Jesus as a Voodoo Doll: How His Self-Transformation Affects Us

Note: We've recently upgraded some of the technology we use during Sunday services. Unfortunately, along with the upgrades came some hiccups, and there is no recording to post of February 22's sermon. Since the sermon was the first in a new series and laid a lot of groundwork that will be used repeatedly in the coming weeks, we decided it was worth writing this blog post as a substitute for that sermon's podcast, complete with the slides we showed on Sunday. Enjoy!

Who do you want to be when you grow up?

As a thirty-something, I've finally answered the question "What do you want to be when you grow up?" And I've made significant progress towards that what. But I also have a pretty well-defined answer to the question "Who do you want to be when you grow up?" It's just that with the who, there are weeks that I don't seem to be making much progress towards my goal.

This last week was one of those weeks.

When I think about the who, I picture a joyous, patient, self-giving, gentle, empathetic, overflowing-with-gratitude-to-Jesus kind of person who loves his wife zealously, serves this church shamelessly, and, more generally, is the kind of transformed human Jesus became human to create. The problem is that I'm not that kind of person. I want to be, but I'm not. I'm a shadow of that kind of person. I'm a shriveled, shrunken, shadow of who I really want to be.

This past week was one of those weeks where I was repeatedly aware of my own insufficiencies (read: failures). And I know I could just reassure myself that I'm going to get there, that I'm making progress, and that it's ok for me to struggle as long as I'm not giving up, but my overly analytical brain can't seem to rest without something more. I want more than a reassurance that it's ok. I want a how. I want a way out. I want a method that will help me start taking steps to get from where I am to where, or who, I want to be.

I don't want to be who I am anymore. Can I really change?

That's why I'm thankful, this week of all weeks, for what Jesus says in John 17, during a prayer that was one of His last we have recorded and is also one of His longest. He's praying for His followers when He asks God:

Jesus is explaining how He's like a voodoo doll: He does something to Himself (consecrates Himself), and something happens to us (we get sanctified).

Isn't that amazing? It might be a bit more amazing if we knew what it meant for us to be sanctified and for Jesus to be consecrated. But before going into long explanations of consecration and sanctification, let me show you something else that's going on here: the word that the ESV is translating "consecrate" in verse 19 is the exact same word that they're translating as "sanctify" (and "sanctified") in verses 17 and 19. (And this isn't something I've made up. Even the ESV footnote on "I consecrate myself" says "or I sanctify myself".) In other words, the exact same thing Jesus wants to happen to us is what He does to Himself.

Jesus is explaining how He's like a voodoo doll: He does something to Himself and expects it to happen to us.

To make this a bit more clear, I've taken the liberty of re-translating these verses from the Greek. This isn't as good of English as the ESV, but it's very literal and might help us understand:

Ok, so here are the major things you need to know about what Jesus is saying:

• Jesus is asking for the same thing to happen to us as He's doing to Himself (as we've already seen).
• The word for sanctify (or consecrate) is really just a verb form of the word holy. The idea of holiness has to do with purity, with being acceptable for the presence of God, and, very generally, with being the kinds of whole humans Jesus came to make us. In other words, Jesus is expecting all of our transformation to happen because He's transforming humanity in Himself.
• In the Gospel of John (where this prayer comes from), Jesus is explicitly called the Word of God, the one who has always existed with God and is Himself God (see the first chapter of John). Also in the Gospel of John, Jesus says "I am the truth" (John 14:6), hence the capitalization in our re-translation.

How do we become who we want to be? Jesus transforms Himself to transform us.

Over and over, I'm tempted to run from Jesus. Sure He's forgiving. Sure He's merciful. Sure He died for my sins. But I'm tempted to run from Him because I forget that it's in Him that all my transformation takes place. I forget that I don't have to clean myself up before coming back to Him. I forget that He's the one that cleans me up by cleaning Himself up even when He didn't need cleaning up.

The implications of this are life-changing, but before looking at the implications any more, I want to double down and show you that what we're seeing in John 17 above isn't made up. I think it's huge. But Jesus did too, and so did his friends who wrote the books of the New Testament. 

This idea may seem radical, but it's the way the entire New Testament understands Jesus.

Earlier in the Gospel of John, Jesus Himself explains that He's like a vine. His people are like branches, in that they find all their life, all their sustenance, all their growth and transformation and everything by being intimately united to Him. (John 15)

Then this same John who wrote the Gospel of John picks up this same idea in Revelation, saying that all Christians, all those who have faith in Jesus, are priests. Now, this doesn't sound too surprising until we realize what priestly work actually is. Priests take sacrifices into the presence of God (in the Old Testament, this was the temple). Since there's only one sacrifice being taken into the presence of God (Jesus' own self) and there's only one true priest taking this sacrifice (Jesus), the fact that John calls us priests is shocking. We're priests because somehow, mysteriously, we're in Jesus, doing what He does. When He's in God's presence, so are we. Because He's a priest and because we're in Him, we're all priests. (Revelation 1:6)

Jesus' friend Peter says that in Jesus we all become "partakers of the divine nature." (2 Peter 1:4)

And Paul, who wrote about half of the books in the New Testament took this idea so seriously that he tells a church at one point "I have been crucified with Christ. It is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me. And the life I now live in the flesh I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave Himself for me." (Galatians 2:20) Can you imagine taking what Jesus said in John 17 so literally that you'd ever say this? Maybe we should work towards having the confidence to do so. I'm not the one living. I died with Jesus, so now He lives in me.

This same idea continues throughout Paul's books (like in Ephesians where the idea of us being "in Christ" is so important that he mentions it over 30 times in just a short letter), but perhaps the most explicit passage in this regard is in his letter to the church in Rome:

Very simply: Christians are so intimately paired with Christ that they participate in everything He does, from His death all the way through His resurrection.

Just like we saw Jesus saying above, Jesus is like a wonderful voodoo doll. What happens to Him happens to us. We suffer with Him and die with Him, but we also get up with Him. We get transformed into glorious, new, full humanity (no longer shriveled shadows of who we want to be!) all because He's transformed into glorious, new, full humanity on our behalf.

This idea is that we participate in Christ, that we're united with Him, that we have union with Him, that we abide (or reside or live or dwell) in Him, that we're in Him, that He's in us, that we're paired with Him, or clothed with Him. There are many ways of saying it, but the bottom line is this:

As I mentioned, I think that this radically transforms how we live. I think this so distinctly alters the way we think of ourselves as Christians and humans (and the way we define what it means to be Christian or fully human) that it changes our day-to-day routines. Here are a few things I have in mind:

• If our only good comes in Christ, then we need more than a blank slate or a second chance or a do over. We need more than better intentions or better emotions or sober reflection. We need Jesus. We need to be found in Him, to be united with Him,  or we'll never do any better on the second chance (or third or hundredth) than we did on the first. Our need is not to try harder or to concentrate more. Our need is Him.
• And if we need Him more than anything else, our spiritual life becomes essential. So we fight for spiritual life and expect it to yield the results that nothing else can. We take communion week after week together on Sundays, we pray without stopping, we get baptized into Jesus (if we haven't already), and we use all the other practices of the church to find spiritual encouragement and engagement. From singing to preaching to studying to serving, every practice of the church becomes focused on promoting our spirituality, promoting our union with Christ.

We change because Jesus changes Himself for us. This is fantastic news.