the selling price was. The owner wanted $3,500. Donna had exactly $3,500. She said, "Thank you, Jesus."

She went home and got her children, and they were able to be in a room right next door to the restaurant. She was able to keep an eye on her children while she ran her restaurant. Coffee was thirty-five cents. Steak and home fries were $3.50. Nothing cost more than $3.50, and everything was a multiple of thirty-five. The pastor said, "You're going to have to charge more money than that. How are you going to make a big, generous pledge to your church?"

She said, "Jesus wants me to charge only $3.50 for steak and fries.' Then some noises came from the next room and through the door came a wheelchair. The pastor said, "Who's in the wheelchair, Donna?"

"That's my son. He's ten years old. He's got muscular dystrophy. They told me that he'd never talk and that he'd never walk. But when he was eight years old he started to talk, and he hasn't stopped. And I believe one day Jesus is going to make him walk." Over the counter, the pastor saw again the sign "Jesus Cares."

The two hunters got up to leave. They had heard this whole conversation. They walked over to the counter to pay for their steak and eggs, and one of them put down a twenty dollar bill and walked out. Donna said, "Hey, that's too much." The guy just waved at her and smiled and said, "Good luck, lady." When the pastor left, he said, "Thank you, Donna, and don't you ever forget that Jesus cares."

Why tell about Donna? Because Donna needs the Jesus with a tear, a man of sorrows who is acquainted with grief, who cares, and who knows what it feels like to hurt, to be overwhelmed by life's problems. In the words of Isaiah, "Upon him was the chastisement that made us whole, and with his stripes we are healed."