The "Normandy Invasion" of Human History
The Normandy Invasion was not just another amphibious assault.
This was the largest seaborne assault in history. It involved eight different navies, almost 7000 vessels, and nearly 160,000 troops.
The sacrifice of life that day was unspeakable. Allied casualties included more than 4000 dead in the first 24 hours, many thousands more injured, and many tens of thousands still to die and suffer life-changing injuries in the months to come as the Allied forces struggled to consolidate their gains in northern France.
Although no one could be sure of it at the time, that massive military operation turned out to be the decisive moment in the war. Once the Allies had established a foothold in France, the war in the European theater had turned the corner. There would be many more battles and many more lives lost, but the eventual outcome of the war – the Allied victory over Nazi Germany – began to come into focus in the months that followed that awful June morning.
Had Germany been able to repel the Allied invasion, the entire war could have taken a different course, and the history of the twentieth century might well have been the story of fascist domination of the entire planet. So it would not be an exaggeration to say that the Normandy Invasion changed the entire trajectory of modern human history.
In other words, though they couldn’t see it then, now we can see that there was a “now but not yet” sense about that bloody June day on the beaches of Normandy.
Now…
In one sense, World War II ended that day as the Allies could now begin their long drive toward Germany. Although the Nazis put up a ferocious fight after Normandy, they were mostly in a posture of a fighting retreat from that bloody morning in 1944 until “VE Day,” when the Allies accepted Germany’s unconditional surrender of its armed forces on May 8, 1945.
Before the Invasion, the threat of fascist domination of the planet was a real possibility, and it would take nothing less than a ghastly sacrifice of blood to overthrow the power of the Nazi war machine. The Normandy Invasion was that sacrifice.
…but not yet
In another sense, the end of the war was “not yet” as there were many more battles to fight before the end of the conflict. The German army put up its final attempt at resistance in the famous “Battle of the Bulge,” where German forces mounted a surprise attack aimed at encircling and dividing Allied forces. Almost 200,000 more German and Allied personnel were killed in that five-week battle. But with the outcome of that battle in favor of the Allies, it was finally clear that the Nazi military project would ultimately fail.
In the death and resurrection of Jesus, we have the Normandy Invasion of human history.
The Incarnation of the Son of God – His stepping onto the stage of human history – was nothing less than an invasion. In the virginal conception of Jesus, we have not just the inception of another human life; in the fetus in Mary’s womb we have God Almighty Himself invading our realm.
And when Jesus began His public ministry, He used the language of invasion when He announced that the Kingdom of God had arrived. His agenda was wholly unlike anything anyone expected: He was welcomed by none of the existing institutions of His day. That’s because His Kingdom was not just another political agenda or cultural renewal project. He came to the first century world not just to take sides but to take over.
But as dramatic as the arrival of the Son was, and as dramatic as His miracles were, as electrifying as His teaching was, it was neither his conception and birth nor his awesome power nor His teachings that changed the trajectory of human history. The decisive moment came in His gruesome and humiliating death.
Why did Jesus have to die, and why did He have to die in such agony and disgrace?
Because even the Almighty couldn’t just wave His hand and make the power of sin and death go away. In His death and resurrection, Jesus battled not just the powers of a corrupt Jewish hierarchy and a brutal Roman regime; Jesus was at war with the malignant and ferocious powers of sin and death, and nothing less than a ghastly sacrifice could overcome those powers.
“The power of sin and death” isn’t just a theological concept, even for us pampered Americans. It is a power and force we know all too well; we encounter that power when we see a marriage dissolve, when we visit the cancer ward, when we see newsreels of natural disaster or the ravages of war.
But Jesus faced down all the power of sin and death in His agony: in the treachery of one of His own, in the abandonment of His closest friends, in the corruption of His people’s leaders, in the casual brutality of the Roman state, and finally, in death itself. At the cross Jesus drank the cup of His Father’s wrath down to the dregs.
And in His awful sacrifice, He changed the course of human history.
In the cross and the empty tomb, Jesus crippled the power of sin and death and guaranteed the outcome of our own struggle against the power of sin and death. Since that first Easter morning, God’s people can look forward with confidence to the New Creation that is now surely coming.
But we are living between the “now” of His death and resurrection and the “not yet” of His ultimate triumph.
We still suffer, and our loved ones suffer.
And our suffering comes at us from all directions: from our living in a broken world (disease and injury, natural disaster, death), from the brokenness of those around us (fractured relationships, crime), and from our own indwelling sin (the harm we ourselves inflict because of our own wicked hearts). Even though we are followers of our Triumphant King, we know the power of sin and death all too well.
So, yes, even after Jesus’ history-changing suffering and victory, we continue to suffer. But we suffer, as Paul said, “not as others, who have no hope” (1 Thess 4). Because we know how the Story ends, our suffering is diffused with the bright shadow of holy confidence.
We know that the One who endured our suffering and rose in triumph will someday come and make all things right.
And that is the hope that sustains us between the “now” and the “not yet.”
Persevere, Paul Pyle
Pastor of Discipleship