Before I started in full-time Christian ministry, I did various different jobs. The one I spent most time on was software development, but I've done other things as well. I've done data entry, I've done outbound telly marketing, I've done recruitment consultancy — all kinds of different things.
One of the jobs, though, that I would find very difficult to do would be to work in sales. I would find it very difficult to seek to persuade somebody else to buy something, unless I am utterly persuaded that the thing I'm trying to sell is genuinely the thing that the person I'm speaking to most needs. Unless you are convinced by something you want to sell, it is very hard indeed to be convincing.
Now, I've not got time to prove this to you and show you this morning, but I'm convinced that the reason Matthew wrote his gospel is that because he wishes to make disciple-making disciples. So he wants to persuade people to become Christians. But more than that, he wants to persuade people to become the kind of Christians who then, in their own turn, make others into disciples of Jesus as well. And so, as well as teaching us about Jesus for our own sake, he wrote his gospel to equip us to share our faith with others.
And I wonder if the death of Jesus is a bit like that sales pitch that I would be rubbish at. We know it should be central in our message as we share the good news of Jesus with others, but somehow when we get to that bit of the message, we lack conviction. We know that a religion that offers love, joy, hope, peace — that is an easy sell. But to pin it all onto a dying man, we secretly fear at the back of our minds, somehow makes the whole thing less persuasive. And so, we're tempted to go soft on the very bit of the gospel that we need to be most clear on.
Now, the irony, of course, is that after all that, I do work in sales. Part of my job is to persuade people to become Christians. Actually, you all work in sales. Remember, Matthew is making disciple-making disciples. So part of being a disciple of Jesus is to persuade others to follow him as well. So we all work in sales. And this chapter is here to make sure that when we get to the death of Jesus, we are convinced this is what people most need to hear, so that our sales is not half-hearted and unconvinced, but utterly convincing.
We're going to meet various people who witnessed the death of Jesus crucified, and we're going to witness them conclude that the way Jesus died undermines all the claims that were made about him. The soldiers — they conclude that somebody who is weak, humiliated, and in their power cannot be anything special. And the various people gathered around the cross as it took place are fixated on the fact that Jesus couldn't rescue himself. So it's repeated, isn't it? Verse 40: "Save yourself." Verse 42: "He can't save himself." Verse 43: "Let God rescue him." He couldn't rescue himself and therefore he cannot be the Messiah he claims to be.
So we're going to get under the skin of those embarrassing things that it's tempting to feel about the death of Jesus — tempting to feel about his weakness. And what I'm going to show you is four things that people find harder to believe about Jesus when they see his weakness and his death.
Plausible Saviour
So, number one: it's hard to see Jesus as a plausible saviour. It's hard to see him as a plausible saviour. So we get this in verse 42, don't we? "He saved others, but he can't save himself." Or, turn it round — if he can't save himself, how are we supposed to believe he's able to save anybody else? Rumours are spreading that he is a man who healed the deaf, the lame, the blind. Here's a man who freed the demon-possessed from oppression — well, those are the rumours. And if he can't save himself, how are we ever supposed to believe those rumours have any basis in fact?
And so, as we come to present Jesus to others, you see how we're tempted to say to people, "Well, I want to tell you about Jesus," but somehow to ask them to kind of pin all of their hopes on this weak, pathetic individual — well, it undermines everything. Maybe you're sat here this morning and you're thinking as I speak, Are you seriously asking me, with all the pressures, the weight, the stresses, the difficulties in my life — are you really asking me to put all of that onto this man? Really?
But in fact, that's exactly the point. Jesus had to choose who to save. In order to save us, he had to die to pay for our sins. He couldn't save them and us and himself, so he voluntarily chose to sacrifice himself in order to save us.
Plausible Sovereign
Number two: it's hard to see him as a plausible sovereign. Three times in this passage we get Jesus's title: the King of the Jews, or the King of Israel. And each time we meet it, it's here to be laughed at. The Roman soldiers — they know he's not a real king. That's why he's their plaything. Rather than giving them orders, they hold a fancy-dress party for him. They mock the very idea that he's a king. And the placard above Jesus's head — when someone was crucified, there was a board nailed to the cross above their head that gave the charges for which they were being executed. A bit like the ancient version of what used to be a blackboard on the door of the police cell that says, "This person is here for..." whatever it is. Jesus's charge? King of the Jews. Well, obviously it's not a crime to be a real king. The very fact it's there above his head says: We know he isn't a real king. We're crucifying him because he had the cheek to pretend he was.
