Glory

I’m embarrassed to admit that it’s only a few years ago that Beth and I discovered the beauty in and around the Cape Perpetua Scenic Area on the Oregon Coast. Part of that discovery was a hike I’ve now taken several times to the giant spruce tree that soars above the forest there. One of the incredible aspects of the tree is a gap at the bottom through which a child (or a younger, more spry adult than I am currently) could crawl.

A helpful sign near the tree explains that the gap is the result of the tree’s start in life growing upon a nurse (or nursery) log. The seed fell upon a decaying downed tree and found the nutrients needed to begin life. As the new tree continued to grow, the nurse log completely decayed and disappeared, leaving the gap at the bottom. One can view younger trees and nurse logs in action in the same area and in other parts of the Pacific Northwest.

As I thought about Jesus’ words in our text today from John 12:20-33, about His being glorified pictured in the metaphor of a seed falling to the ground and “dying” so that it could grow and rise again producing much fruit, those nurse logs came to mind. When Jesus talks about His glorification in John, He is talking about His death on the Cross. In much the same way a fallen giant of the forest is “glorified” by the new trees which arise from it, Jesus is glorified in the giving of His life so that others following Him and His example might keep their lives “for eternal life,” as He says in verse 25.

The whole text is at first glance a strange patchwork of non-sequitur. Philip and Andrew bring news to Jesus of some foreigners, Greeks, who wish to see Him. Jesus in no way acknowledges His visitors, nor do we hear if He ever met them. Instead, Jesus responds with the announcement that His hour to be glorified is at hand, followed by the image of the seed falling into the ground and dying. And of course the natural science isn’t even quite correct, since seeds that end up sprouting and bearing fruit, as Jesus pictures, don’t really die. Then comes a spiritual paradox Jesus repeats in different ways and which lies at the heart of the Gospel: love and hold onto your life and you will lose it; disregard and let go of your life and you will save it.

The non-sequiturs continue in verse 27 as Jesus then announces that His “soul is troubled,” and that He’d like to be saved from this “hour,” presumably the hour of His death. The context of the passage just after Palm Sunday helps us remember that the Cross is imminent. Nonetheless, Jesus calls not for His own glorification but for the Father to glorify the Father’s own name. A thunderous voice from heaven announces that is just what the Father intends to do. Jesus then announces to the disciples that the voice was for their benefit and that He has come so that “now the ruler of this world will be driven out.” He finally concludes with the same description of His death we heard last week in John 3, “And I, when I am lifted up from the earth,” followed by “will draw all people to myself.” Which means that after a seemingly disconnected train of thought, the last phrase brilliantly connects us back to those Greeks at the beginning. Jesus needs to “fall into the ground,” “lose His life,” “be lifted up,” all to address that need they had to see Him, the need all people on earth have to see Jesus and find life in Him.

And those fallen nurse logs in the damp forests of our region are beautiful images of how the lifted-up-then-fallen Savior of the world becomes the source of life for all who will affix their lives to Him. They in turn, like that giant tree there at Cape Perpetua, will one day fall and give their own lives to nurture others. Such is the way of the Tree which we call the Cross. Such is the way of glory.