And you, who were dead in your trespasses and the uncircumcision of your flesh, God made alive together with him, having forgiven us all our trespasses, 14 by canceling the record of debt that stood against us with its legal demands. This he set aside, nailing it to the cross. 15 He disarmed the rulers and authorities and put them to open shame, by triumphing over them in him. - Col 2:13-15
This passage represents, I believe, one of the classic distillations of the strange and wonderful world of Christianity. It has all the hallmarks of what would leave the novice or outsider left with a mixture of confusion and intrigue.
- Unexplained jargon and rituals “trespasses” and “circumcision”
- Mystical promises “And you, who were dead…God made alive”
- Intricate systems of divine law, judgment, and forgiveness “forgiven our trespasses by cancelling the record of debt”
- An emphasis on a substitute, a sacrifice “nailing it to the cross”
- A war between spiritual entities invisible to the human eye “he disarmed the rulers and authorities”
Christians, like everyone else, like to fit in, to belong, to not feel like odd ducks. And frankly, some of the doctrines of the church feel rather…quacky. Take and eat, my body broken for you; take and drink, my blood shed for you. Arcane dogmas of bygone eras, cryptic language of metaphysics and esoteric truths—angels and sacrament and resurrection, as if church were some fantasy role-playing game. Meanwhile, here we live in the modern world of soccer practices and kitchen remodels and conference calls and pizza rolls.
So, what do we do? We struggle to demonstrate to our non-Christian neighbors, to our children, and, perhaps most of all, to ourselves, that the ancient faith is not so strange and in fact has much to say to our pizza rolls. The questions and concerns we have can be answered in the old gospel story. And that is true. The Bible has much to say to all of life, even pizza rolls. But, make no mistake, it is still very strange. But it must be.
It is like we have lived our entire life in “the modern world” inside of an RV, and have had all of the questions and problems that RV life brings—we have a microwave, a couch that folds out into an uncomfortable bed, and a bathroom big enough for a small child. But then we are invited to come live in an ornate palace. If we accept that offer, of course, we will have many adjustments to make. We are leaving the small hallway of modernity and stepping into something old, something immense, something made of sacred stone that has stood for two millennia, and therefore something that will at times leave us confused. If we yank on the edge of one of the couches in a sitting room, we may think, “Hmph, this doesn’t turn into a bed!” or peruse the capacious, fully staffed kitchen and notice, “Not a single microwave, tsk, tsk.” We will be caught out at first, misunderstanding the majesty and stateliness of the palace as a drawback, thinking of how quickly we made our pizza rolls in the mobile home parked outside. But in time, we will learn that the strangeness of this cathedral-like home is part of its splendor, of its expansive mystery, of its superiority to the house with a windshield and cardboard walls.
So, Christianity has much to say about the questions and longings everyday life brings to us. But it also is here to introduce new questions and new answers and new definitions. Like, calling the day your Savior dies Good Friday. How odd?
Here, in this passage, the apostle Paul presents to us a dimension of the death of Christ that we are less familiar with: the disarming of Satan and his demons and publicly embarrassing them through His triumph. Let’s briefly move through what the passage is claiming, and then close with an application:
You were dead
When we tell someone “you’re dead to me,” what do we mean? We mean “The relational door between you and I is sealed shut, there is nothing here, no anger, no love, no joy—dead.” That was the posture of our heart, but thanks be to God, as we will see, was not the posture of His.
in your trespasses
To trespass means to cross a line, to go where you ought not go. That’s a helpful word-picture for sin. God’s Law drew lines for us, told us, You must live thus and so, and you must not do thus and so, and we all transgressed, trespassed, stepped over the line. And thus we are dead to God.
God made alive together with him
You were dead in your sin, but no longer. Just as God raised the dead body of Jesus Christ, with Him, He also raised all of God’s people to life. The “you’re dead to me” posture of our hearts, the sealed door of relationship, cracked open. God took our cold, stand-offish, resistant hearts, and made them pulse with life.
How?
having forgiven us all our trespasses, by canceling the record of debt that stood against us with its legal demands.
Now Paul changes the metaphor from “trespassing” to “debt.” Or, perhaps, it is as if each transgression has a dollar value attached to it, a charge the dings into our account with every infraction. The sum total of the bill? The wages of sin is death. This bill of outstanding charges…is cancelled. But, if a debt is cancelled that means that someone **must absorb the loss.