And then the religious leaders — verse 42: "He saved others, he can't save himself. He's the King of Israel. Let him come down now from the cross, then we'll believe him." (Well, they wouldn't — but you get the point.) It's a joke. Here is your king, here is your sovereign. And everything in this passage makes you go, Yeah, right.
Just imagine — it's King Charles III's coronation. We prayed for him this morning, it's a good thing to do. And billions around the world turn on their television sets or fire up their favourite video streaming service to watch live. And what they see is not the grandeur and gilt of Westminster Abbey. They see him stripped, humiliated, spat upon and laughed at. They'd think they've got the wrong channel, wouldn't they? This is not a way to honour the Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland, protector of the Commonwealth. And yet that's how the king is treated.
But in fact, that is exactly the point. Here is a king like no other. This is the king who chooses to suffer for his people rather than expect his people to suffer to protect his own comfort.
Plausible Son of God
Number three: hard to see him as a plausible Son of God. Verse 40: "You who are going to destroy the temple and build it in three days, save yourself! Come down from the cross if you are the Son of God!" Echoes some words from Satan earlier in Matthew's gospel, doesn't it? Gets sharper in verse 43: "He trusts in God. Let God rescue him now if he wants him, for he said, 'I am the Son of God.'" What kind of Son of God would be abandoned by God to suffer in this way? Wouldn't God surely step in and rescue him? He doesn't look very divine as he hangs on the cross, helpless.
And yet once again, that's exactly the point. Verse 45: "From noon until three in the afternoon, darkness came over all the land. About three in the afternoon Jesus cried out in a loud voice, 'Eli, Eli, lama sabachthani?' — which means, 'My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?'" Here is Jesus, the Son, forsaken by the Father as the judgement that should have fallen on us fell on him. Here's the wonderful thing, you see: here is God's Son, and here is someone suffering God's anger and judgement — and the beautiful and wonderful thing is that both are true.
Plausible Sanctuary
And number four: it doesn't look a very plausible sanctuary. What do I mean? We needed a fourth S — that's what we mean! But what do I mean by that? Well, verse 40: "You who are going to destroy the temple and build it in three days, save yourself!" Now this picks up on something that was said of Jesus during his trial. They were looking for something to accuse him of, a charge that would stick — they found nothing. So, verse 60 in Matthew 26: "They did not find any evidence to put him to death, though many false witnesses came forward. Finally, two came forward and declared, 'This fellow said, I am able to destroy the temple of God and rebuild it in three days.'"
Now, Matthew doesn't record the background to that statement, but John in his gospel does. John chapter 2 records how Jesus invited his opponents to destroy this temple. He invited them to destroy — didn't say he would — he invited them to destroy it: "Destroy this temple, and I will rebuild it in three days." And John comments that the temple he spoke of was his own body.
Now, they think that's utterly ridiculous. Who can build the temple in three days? Can't be done. Certainly can't be done if you're dead. That's why they think it's a joke. And yet, once again, it's exactly the point. They're doing the first part — they're destroying the body, the temple, Jesus's body. And in three days, he'll do the second half — he'll raise it up as a new temple, a place where we can go to meet with God.
So what we've got here are four claims about Jesus. They're all Messianic claims — things that the long-promised Messiah would do: he would save others, he would be God's Son, he would be the true sovereign King, he would be the true sanctuary — the place we can go to meet with God. And in every case, the people here think that Jesus's death undermines those claims, whereas in fact it is Jesus's death that makes those claims possible.
What happens next is that Jesus's death unfolds in details that precisely echo the Old Testament. He's offered wine laced with a sedative — Psalm 69, verse 21. His clothes are gambled for — Psalm 22, verse 18. He cries out from the cross quoting Psalm 22, verse 1. And when he is thirsty, he's offered a drink of refreshing Sarson's milk vinegar — Psalm 69, verse 21. Psalms 22 and 69 are the two psalms out of the 150 that most vividly describe the suffering that David had to endure before his kingdom was established.
Now, people think that for Jesus to suffer and die like this — it proves false any idea that he is the promised Messiah descended from David. But in fact, the exact details show that he was treated precisely as David was before him. And it actually vindicates his claim to be the Messiah.
