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The drama of redemption raises a question you may not have considered: Who killed Jesus?
In The Pleasures of God, John Piper relates this moving story: “I have a friend in ministry who told me of a very powerful moment in preaching. He was speaking the Thursday night of Holy Week in a prison in Illinois. During his message on the death of Christ, he stopped and asked the inmates, ‘Who do you think killed Jesus?’ One said, ‘The Jews.’ Another said, ‘The soldiers.’ Another said, ‘Pilate.’ Another said, ‘Judas.’ My friend said, ‘No, I don’t think you’re right.’ They said, ‘Who then?’ He said, ‘His Father killed Him.’ ”
His Father killed Him. The drama of redemption is encapsulated in that one sentence, and in this one verse: “[God] made Him who knew no sin to be sin on our behalf, so that we might become the righteousness of God in Him” (2 Cor. 5:21, NASB.) Yes, the Jews and Romans shared in the guilt; the covenant people who failed to recognize their long-awaited Messiah joined forces with the Gentiles, “that every mouth may be stopped, and all the world may become guilty before God” (Rom. 3:19). And yet, it was ultimately the hand of God that drew all the threads together.
Recall Peter’s words on the day of Pentecost: “ ‘Him, being delivered by the determined purpose and foreknowledge of God, you have taken by lawless hands, have crucified, and put to death’ ” (Acts 2:23). Peter Lewis, in The Glory of Christ, expresses it beautifully: “For the cross is not simply or even primarily the result of the malice of men, but it is the work of God. Secretly, unsearchably, but nonetheless certainly, God’s mastering love moved behind the malice of men. They did their worst—but in their worst, God did His best. Out of different motives, all of them bad, Judas, Caiaphas, Pilate, and the soldiers all united to accomplish God’s unutterably good will.”
Abraham took Isaac up Mount Moriah because he trusted God to provide the sacrifice. Imagine the anguish that filled his heart until the moment the angel cried “Stop!” See the joy on his face as he placed the ram on the altar, the tears of relief drenching the animal as he slew it and offered it to God. His son, his only son, was given back to him unharmed.
Then see the Father as He sent His Son up Calvary, knowing that no one would hold back the nails, no one would cry “Stop!” no one would provide another sacrifice because no other sacrifice was sufficient. Had the Father not sent the Son, there would be no true Israel. Had the Father not killed the Son, there would have been no sacrifice without spot or blemish. Again, Lewis puts it eloquently: “For Calvary was as truly the work of the Father as of the Son. If we hold together these two we shall not make the wrong divisions between Father and Son at Calvary. It was not a case of Christ doing a work separately from His Father, but in perfect union and profound partnership with Him.… We may be sure of this: that Father, Son, and Spirit were united in the great atoning work, for ‘God was in Christ reconciling the world to Himself ’ ” (2 Cor. 5:19).
A presentation of the Gospel that implies that man is seeking to find peace with God, that God has done all He can and now waits patiently for man to “open the door,” is sheer nonsense bordering on blasphemy. The uniform witness of the New Testament is that reconciliation is always God’s work. The offended, not the offenders, initiates and fulfills the work of providing the sacrifice and making payment. The unsaved man seeks not to find justice but to make excuses. Indeed, he feels quite able to save himself, to rack up a sufficient number of good deeds, to cover his nakedness with clothing of his own manufacture. But ever since the Garden, God has gone seeking for the fallen and spiritually dead.
Scripture sings a unified chorus: God ensures the fulfillment of the covenant. He clothed Adam and Eve. He called a Mesopotamian idolater out of spiritual death and made him the father of many nations (Gen. 17:5). He walked between the sacrificial animals alone (Gen. 15), invoking a self-maledictory oath should He fail to keep His promise. He continually forgives and restores His wayward people. Though His people killed the prophets and stoned those sent to them (Matt. 23:37), He persisted, sending His own Son to die. God’s love is a jealous love that chooses some out of all, combines attitude with action, and perseveres in the face of spiritual adultery. The book of Hosea is filled with the imagery of a husband who, though constantly deserted by an immoral, wandering wife, remains faithful to his vows. God is that husband, who, rather than having His wife executed, pours out His heart in anguish: “ ‘How can I give you up, Ephraim? How can I hand you over, Israel?… For I am God, and not man, the Holy One in your midst’ ” (Hos. 11:8–9). Jeremiah echoes this fidelity: “The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases, His mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is Thy faithfulness” (Lam. 3:22, RSV).
It is difficult to believe that the God of the universe, the One who justly condemns the guilty, also protects them from His wrath and judgment by providing the sacrifice of His own Son. Thus, we must cry, “ ‘Lord, help my unbelief.’ ”