The buck stops … over there!

This is a compelling diagnosis of the human condition and our resistance to the whole concept of substitution. We do not want to give up our place as judge. Barth specifically defines the primal human sin as making ourselves judges in order to exculpate ourselves and condemn others. This is pictured in the instantaneous response of Adam and Eve, who, after eating the forbidden fruit of the knowledge of good and evil, begin blaming each other and the serpent in order to hang on to the illusion of innocence — an innocence irreparably lost. We have usurped God’s place as the only true Judge, and therefore the substitution must happen at that particular juncture. An invasive, displacing movement on God’s part is clearly indicated, but paradoxically, it is the invasion that liberates even as it humiliates.—Fleming Rutledge, The Crucifixion, 519

Displaced!

Barth’s originality is also shown in his concept of displacement, or deposition. As the story of the primordial couple in Genesis 2-3 makes clear, our “original sin” was to set ourselves up as judges, that is, capable of determining good and evil on our own. In this presumption of ours we are radically in error. The usurpation of the role that belongs to God alone has led to the bondage of all creation (Rom. 8:20-23). Therefore the invasion of creation by God in Christ means that we have been radically displaced, deposed from our self-made throne or bench where we sit and judge others in order to shore up our restless need to prove our own righteousness. We want to “pronounce ourselves free and righteous and others more or less guilty.” We enjoy this role. But in the cross we see that we have been “displaced” by the one who is truly the Judge and is at the same time “radically and totally for us, in our place” (231-32). “For where does our own judgment always lead? To the place where we pronounce ourselves innocent . . . that is how we live. And that is how we can no longer live in the humiliating power of what took place in Jesus Christ. We are threatened by it because there is a complete turning of the tables. He who has acted there as Judge will also judge me, and He and not I will judge others” (233).—Fleming Rutledge, The Crucifixion, 518

Jesus Loves Me, This I Know

226 Jesus Loves Me, This I Know

1 Jesus loves me! this I know,
   For the Bible tells me so;
   Little ones to Him belong;
   They are weak, but He is strong.

Refrain:
   Yes, Jesus loves me.
   Yes, Jesus loves me.
   Yes, Jesus loves me,
   for the Bible tells me so.

2 Jesus loves me! He who died
   Heaven's gates to open wide!
   He will wash away my sin,
   Let His little child come in. [Refrain]

3 Jesus take this heart of mine,
   Make it pure and wholly thine;
   Thou hast bled and died for me;
   I will henceforth live for Thee. [Refrain]
                         Anna Bartlett Warner
                         Hymns for the Family of God

<idle musing>
I didn't realize there are so many variations on this hymn. Hymnary.org lists the following, plus more:

3 Jesus loves me! loves me still,
   Tho' I'm very weak and ill;
   From His shining throne on high,
   Comes to watch me where I lie. [Refrain]

4 Jesus loves me! He will stay
   Close beside me all the way;
   If I love Him when I die
   He will take me home on high. [Refrain]

2 Jesus loves me! This I know,
   as he loved so long ago,
   Taking children on his knee,
   saying, "Let them come to me." [Refrain]

3 Jesus loves me! Still today,
   walking with me on my way,
   Wanting as a friend to give
   light and love to all who live. [Refrain]

2 Jesus loves the children dear,
   Children far away or near;
   They are safe when in His care,
   Every day and everywhere. [Chorus]

I'm fairly sure those who read this blog are familiar with the story that Karl Barth was once asked what the greatest truth in scripture was. He famously answered, "Jesus loves me, this I know." I first heard the story in an introduction to New Testament survey course.

The historicity of that report has been questioned more than once. There seem to be two versions of it, one taking place at the University of Chicago, and the other one at an eastern seminary. A while back, Roger Olson declared what he knows and why he thinks it really happened at least once. Chase the link for the story. It's kind of a fun one.
</idle musing>