​Three little words—a noun, a verb, and an adjective or object—a short sentence, but it can pack a powerful punch.  Take for instance, many of the three little words I’ve heard while leading expeditions: “We are lost,” tearful, trembling participants have confessed to their group members.  “I am afraid,” words admitted by numerous courageous people when faced with overwhelming leadership pressures and decisions.  “I need help,” one girl told her group as she struggled with the weight of her pack.  She had struggled all day to speak such a simple phrase that made all the difference.  “We found it!” jubilant navigators have said after searching for hours to find an elusive waypoint circled on a complex topo map.  One participant, who had wrestled throughout the expedition with self-doubt, emerged from the wilderness at the end of the trip surprised and elated, saying, “I did it!”  Three little words can reveal a world of inner turmoil or joy.  

Consider famous headlines that have marked milestones in our culture.  The headline from The News, April 1955, simply said, “Einstein is dead.”  No explanation was necessary for these three words that communicated the loss of someone everyone agreed was great.  How about the impact of the words that read on the front page of the November 11, 1918, issue of The Daily Telegram?  “World War… Over!”  The soldiers knee-deep in muddy Belgian trenches along with people all over the planet breathed a sigh of relief at those three little words.  And what about the headlines from a little closer to home? “America’s Darkest Day” and “Terror Hits Home.” It took just three words in the newspaper headlines to convey our nation’s shock after the attacks on Sept 11, 2001.  Just three little words, but they expressed the collective horror of an entire society.

With just three little words, so much can be communicated.  It was a cursory read though an all-too-familiar passage of scripture—the crucifixion of Jesus—that started these thoughts.  The gospel narratives of this event are the most central to the entire Christian faith.  It’s the fulcrum of the gospel and the fulfillment of the Old Testament.  I heard it as a child sitting on my granddad’s knee, read it in my children’s Bible primer during elementary school, and studied it in depth as a Bible college student. However, a few weeks ago as I read it again, I latched on to the little bite-sized phrases that pack a lot of theological power, and most of them appear as a three-word remark.  Readying my heart for Resurrection Sunday, I found myself meditating on the old, old story in simpler, more potent terms. 
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Take up the story in the gospel of John chapter 18.  Jesus and his disciples have finished eating the last supper; Judas has excused himself to plot a coup; and the setting is a quiet olive grove at night on the outskirts of Jerusalem where Jesus is praying so fervently that he sweats not bullets but blood.  Then Judas shows up with a band of Jewish armed guards but they stand there awkwardly until Jesus strides out and asks, “Who are you looking for?” 

Intending to seize the Christ they reply, “Jesus of Nazareth.”  In a moment of sheer mystery and utter strength, Jesus says the first three words that caught my attention, “I am He.”  Three little words, but their impact causes the brawny, swashbuckling soldiers to literally fall down upon themselves in a heap.  In the face of this “I Am” statement, they are powerless to obtain Jesus by force.  Therefore, He gives Himself away to them.  As He is led to His unlawful, all-night trial, ironically His chief follower stands outside the gate speaking his own “I am” statement. 
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A servant girl questions Peter, “Aren’t you a disciple of Jesus?”  His response is short and terse, “I am not.”  A second time, he is questioned, and again he answers, “I am not.”  It is a servant of the high priest who finally confirms, “I’m sure you’re a disciple of that man on trial.”  Peter emphatically, with an oath speaks three little words, “I AM NOT!”  Peter’s own three little words uttered right before the cock crows pierce his heart and send him running out into the night, weeping over his own betrayal of the One he has faithfully followed and so earnestly sought to defend.  

​Later in the story, Jesus stands before Pontius Pilot, the Roman governor, for questioning.  The Jews want Jesus dead, but they lack the authority to carry out the sentence.  They need Rome’s permission.  So, the uninformed Pilot questions Jesus.  And, Jesus tells him point-blank that He has been sent by God to testify to truth, something so mysterious and so elusive that Pilot asks with skepticism, “What is truth?” These three little words of Pilot are absurd when you think about the fact that the Truth is standing right in front of him.  Despite feeble attempts to free Jesus, in the end, Pilate simply washes his hands of the business and grants the verdict the crowd is demanding—death. 
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This brings me to the next three little words, so appalling, scandalous, and cutting to my soul that as I read them from my 21st century perspective, I feel a lump in my throat forming: “They crucified Him.”  How is it possible that we could do such a thing to such a Man…to such a God?  See Him?  His arms are outstretched; the rugged spikes are pounded through His wrist bones pinning Him helplessly to the cross.  There’s a sense of finality, like the scene in a movie when you know the hero isn’t going to escape.  We avert our eyes because total surrender, total vulnerability, and total loss are too devastating to watch.  Jesus, the Lamb of God, has made Himself helpless.  “They crucified Him,” three little words that shook the foundations of heaven.
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Jesus is raised on the cross, and struggling for breath, He can only utter a few short statements, which is not surprising considering His extreme exhaustion from the past 24 hours—an intentional last supper, an intense prayer time in the garden, an illicit trial complete with repeated beatings, and an injurious and vicious flogging the likes of which often killed a man, complete with a thorn-studded crown smashed into His skull.  There Jesus hangs from nails with His earthly life rapidly fading.  With his last ounce of energy and with one final breath, He speaks three little words, “It is finished.”  The veil of the temple is torn; the sky is all darkness; the women who cared for Jesus are weeping; and one Roman guard falls to his knees, declaring in earnest, “This was God.”  And Almighty God, Father, Abba, Maker of heaven and earth, whose heart has been breaking right along with His beloved Son’s, with just three little words is restored to His children.