So we've looked at the ways in which we're tempted — because of the death of Jesus — to be slightly embarrassed, slightly to hold back. And actually, we've seen that those are not true. We don't need to be embarrassed by the death of Jesus. There are answers to those claims — in fact, they work the other way.
But let's now go further and see why Jesus's death is actually central, why it's something we must delight in. And it's to do with the fact that the moment Jesus dies, two things happen. At that exact moment, in fact, two things open up.
Open Temple
Number one: we have an open temple.
Verse 51: "At that moment, the curtain of the temple was torn in two from top to bottom."
What is this curtain? Well, within the temple you had the outer courts. Then you had the Holy Place. Only the priests could go into the Holy Place. Go a bit further in, you have the Most Holy Place. Only the High Priest could go in there, and only once a year, and after a very elaborate sequence of sacrifices. The curtain was what hung between the Holy Place and the Most Holy Place. The Most Holy Place was where the Ark of the Covenant, God was—it was where God himself was supposed, symbolically, to live.
There's a massive irony here. The very presence of the temple—and the Tabernacle before it—was a way of God saying he's not a distant God. He wants to live amongst his people, in their midst. And yet, the irony is, right as you get to, as it were, God's bedroom doorway—where God actually was—there was a huge "No Entry" sign. He wants to live amongst his people, and yet within that system is the evidence that actually, that cannot be. We cannot enter God's presence.
Now, there's rich symbolism here as well. There were cherubim embroidered into that curtain. We met cherubim when we looked at the book of Ezekiel, you may remember. They are not the cute little babies, of which we've seen a little this morning. They were angelic warriors, woven into the curtain. And then, on the woodwork and the interior of the temple were engraved— it would have been utterly beautiful—palm trees all around.
Now go back to Genesis chapter 2. That was an era when humans lived with God. God lived with us. We would go for a pleasant afternoon walk with God when the sun was less hot, from about four o'clock onwards—a wonderful, close relationship with our God. But then we sinned, and we were expelled from the Garden of Eden. And the entrance back into the garden was guarded by cherubim. The entrance back into the Garden of Eden—you'd have had to have entered it from the east.
Guess which direction the entrance of the temple was facing? So the whole of the Most Holy Place was a kind of stylised garden, with these beautiful palm trees and cherubim guarding the way in.
I mean, as Jesus dies on the cross, at that very moment, that curtain is torn in two from top to bottom. God tore it—not us. And it's God saying to the cherubim guarding the entrance back into the Garden of Eden: "You may stand down. You are no longer required. People can walk straight in now."
Nobody did. Okay, when that curtain tore—yay, in we go? Nobody did that. Why not?
Apparently, they didn't understand. Partly—put yourself in the picture of a railway engineer working on an electrified railway. One of your mates, two miles down, has disconnected the live rail. How do you check the live rail is dead? Okay, what you don't do is that—just to make sure. So that's why, nebulously, someone gingerly stuck a toe over—because if it hadn't actually been deactivated, that would be their last thing.
So, no. What they actually did was, they got a gigantic sewing machine, and they stitched it back up fast, before anybody got the wrong idea. But actually, they could have gone in, because the way into God's presence really is open.
Before that point—without Jesus—entry into the presence of God meant instant death. And there are stories in the Old Testament where that did happen. But now, we can be with God. We can enjoy his blessing. We can enjoy his friendship. Which is why we can pray. It's why we can gather to worship.
The entrance to God's presence is open: an open temple.
Open Tombs
Number two: open tombs.
Now, this is where it gets a little weird. This little incident is only recorded in Matthew of the four Gospels. And I know many Christians who have never even been aware this is in the Bible.
Let me read to you from the second half of verse 51: "The earth shook, the rocks split, and the tombs broke open. The bodies of many holy people who had died were raised to life. They came out of the tombs after Jesus’s resurrection. They went into the holy city and appeared to many people."
So what happened is this. There was an earthquake when Jesus died. As the ground cracked, a number of graves—tombs—were cracked open. But the weird bit is, the people buried in them came back to life. And on the third day, they were actually seen—and you could have breakfast with them.
Now, this is not the general resurrection at the end of time, because it's just some. And it's just temporary.
