March

By Jim Green

It is early morning as I write, and I am watching the sunrise out my hotel window. It is big, and bright, and burning. I have turned off the lamp; I no longer need it. The sunrise is flooding my room with light, and I can feel its warmth on my face. It is heralding the arrival of Spring and filling me with hope.

Welcome to March.

March is named for the Roman god of war, which is why the blood-red planet is named for him: Mars. Mars was the son of the great god, Jupiter. (Zeus)

The great temple of Mars was in Rome, but it was not downtown. It was on the Campus Martius, the field of Mars, which was a large exercise and training area for the army. Soldiers offered sacrifices to Mars before and after every battle.

March was actually the first month of the ancient Roman calendar, because the ancients would pause their campaigns and resume war in the more favorable fighting weather of spring. The month of war was named for the god of war.

Mars was a favorite of the Romans, who valued and excelled at martial prowess (yes, that word comes from Mars). They conquered the entire Mediterranean world in the name of Mars, and for the defense of Rome. More than any other god, Mars had made Rome an empire.

Then one spring, in a backwater corner of their empire that the Romans called Syria and Judea, another god was gathering a following. He appeared to be just a Galilean preacher. Yet he walked through this world as if it had nothing to teach him. The things he was saying and doing would soon give all the other gods nightmares.

He was proclaiming a new Kingdom.

It was to be a kingdom of love, meekness, and forgiveness that would conquer the hearts of men. A kingdom of Heaven. This kingdom was destined to spread over the earth, and banish fear, and hatred, and even death itself. It is an everlasting kingdom, a kingdom not made with hands, a kingdom in which the Galilean was born to be King.

But it was a kingdom of peace, a kingdom that did not include Mars.

The local religious authorities hated the Galilean. He was a threat to their prestige and their certainty. They solicited their Roman overlords to help them destroy this man who would be King. After all, he was an obvious threat to Caesar too. So, the soldiers of Rome led him away for execution. Politics and religion had conspired together to crucify the true Son of God.

Mars had killed Jesus.

That should have been the end of it. But gods are funny beings. They can still surprise us sometimes. There is none more surprising than this Galilean.

Jesus of Nazareth rose from the dead on a Sunday, in the Spring, and there was nothing Mars could do about it.

Mars and his friends had played directly into the hands of the Creator, who, in the form of His Son, had smuggled himself into the realm of the dead. His plan all along was to take the weapons of death away from the old gods and leave them unarmed and helpless.

And there was nothing Mars could do about it.

In Jesus, God was restarting humanity. Humans could now be free of the shadow of death. They could live forever, like their King. They no longer had to fear Mars and his friends. Jesus had become “the sun of righteousness rising with healing in its wings.” (Malachi 4)

And there was nothing Mars could do about it.

The old gods were doomed. It would take a long time, but they would wither and “die, like men.” (Psalm 82) People began to flee them, to escape. They were heading for the exit. They were running toward the sunrise.

And there was nothing Mars could do about it.

The powers were losing their grip on humanity. People were flocking to this crucified King. It had only been 120 people at first. Then it was thousands. Then millions. Then hundreds of millions. Where would it end? Hell itself was being plundered.

And there was nothing Mars could do about it.

Fewer than twenty years after the resurrection, a funny little man named Paul stood in the middle of Athens. He was surrounded by philosophers and politicians and gods as he explained to them the reality of the resurrection, and the new kingdom. Some scoffed. Others believed and followed the King.

But it is not their reaction that was remarkable, it was the location. They were standing on the Areopagus, the Hill of Mars, or Mars Hill, a temple area dedicated to Mars that overlooked the influential pagan city. Paul was standing in the living room of the god of war, boldly proclaiming the resurrection of the Prince of Peace.

And there was nothing Mars could do about it.

The bright sunrise out my window is gone now. It did not last long before it slipped behind a band of steel-gray clouds that are now spreading across the sky like a dome. I will not see the sun again for several days, according to my weather app. But the sun is there, whether I see it or not, whether I feel its warmth on my face or not.

We do not have to obey or honor the gods of this world anymore. They were blinded by the resurrection long ago when “He disarmed the rulers and authorities and put them to open shame, by triumphing over them in him.” (Colossians 2) Satan can only lie now. And Death is a toothless hound.

Go to church this month and listen again to the story. The story of the victory of spring, and of life.

Hear it with new ears.

See it with new eyes.

The sun has risen on a new creation.

The clouds of life can obscure it, but it is always there, just beyond our vision. By faith, we can walk in that new creation every day and feel its warmth on our faces.

I can assure you, there is nothing that Mars, or any of his friends, can do about it.