Crucify Him!
I stand in the crowd, surrounded by the religious and the profane, alike. Pointing my finger and yelling at the top of my lungs; "Crucify Him!" With every wilful sin, I add my agreement to the crowd. Another chorus of "Crucify Him", made by voices that were designed to praise God, not curse Him.
As He drags His beaten body, oozing blood from the many whip-made lacerations, up the road toward the "Place of the Skull", we mock and spit on Him. Every action I take, out of my own strength adds to the spittle festooning His shredded skin. Every bit of pride I take in "my good words" is so much more mockery added to the jeers and catcalls.
And as He hangs on the cross, we stand at His feet agreeing on the best ways to divide up the cast-off soiled clothing. He is suffering pain so intense that a new word was coined to bear it's meaning, excruciating (out of, or as if, being crucified). He sees us, there, casting the dice; even actively adding to the burden He was bearing and He pities us. "Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do."
Finally in that confluence, where ultimate Love met ultimate Justice, the Lord called out "Eloi, Eloi, lama sabachthani?" (My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?) and we think He is calling for Elias the prophet. He hangs, cursed on a tree, paying for every wrong thing we will ever do, say or even think; and yet we miss it. We think that He must be pointing back to the Law and the Prophets. "Yeah, I know Jesus died, but I'm sure that God will accept me if I just go to church more."
His body is taken down and laid in a tomb, and we try to go back to "life as normal", and forget about this whole weird affair; but He won't stay dead! Some actually see Him up and walking around, and they are indeed blessed. But to us He says "blessed are they that have not seen, and yet have believed."
We are party, with every wrong action, word, and thought, to the most heinous crime ever committed; that of executing a perfectly innocent man in place of ourselves. And yet that man, who is God Himself, freely offered Himself in agreement with the death sentence True Justice demands so we do not have to pay ourselves. Because the debt has been paid, we are offered a pardon. But a pardon cannot be accepted, unless we first admit our guilt. I am guilty, and pardoned. And the only thanks that I can give is to turn my life over to Him. He bought it, it was broken and soiled, yet He bought my life with His own. I'm definitely a fixer-upper. Even though, I stood in the crowd, spit on Him, mocked Him, beat Him and crucified Him, He overcame it all and still wants me. Even though I still spit, and mock, and beat Him, I am forgiven. And you, if you will admit your guilt, and your total inability to pay the price on your own, may be forgiven as well.
Tag(s): Gospel
As He drags His beaten body, oozing blood from the many whip-made lacerations, up the road toward the "Place of the Skull", we mock and spit on Him. Every action I take, out of my own strength adds to the spittle festooning His shredded skin. Every bit of pride I take in "my good words" is so much more mockery added to the jeers and catcalls.
And as He hangs on the cross, we stand at His feet agreeing on the best ways to divide up the cast-off soiled clothing. He is suffering pain so intense that a new word was coined to bear it's meaning, excruciating (out of, or as if, being crucified). He sees us, there, casting the dice; even actively adding to the burden He was bearing and He pities us. "Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do."
Finally in that confluence, where ultimate Love met ultimate Justice, the Lord called out "Eloi, Eloi, lama sabachthani?" (My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?) and we think He is calling for Elias the prophet. He hangs, cursed on a tree, paying for every wrong thing we will ever do, say or even think; and yet we miss it. We think that He must be pointing back to the Law and the Prophets. "Yeah, I know Jesus died, but I'm sure that God will accept me if I just go to church more."
His body is taken down and laid in a tomb, and we try to go back to "life as normal", and forget about this whole weird affair; but He won't stay dead! Some actually see Him up and walking around, and they are indeed blessed. But to us He says "blessed are they that have not seen, and yet have believed."
We are party, with every wrong action, word, and thought, to the most heinous crime ever committed; that of executing a perfectly innocent man in place of ourselves. And yet that man, who is God Himself, freely offered Himself in agreement with the death sentence True Justice demands so we do not have to pay ourselves. Because the debt has been paid, we are offered a pardon. But a pardon cannot be accepted, unless we first admit our guilt. I am guilty, and pardoned. And the only thanks that I can give is to turn my life over to Him. He bought it, it was broken and soiled, yet He bought my life with His own. I'm definitely a fixer-upper. Even though, I stood in the crowd, spit on Him, mocked Him, beat Him and crucified Him, He overcame it all and still wants me. Even though I still spit, and mock, and beat Him, I am forgiven. And you, if you will admit your guilt, and your total inability to pay the price on your own, may be forgiven as well.
Tag(s): Gospel
posted by Bryan at 7:55 AM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home