God Is Self-Sacrificing

Unrequited love might be the most painful of all human experiences. To love someone and not be loved in return is a deep hurt, an excruciating ache. God experienced the pain of unrequited love. Some people object to the notion that God could feel pain—or feel anything at all. Their narrative tells them that God is impassable, meaning he cannot be moved. This narrative seems to protect God’s power. But if God loves others (“God so loved the world” [John 3:16]), he must also necessarily feel the pain of unrequited love. I have noticed that the people who have trouble believing God could feel pain or joy also have trouble believing Jesus could feel pain or uncertainty—or even joy. Did Jesus laugh? Did he ever feel awkward? Did Jesus ever get his feelings hurt? The Scriptures tell us that he experienced human life in its fullness, so I suspect he did.

My friend Rich Mullins once wrote a beautiful song about Jesus called “Boy Like Me/Man Like You.” In it he wonders if Jesus, as a child, felt the same things we do:

Did You grow up hungry?

Did You grow up fast?

Did the little girls giggle when You walked past?

Did You wonder what it was that made them laugh? . . .

Did You wrestle with a dog and lick his nose?

Did You play beneath the spray of a water hose?

Did You ever make angels in the winter snow? . . .

Did You ever get scared playing hide and seek?

Did You try not to cry when You scraped Your knee?

Did You ever skip a rock across a quiet creek?

Rich told me one day that his favorite line in the song is the one about making snow angels. Why? He said, “I love the image of the One who made the actual angels as a little boy making angels in the snow.”

How can self-sacrifice be a sign of strength, not weakness?

I think we have trouble with God feeling joy and pain because we think they are beneath God. Being vulnerable, we think, seems weak. But maybe not. Maybe vulnerability is true strength. Maybe sacrificing yourself for the good of another is not a sign of weakness but is the greatest power the world ever knows.

The question, “Why did God do this for us when we did not deserve it?” still needs to be explored. Edward Yarnold responds: “Why did the Father will [the crucifixion]?3 . . . May one suggest that the answer is that human nature is made in God’s own image? The law of the grain of wheat reflects God’s own nature: the glory of God himself lies in self-giving. The members of Christ’s body, then, share the life of the Head, who bears a crown of glory which is still a crown of thorns.”

At the heart of the universe is this one principle: self-sacrifice is the highest act. The grain of wheat must die in order to give life. The cosmos reflects the nature of the God who created it. Jesus said, “No one has greater love than this, to lay down one’s life for one’s friends” (John 15:13).

How is self-sacrifice the highest act of all?

Self-giving seems like a weakness. But it is an aspect of love. In 1 Corinthians 13:4-5 we read, “Love is patient; love is kind; love is not envious or boastful or arrogant or rude. It does not insist on its own way.” Most of us live with the false narrative that strength is found in domination and control. But these are not the highest forms of power. God’s power is made perfect in weakness (2 Corinthians 12:9). The power of the seed emerges only when the seed dies. The power of God is demonstrated most clearly on the cross.

God the Son enters our world in the lowest of all conditions, lives an utterly ordinary life for thirty years, experiences everything we experience, points the world to his Father in his teaching and in his life, and then willingly performs the ultimate sacrifice: he gives his life for all of the world, the Lamb of God taking away the world’s sin. “I will sacrifice myself for your good” is the sentiment of God. And we, in our small moments of sacrifice, feel something of what God feels (freedom, release, exhilaration, purpose, meaning), if only for a few moments.

Author and speaker Brennan Manning has an amazing story about how he got the name “Brennan.” While growing up, his best friend was Ray. The two of them did everything together: bought a car together as teenagers, double-dated together, went to school together and so forth. They even enlisted in the Army together, went to boot camp together and fought on the frontlines together. One night while sitting in a foxhole, Brennan was reminiscing about the old days in Brooklyn while Ray listened and ate a chocolate bar. Suddenly a live grenade came into the foxhole. Ray looked at Brennan, smiled, dropped his chocolate bar and threw himself on the live grenade. It exploded, killing Ray, but Brennan’s life was spared.

When we talk about the power of God we often think about the mighty acts God has done, and not the incarnation and the crucifixion. Why?

