And they bring him unto the place Golgotha, which is, being interpreted, The place of a skull. And they gave him to drink wine mingled with myrrh: but he received it not. And when they had crucified him, they parted his garments, casting lots upon them, what every man should take. And it was the third hour, and they crucified him. (Mark 15:22-25)
Friday. Death cannot be dressed up. It is ugly. It is brutal. It is painful. Death by crucifixion is an unspeakable horror. Other ancient peoples executed their criminals and then displayed their dead bodies on poles as an example of what happens to those who oppose the rule of the land. Only the Romans were cruel enough to place them on poles while they were still alive. For Jesus, the day of death had come. His years of loving God and loving people have reached the point of no return. Now Jesus must die, for love of God, for love of man. The ultimate love. The ultimate sacrifice. The ultimate obedience. How can one man die for the sins of others? There is no other way. Having loved us, he loved us to the end. Having loved his Father, he obeyed him to the end. It was the day of darkness, the day of separation, and it was inevitable. It had to happen or there would be no hope for any of us. It had to happen in order for God to be both just and justifier. If God is God and sin is sin and forgiveness is forgiveness, the dark death of the Son of God on that dark Friday simply had to happen. We do not seek to fully understand. Friday is not the time to analyze, but to weep. We stand in horror, and with gratefulness, and with broken hearts of love. This is what He did to prove His love. Worthy is the Lamb… Two planks of wood and some nails are arranged in a pile. That’s all the equipment He’ll need. Painful, bloody steps to the place of execution, the place of the offering, the place of reconciliation. The hands now pierced with nails: Cold, sharp, painful nails mercilessly hammered through the hands of the One who loved because He is Love. Friends and enemies stand to witness the self-sacrifice of the Lamb, for love of God, for love of man. Friends and enemies brought together to this place, at this time to watch, to weep, to wonder. God and man brought together in this place, at this time to witness and experience the ultimate act of reconciliation and the price is death—slow, painful, excruciating death. The dark death of Friday’s cross was not for the man who died. This death was for the world—no, for me! And they that passed by railed on him, wagging their heads, and saying, Ah, thou that destroyest the temple, and buildest it in three days, Save thyself, and come down from the cross. Likewise also the chief priests mocking said among themselves with the scribes, He saved others; himself he cannot save. Let Christ the King of Israel descend now from the cross, that we may see and believe. And they that were crucified with him reviled him. (Mark 15:29-32) And so the mocking continues, even when Jesus is on the cross, even by the criminals who were crucified alongside of him. They ask why he does not save himself, but they do not understand that if he saves himself he cannot save them. The death of Jesus was for us. He could have stopped the process at any time. He could have pressed the “abort mission” button, but had he done that you and I would still be in our sins, with no hope of salvation, no hope of forgiveness, no hope of an intimate relationship with God, no hope of a life-transforming spiritual awakening, no hope of meaning for our earthly existence, no hope beyond the grave, no hope of eternal life in intimate relationship with God forever. We would be condemned to live forever in existential isolation and darkness under Dante’s sign “Abandon all hope here”. By saving himself he would have left us alone to wander in our own self-imposed darkness. He suffered our darkness so that we might live in the light. He died our death so that we might experience his life. He suffered the penalty for our sins so that we might experience God’s unconditional love and forgiveness. May God open our eyes and our hearts and enable us to understand what the death of Jesus means for the world, and what it means personally for us. May we be people who are defined by the cross of Jesus. May we be a Church that is defined by the cross of Jesus. The Cross, together with the Resurrection and the Return, is what defines us. It is what makes us who we are. And at the ninth hour Jesus cried with a loud voice, saying, Eloi, Eloi, lama sabachthani? which is, being interpreted, My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me? (Mark 15:34) These words fill me with horror. What could be more horrifying than spending one’s entire life in complete submission to God, experiencing the deepest trust possible because of deepest intimacy possible, only to feel forsaken at the end. Before we rush to our theological explanations, we need to take a moment to feel the horror of it all. Don’t rush off to explain. Don’t rush off to celebrate the resurrection. Closing the theological loop now would be premature. Feel the horror. Feel the loneliness. Feel the hurt. Feel the isolation. The Son feels abandoned by the Father. God feels abandoned by God. Whatever the theological explanation, the feeling was real. The horror was real. The darkness of that moment in the soul of Jesus is unimaginable. It was the worse nightmare in the universe, but it was real. The emotional pain was real. The agony was real. It wasn’t only physical pain that Jesus felt on the cross. It was the emotional and spiritual pain of feeling abandoned not only by his friends, but by God Himself. The wretched agony that Jesus was experiencing at that moment can never be described or replicated. Jesus experienced all the physical, emotional and spiritual pain and brokenness and isolation that the universe could dish up against him. It happened once for all. The universe can contain that degree of pain only once. Jesus was forsaken that I might be accepted. Jesus was condemned that I might be forgiven. There is something very deep going on here. Something at the heart of the universe exploded. Something deep in the heart of God exploded, and out of that explosion flowed the love and mercy that forgives a billion people of their sins and reconciles the inhabitants of a rebellious planet to their good Creator. He was forsaken that I might be reconciled. His death is my life. We need to feel the horror before we can dare to celebrate.
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