​In the aftermath of these events, the Jewish leaders celebrate; Pilot sulks; and the disciples hide in fear behind locked doors until the third day when some of the women go to visit the tomb of Jesus.  They find neither guards nor a stone blocking the entrance.  Instead, angels clothed in white radiance greet them with the best three words they have ever heard, “He has risen!”  Just three little words resound in time…words that change the disciples fear into boldness, words that confound the haters and convict the doubters, words that turn the world upside down with more than just a far-fetched legend, but far-reaching, life altering, good news.  “He has risen!” three little words that brought life and conquered death.  For us today, those three little words cause us to celebrate three little words that only exist because of Jesus, “We are Free!”  

 “So if the Son sets you free, you will be free indeed.”  John 8:36

Through the ages, when folks wanted to worship, they would gather supplies, muster their strength, band together, and build.  Worship, true homage to God, demanded a tabernacle, a temple, or an altar be built before psalms, prayers, and sacrifices could begin.   The other day a simple truth about worship sank in as I, too, gathered supplies, mustered my strength, and banded together with some brothers in Christ to continue working on our new staff house here at DM.

We had been working on random days to build but were now under the gun to get a roof on the structure to protect the timbers from UV rays and rain showers.  A team of volunteers donated their valuable time to bolster our staff so that we might complete the task.  In less than two days, we hoped to cover the bare trusses with sheathing, place the underlayment barrier, and finally screw down a blanket of metal panels that would protect the house for the coming decades.  Honestly, as I considered the probability of completing the task within the time constrains, it seemed next to impossible.  

​Because none of us would gain much personally from the work we did, one might expect to see people standing around, leaning on shovels, taking extra breaks to shoot the breeze, or knocking off early in search of some food and relaxation.  I saw none of these things, however.  Over those few hours, joyful volunteers and underpaid camp staff threw themselves into the task as though it were their highest aim in life—as though they would earn a fat paycheck at week’s end or someday live in this home as they raised kids and grew old with their spouses.  No, these workers would see no such benefits of their labor, yet they poured themselves into the assignment.
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As we worked, I discovered something else being built in my heart, mind, and spirit.  We were not just building something that would someday enhance our worship and pleasure.  We had joined together to worship through the process of construction right here…right now.  

​In chapter four of John’s gospel, Jesus rests beside the town well in the despised region of Palestine called Samaria.  Here, He has a surprising conversation with a local woman.  It is surprising because the culture does not approve of a holy-man speaking with a lone woman, and it is even less acceptable for Jesus, a Jew, to speak to a Samaritan.  I love that Jesus disregards the oppressive and engrained social stigmas and forges ahead with His purpose.  He initiates a deeper conversation than the well they were drawing water from, to focus on the topic of worship and identity.  In this exchange, Jesus reveals a remodel of the whole order of things as He clarifies Whom and how we should be worshipping.  As pastor and teacher, Mark Moore puts it, “Jesus now introduces a new relationship with God where the Spirit of God and the spirit of man co-mingle.”  It’s a concept of worship that was inconceivable to ancient believers and somewhat unpalatable even to us in the 21st century.  

Jesus said to the woman, “You worship what you do not know; we worship what we know, for salvation is from the Jews.  But the hour is coming, and is now here, when the true worshipers will worship the Father in spirit and truth, for the Father is seeking such people to worship Him.  God is spirit, and those who worship Him must worship in spirit and truth” John 4:22-24 (ESV).

The Jews of Jesus’ time needed the temple, the structure, to really truly worship, but Jesus makes His first clear statement in His ministry about how things were going to change.  Interestingly, it is also to this wayward, Samaritan woman that He first reveals who He really is—the Messiah.  In this private conversation, He simply says that the true worshipers will worship in Spirit and in truth. 
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Jesus says worship requires a willing heart rather than a fancy temple.  But does this make it any easier to worship?  In some ways, yes.  Now we are the temple of the Holy Spirit, so now we can worship in Spirit and in truth any time, anywhere.  But for many of us, it might be simpler just to have a place that makes it official, to have a duty to fulfill, and to have a box to check that says we did enough to fulfill worship for another week.  Maybe this attitude explains why many of us still gravitate to a church sanctuary for “real” worship, complete with an organ piping out the old hymns, penned in past times and leaving us the perception of happier days, hallowed songs written by holier people.  Don’t get me wrong, the church sanctuary, in my opinion, is where last week’s worship ends and this week’s worship begins, but the building is not the place reserved for worship in Spirit and truth.  Worship flows from the heart.  

