It’s Passion Week, and I’ve been thinking about lions.

In Philippians 2 I was reading about how our Lord Jesus humbled Himself to the death of the cross, so God highly exalted Him.

That made me think about I Peter 5:6-9. It says, “Humble yourselves, therefore under the mighty hand of God, that He may exalt you in due time . . .”

Of course this passage applies to us, but this time I thought about how that “you” is true of Jesus as well. He humbled Himself. He was exalted. So I read the whole passage in I Peter as if it were about Jesus.

“ . . . casting all your care upon him; for he careth for you.”  Didn’t He always cast all His care on His Father?

“Be sober, be vigilant, because your adversary, the devil, like a roaring lion walketh about, seeking whom he may devour; . . .” Didn’t He stand sober and vigilant against His adversary? Didn’t He resist that adversary steadfast in the faith? And what about that lion?

I looked up some old notes of mine from I Peter 5:6-9. I had written, “I went through the time of the roaring lion trying to devour my soul.” And again, another time, “I have been in the presence of the roaring lion for an extended period, more than ever before in my life. It emphasized to me the importance of that sobriety and watchfulness of spirit in this passage.”

And throughout the life of Jesus, and especially as Jesus went to the cross, the lion roared. Roared to split the earth in two.

“ . . . whom resist steadfast in the faith . . .”  He stood against that enemy. He resisted him.

“ . . . knowing that the same afflictions are accomplished in your brethren that are in the world.”  Certainly Jesus knew that his brothers all over the world would also be facing off with the enemy, in His strength. They would also face persecution. They would die for His sake.

Then, thinking about that made me think about Psalm 22, the perfect psalm for Passion Week, where Jesus talks about “declaring your name to my brothers, praising You in the midst of the great congregation.” That psalm begins with one word from the cross, ends with another word from the cross, and in between describes everything that was going in Jesus’ heart . . . in between.

And look—there was that roaring lion again. Not once, but twice.

“They gaped upon me with their mouths, like a ravening and a roaring lion.”

 “Save me from the lion’s mouth.”

In the death of Christ, the lion roared. The lion roared, as if he had gotten the victory.

But through the very thing that he thought had gained him the victory-—the bloody death of Christ—he was trounced.  And then the triumphant resurrection of Christ, which delivered the death blow to that lion.

In the suffering of Christians, that lion roars. Always looking for some victory, trying to devour some believer—even in his death throes. But ultimately he will be forever defeated, in the very thing in which he thinks to gain the victory, as suffering believers resist him steadfast in the faith. Even in suffering, the work of God is accomplished.

So we remember that ultimately—Passion Week and always—the lion roars in vain.  Never forget that, even when the battle is fierce. In Christ, we are completely victorious, because that lion has already been defeated.

That’s what the Israelites said after they got the report from the spies about those giants in the land of Canaan. Eight or nine feet tall. Made the spies feel like grasshoppers.

“Who is God trying to kid? There’s no way we can go in there and take the land of Canaan from people like that. We are not able.”

This in spite of the fact that Caleb and Joshua had just said, “We are well able to overcome them.” After all, they had recently been delivered from the mightiest army in the world. Miriam had sung in Exodus 15, “The peoples have heard; they tremble; pangs have seized the inhabitants of Philistia. . . . all the inhabitants of Canaan have melted away.” Canaan—the land where they were headed. The land of giants. Giants who, for all their towering bravado, in the secret places of their hearts were trembling with fear.

Forty years later when all those Israelite doubters were dead and the new generation arose, they prepared to go into the very same land, with the very same giants. But this time they said, “Truly the Lord has given all the land into our hands. And also, all the inhabitants of the land melt away because of us.” This time, they were able.

I’m sure it didn’t hurt that Rahab of Jericho had said, “We’ve all heard about what your God did to the Egyptians, and our hearts melt with fear.” What? You mean to say that for all this past forty years, ever since the first spies gasped at sight of the giants, this is what was really going on? Even those people in Jericho, the city with two walls, each at least six feet thick and 45 feet high—even they were trembling with fear? That’s what she said.