This he set aside, nailing it to the cross.
This, that is, the record of debt, was “set aside” by being nailed to the cross. But, a piece of paper wasn’t nailed to the cross. A person was. Flesh, and bone, blood and sinew. Strangely, bizarrely, this is teaching us that when Jesus Christ died on the cross, He was paying the debt. He not only dies physically, but experiences the spiritual death of the judgment of God—Hell itself. Our sins are forgiven not because God stopped caring about justice, but because He sent His Son to satisfy justice, without judging us.
He disarmed the rulers and authorities and put them to open shame, by triumphing over them in him. (the cross, not “him”)
What a remarkable and strange passage.
Everything said thus far has been relatively standard fare in the realm of religious thinking we may (or may not) be familiar with. And here, seemingly out of nowhere, Paul brings the Satan and demons into the field of view. Jesus’ death on the cross is not only about our sins being forgiven, our spiritual new birth, our reconciliation with God—it is also being set free from the dominion of Hell, delivered from the domain of darkness and into the kingdom of light (Col 1:13).
The early church used to have all who were about to be baptized, after confessing their faith, publicly renounce Satan and the powers of hell; professing that the demonic no longer had any claim on their life. In what way can we renounce Satan? This passage gives us two ways.
He disarmed the powers of Hell. Which means, prior to the cross, prior to your faith in Christ, Hell had a weapon against you. What was that? Unforgiven sin. The book of Revelation describes Satan as an “accuser of the brothers…who accuses them day and night before our God” (Rev 12:10). Satan’s very name means “accuser.” Satan is like a perverse attorney who relishes in pointing out guilt. If we continue in unrepentant, unforgiven sin…then we remain under the domain of Satan—the arch-sinner who longs to drag as many down with him into his eternal misery. He will happily stand before God and accuse, accuse, accuse.
Now, Satan can lie. He lies all the time. Sometimes, his accusations are false. But, a lot of times he is right. So, Hebrews tells us that Satan has “the power of death” and we are “subject to lifelong slavery” to him because we fear that he is right—we deserve death, we deserve judgment for our sin, and that fear leaves us in bondage.
But Jesus came and through death he destroyed the one who has the power of death, the devil, and delivers all those who through fear of death were subject to lifelong slavery. If Satan’s greatest weapon is unforgiven sin, but Jesus’ death has provided forgiveness of all of our sins, then that means that Satan and his demons have been disarmed, defanged, defeated.
So, what does a Christian do when they are confronted with the grip of guilt, with the sense that they are not worthy of God’s love, that they deserve hell—what do they do? They take shelter under the finished and completed work of Christ.
What though the vile accuser roar Of sins that I have done; I know them well, and thousands more; My God, He knoweth none
He put them to open shame, by triumphing over them in the cross.
The crucifixion of the Son of God was the master stroke in Satan’s plan. It was the White Witch’s moment to finally kill Aslan, thinking all of Narnia would be hers now. If the King says, “The only way to live a happy, blessed life is to obey my law,” but the rebel hates the law and is confident that, given enough time, he can create his own kingdom, his own law, can prove the king wrong and assert his own path to happiness…and then, there is a chance to kill the king? There couldn’t be a better opportunity to seize upon! So, Satan bides his time, subtly influences the crowds, the religious leaders, the authorities, and then finally, Judas. He’s arrested, sentenced, executed. Checkmate.
And, at the moment of what he thought was the final display of his own brilliance and will, the powers of Hell were brought to their knees like children before the terror of the living God. Jesus did not stay dead. His death was the means by which Jesus was able to enter the belly of the beast, to plunder Hell itself, and pierce its black heart. Jesus triumphed over the powers of Hell by taking their most powerful blow, and bending it around to spell out their own final defeat.
Which means, Jesus has exposed the utter insanity of rebellion against God. You cannot sin your way into blessing. You cannot cut your own path. Satan tried, and it ended in his entire kingdom toppling in upon his head. Don’t follow his example. Renounce Satan.
Further, it also means that no infernal weapon formed against you which will prevail. God has put the powers of hell to open shame by taking their own devices and using it against them. Every fiery arrow flung your way will fail. Every trial, every storm, every catastrophe, every dark night of the soul…will not win. Fridays are followed by Sundays.