This brings me full circle back to the house project where, at the end of the time set aside to build, we gazed at our handiwork.  The roof lay secure and complete!   Wearily we leaned on the shoulder of the man next to us and just stood in silent appreciation for the seeming miracle we were beholding.  It wasn’t a church sanctuary; there had been no singing except the song of the hammers and nails, but it was worship in Spirit and in truth. 
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As we considered our accomplishment, we weren’t worshiping ourselves—our abilities or success.  We had been worshiping God through all the long hours of labor because it was within that process of sacrificing ourselves to a greater purpose where our spirits mingled with the Spirit of the Almighty, resulting in nothing short of true worship. 

“I appeal to you therefore, brothers, by the mercies of God, to present your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and acceptable to God, which is your spiritual worship.”  Romans 12:1 ESV

Have you ever been recognized as a hero?  I’ve experienced this accolade a few times in my outdoor pursuits. There was the time a few buddies and I climbed Devil’s Tower in Wyoming.  Just loading our climbing gear in the busy, tourist parking lot attracted a lot of hero worship, and we hadn’t even set foot on the climb yet.  As one of my friends simply walked along the base of the Tower with his rack of climbing cams slung over his shoulder, he drew a small crowd of curious hikers.  By the time I caught up to him, he was lecturing like a college professor on the finer points of lead-climbing.  For all the crowd knew, he was as expert as they come.  I knew better since he and I had only done lead-climbs a handful of times. 
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Later after we had made it to the top and descended back to the base, we truly felt a little less like posers and more like the real deal.  Eager hero worshippers, who wanted to have their picture taken with us when we returned to the parking lot, bolstered our egos.  They seemed to think that whatever it was they admired about us would rub off on them a little.  What they didn’t know was that I hadn’t slept a wink the night before, fearing that I might die climbing the route.  They didn’t know that we had chosen the absolute easiest way up and that we barely knew what we were doing.  They had no idea that our heroism was more an illusion that a reality and that, in truth, under the image and climbing equipment, we were normal—just like they were.  

All of this fleeting renown caused me to think, how does any hero remain constant over the ages?  I can’t remember off the top of my head who won the MVP in the super bowl 10 years ago.  I don’t remember who won an Oscar for best actor last year or the year before.  Moreover, few of us could even remember the most famous people from the 1950’s or 60’s.  I’m not suggesting that we succumb to hero worship; I’m just trying to understand how we can be so dedicated one minute and fickle the next.  How can one go from being a raw novice one minute to being an honored expert the next and then come full circle back to taking up space in the “average-person line?” 
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Experts, according to one online essay I read, say, “Hero worship is deeply rooted in how we form attachments and learn from others….we still look for figures who embody strength, success, and security,” (takingthehelmcounselling.co.uk).  This helps make sense of why people can so quickly attach themselves to those they view as larger than life.  But there is a dark side.  According to the same online source, “One of the biggest dangers of hero worship is the development of unrealistic expectations.”  That idea explains why so few of us last very long as heroes.  In truth, we weren’t really all that heroic to begin with.  

As I pondered all this, I thought of all the heroes and famous people whose reputations have lasted over the ages, and I couldn’t think of anyone more successful at this than Jesus.  It’s amazing how He’s accomplished this, considering that studies show people to be drawn to heroes who permeate strength, success, and security.  Let’s look at Jesus’ track record for this.

• Strength?  He was hung on a cross, meekly led there like a sheep to the slaughter. 
• Success?  Wasn’t it Jesus who told His disciples that if they wanted to be the greatest, they had to first become the servant of all—that the first would be last?
• Security?  In one biblical account, Jesus tells a man to sell everything he owns, give the proceeds to the poor, and then come follow Him. 

Jesus seems to get it all wrong if He wants to build a reputation as a hero. Nevertheless, He’s the most stalwart, heroic figure in history.  What are we missing?
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There’s something in us that loves and admires that which we aspire to be but rarely, if ever, achieve, like the tourists who admired our Grand Canyon achievement.  Some of them may have been inspired to hike the rims themselves someday, and they certainly could recognize the hard work we had put into accomplishing the feat.  Then, there’s a part of us that makes a hero out of one who does what we have not had the courage, discipline, or strength to do ourselves.  

"He is the radiance of the glory of God and the exact imprint of his nature,
and he upholds the universe by the word of his power.”
Hebrews 1:3 ESV