When the Israelites heard this report, they knew. “The Lord has already given all the land into our hands.” They knew in their own strength they weren’t able—it was ridiculous to think of their motley band taking such a city. But the Lord . . . now that’s a different story. He would fight the battle, just as He had at the Red Sea. In Him, they were able.

Almost five hundred years later, we hear an eerie echo when Saul said to David, “You are not able to go up against this giant.” David knew that perfectly well. But he also knew God. He told the story about the lion and the bear and said, “God will deliver this giant into my hands.”

I’m not able in my own strength, but that’s beside the point. God is. And I believe Him. He’ll accomplish this work through me.

The New Testament shows it again and again. Even though in our own strength we’re not able, God is. Ephesians tells us that He’s able to do far more than we ask or think. Ephesians is also the place that we read, “Put on the whole armor of God, that you may be able to stand against the schemes of the devil. . . . Take up the whole armor of God, that you may be able to withstand in the evil day.”

It’s an evil day. There are giants in the land. In our own strength, we are not able to face them. There’s no way.

But in Christ, through His strength, by His holy armor, we are well able to overcome them. Deliverance comes through faith in Him alone.

Likewise reckon ye also yourselves to be dead indeed unto sin, but alive unto God through Jesus Christ our Lord.

When a young friend of mine became discouraged about the smallness of her love for God, I asked her, “Before you were saved, how much did it bother you that you didn’t love God?”

She laughed. “It didn’t bother me at all. I never even thought about Him.” She was in the night of the living dead. Like a zombie, never knowing that she was spiritually dead, when there was no response to God.

I’ve always heard of spiritual death described as “separation.” The argument runs:  “Just as physical death is the separation of the soul from the body, so spiritual death is the separation of the spirit from God.” Of course this is strictly true, but maybe when God talks in His Scriptures about spiritual death, maybe He’s primarily talking about unresponsiveness.

When ravens go after a dead body, why do they always attack the eyes first? They’re looking for a response. If there’s no response, they’re sure the creature is dead.

Abraham had to trust God to bring a son from his body, because he was “as good as dead.” What is that but lack of his body’s ability to respond?

You were unresponsive to the love of God in Christ. You were dead. But now, but now, sweet friend, you’ve come alive. You’re responding to the love of God. Take heart that the very fact that you feel concern that your response isn’t what you want it to be, that very fact is evidence that you have been made alive to His love for you.

But God, who is rich in mercy, for his great love wherewith he loved us, even when we were unresponsive to Him in sins, hath caused us to become responsive to Him, together with Christ.

Likewise reckon ye also yourselves to be unresponsive indeed unto sin, but responsive unto God through Jesus Christ our Lord.

Spiritual death? Unresponsive to God, being drawn unthinkingly, unseeingly, always in the direction of sin.

Full spiritual life? Responsive to God in awareness and joy; unresponsive to the attractions of sin. Doesn’t that sound like heaven on earth?

Jesus said, “I am come that they might have life, and that they might have it fully and abundantly.”

 Fully alive. Fully and completely responsive to Jesus Christ through the power of His Holy Spirit.

When my body parts (my “members”) begin to respond to temptation, begin to be pulled in the direction of sin, I can remind myself that I am dead, buried, raised, ascended, and seated with Christ, as Ephesians says. In faith, desperately dependent, I can stand on the truth of God that I am made new and have the power to refuse to respond to the siren calls of sin. I can trust that He will eventually make true in my experience that one day I will no longer feel any sort of response to that attraction. My spirit—and yes, even my body—can respond in joyful faith to the love of Jesus Christ in me, the Hope of Glory.

Yes, when I sin I’ll repent. But I’ll also remind myself that in the death and resurrection of Christ, I’m free from sin, as Romans 6 tells me. I don’t have to respond to sin. I don’t have to experience the night of the living dead.

Do you say, “God, make this true in my life”? But if you are in Christ, at least to some extent this is already true in your life. Believe Him, and stand on faith. Trust Him to make it more and more true in your experience.

You are dead, and your life is hid with Christ in God.