When Brennan became a priest he was instructed to take on the name of a saint. He thought of his friend, Ray Brennan. So he took on the name Brennan. Years later he went to visit Ray’s mother in Brooklyn. They sat up late one night having tea when Brennan asked her, “Do you think Ray loved me?” Mrs. Brennan got up off of the couch, shook her finger in front of Brennan’s face and shouted, “Jesus Christ—what more could he have done for you?!” Brennan said that at that moment he experienced an epiphany. He imagined himself standing before the cross of Jesus wondering, Does God really love me? and Jesus’ mother Mary pointing to her son, saying, “Jesus Christ—what more could he have done for you?”

Brennan Manning admitted that he has wondered, Does God really love me? even though he knows the Christian story. Have you ever wondered if God really loves you? If so, what might be one way to help you find a clear answer?

The cross of Jesus is God’s way of doing all he could do for us. And yet we often wonder, Does God really love me? Am I important to God? Does God care about me? And Jesus’ mother responds, “What more could he have done for you?” In our best moments, those times we willingly sacrifice our own needs for the good of others, we are participating, as Edward Yarnold said, in the image of God. We were made in God’s image, and he willingly sacrificed himself for others. The more we come to know this God, and the more we understand our true nature, the more natural self-sacrifice will become for us.

Stories of those who sacrifice for the good of another resonate deeply with the human spirit. We see such stories in literature and film. In The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, C. S. Lewis has Aslan, the great lion who is the Christ figure, tricking the White Witch (Satan) by offering his own life to pay the price of Edmund’s transgression. The White Witch happily agrees, thinking she has defeated Aslan and his kingdom forever. But the White Witch does not know the “Deep Magic,” namely, that an innocent who dies willingly for the guilty creates a force of energy more powerful than death. That is the great paradox of self-sacrifice.

When Jesus left his heavenly throne and assumed our humanity and ultimately faced execution, he went from being the most powerful being to the weakest. Paul explains this using the beautiful words of an early Christian hymn:

Though he was in the form of God,

[Jesus] did not regard equality with God

as something to be exploited,

but emptied himself,

taking the form of a slave,

being born in human likeness.

And being found in human form,

he humbled himself

and became obedient to the point of death—

even death on a cross.

Therefore God also highly exalted him

and gave him the name

that is above every name,

so that at the name of Jesus

every knee should bend,

in heaven and on earth and under the earth,

and every tongue should confess

that Jesus Christ is Lord,

to the glory of God the Father. (Philippians 2:6-11)

Describe when someone made a sacrifice for your well-being. Think of a time when you sacrificed for someone else. How did you feel? Could this be a sign that you are “made in God’s image”?

That is the paradox of self-sacrifice: by emptying and humbling himself and becoming obedient, Jesus was “highly exalted.” When Jesus was asked who the greatest is in the kingdom of God, he replied, “Whoever becomes humble like this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven” (Matthew 18:4). The greatest are those who serve. This narrative is directly opposed to the teachings of the kingdom of this world, where the greatest are those who are served.

Forgiving someone makes us appear weak and vulnerable, but it actually reveals strength and power. When victims forgive they become victors—not over others but for others. Our weakness prevents us from being able to forgive. Our fear keeps us from surrender and sacrifice. But people “in whom Christ dwells” learn to live and to give as Jesus did. Jesus is not merely a model to emulate or imitate, he is a source of strength to rely upon. We can do all things through Christ who strengthens us (Philippians 4:13).

Let’s return to my sister Vicki and her question, “Why did Jesus have to die?” Jesus did not have to die, Jesus chose to die. The Father, Son and Spirit worked in harmony to reach out to a fallen and broken world in order to restore it. God did for us what we could never do for ourselves. The cross is a symbol of God’s love and sacrifice. Jesus assumed and healed our human condition, and in doing so he demonstrated the depths of God’s love for all of creation.

Here is a key principle of the kingdom of God: What we let go of will never be lost but becomes a thing of beauty. No wonder the manger and the cross are two of the most beautiful images this world has ever seen. In the incarnation God, who created millions of spinning galaxies, chose to become vulnerable, and in so doing, heaven came down and kissed the earth. In the crucifixion God, who could not die, subjected himself to death, and in so doing lifted the whole world to himself.

After six months of studying and reflecting on the cross, on the nature of a God who self-sacrifices, Vicki wrote me a beautiful letter explaining how she had finally, at the age of fifty-six, understood what the cross was all about. She attached the letter to a gift. I opened it and found inside a beautiful work of art in the shape of a cross, which I proudly put on my shelf in a place where I see it regularly. Every time I glance at it I give thanks to God who willingly died for us. Jesus was right when he prophesied, “And I, when I am lifted up from the earth, will draw all people to myself” (John 12:32).