It's just temporary, because all of these people would one day die again. The four Gospels record three stories of Jesus miraculously raising someone to life—Jairus’s daughter, Lazarus, and the son of a woman who lived in a town called Nain. But all three of those would one day die again. Jesus simply raised them to pick up life where they left off.
If you imagine death as a kind of tunnel, what had happened is these people had fallen ill and, as a result, they had died. They'd gone into the tunnel. And what Jesus did was he grabbed them by the ankles and pulled them out of the tunnel the way they went in, so they could simply resume living. But one day, they would get old, or they would get sick, or something would happen—an accident—and they would need to go back into the tunnel. They would need to die, like all of us will.
It's just temporary. And it's just some. We're not told exactly how many people were raised to life. We're just told it was—quote—"many." But everybody else in Jerusalem who was buried somewhere? They just stayed dead. Everybody else anywhere else in the country, or anywhere else in the world? They just stayed dead. It was just some—many, but not everybody. And it was just temporary.
But there is a day coming when everyone will come back to life—and it will be forever.
So, here's John chapter 5, verses 28 and 29: "Do not be amazed at this," says Jesus, "for a time is coming when all who are in their graves will hear his voice and come out—those who have done what is good will rise to live, and those who have done what is evil will rise to be condemned."
This is not just death being dragged out the tunnel the way you went in. This is Jesus taking you out of the tunnel the other side—to live forever.
Now, for some that means a forever of God's judgement and punishment. For others, it means a forever of enjoying life as it was meant to be—and you never dreamed imaginable. But for all of us, it's forever. Which you get depends on whether you trusted Jesus in this life for forgiveness, or not. But it's forever. And it's everyone.
So this is not that. But it is a foretaste of it.
But notice the timing. They came to life when he died. They were seen alive when he rose. But they came to life when Jesus died—not when he rose. And Matthew records this happening next to his description of Jesus’s death. He does not wait until the description of the resurrection to record it.
Now, you might be used to the idea that Jesus’s resurrection is what guarantees that we will rise. For the song we sang last week asks the question: “Whose resurrection means I'll rise?” Now, this is a biblical idea. Jesus is called the firstfruits—the firstborn from the dead. Because he rose, everybody else will as well. It's thoroughly biblical.
But it's not Matthew’s point. Matthew’s point is: because Jesus died, death is defeated, and the grave is open, and there is life from death—because he died.
The Centurion
And then, before the passage closes, we meet the Centurion. And we meet the others who were tasked with guarding Jesus at the cross.
This man is both an encouragement to us, and a warning. He's an encouragement, because everybody else looked at the way Jesus died and concluded he couldn't possibly be who he claimed to be. There's no way he was the Son of God. The Centurion shows that is not the only response you have to make. The Centurion looked at the way Jesus died, and he said: “Surely he was the Son of God.”
But as well as being an encouragement, he's also a warning. Did you notice how he and the others exclaimed that this was so—utterly terrified?
Why were they terrified? Because they'd realised who he was—too late.
If they had twigged who he was ten minutes earlier—possibly, just possibly (medically unlikely, but maybe)—they could have got him down, resuscitated him, and prevented what was the single biggest miscarriage of justice that there has ever been.
But they didn’t realise ten minutes ago. The moment they realised was the exact moment he breathed his last breath. And at that point, it was too late. They were realising with horror that they had killed the wrong man. And that the man they had killed really was the wrong man to kill.
You really did not want to kill the person who turns out to be the Son of God and King of the universe. That is not good. And they realised it at exactly the moment it was too late to do anything about it.
There will come a day when every human being will see exactly who Jesus is. Tragically for many, that moment will come too late. It will come at the moment you've already taken your last breath, and the opportunity to respond to that Jesus in repentance and trust—and so to receive forgiveness—is in the past.
And that will be a terrible time to realise that this is the case.
But this Centurion gives us hope. He means it is possible to look at Jesus hanging on the cross and see precisely who it is. And for everybody in this room today, and for all of your friends that you want to tell this about later—it is not too late. Not yet.
Conclusion
Here is the one who can save us from sin and death. Here is the one who is our true sovereign King, before whom all the world will bow. Here is the one who is God's one and only Son. Here is the true sanctuary—the place where we can come and enter the presence of God and know him, and live with him.
"When Jesus had cried out again in a loud voice, he gave up his spirit. Surely he was the Son of God."