He knew we would mess up. He knew we would fail him again and again. He knew we would be ill, in pain, bereaved and confused. He knew we were destined for Hell unless he obeyed his Father.
He was the only one who could do it. He was perfect, sinless, spotless, pure. God’s beloved son. His only son.
He knew that he could call down legions of angels to whisk him away from those awful people. But he stood still and endured the mockery, the false accusations, the ultimate disrespect towards his father.
They undressed him and humiliated his body – saliva ran down his cheek as one by one, they hurled spit at his face.
Then came the beard. They plucked it out of his face, leaving him looking like a monster. 9 inch thorns were pressed into his skull and as warm blood trickled down his neck, they thumped him in the eye, loosening it out of the socket.
He could have transported his body back up to Heaven and told the father, “I’m not enduring any more torture. It hurts too much. I am part of you and I was with you when you created them. I helped you form my torturers’ bodies when they were still in the womb. And now they want to harm me beyond description – they want me dead.”
But he did not run away.
He allowed those weak men to torture the strongest man that’s ever walked the earth…not so our lives could be perfect. Not so we could be comfortable without a single care… but so that:
⇒In our loneliness, he would be present to comfort.
⇒In our sin, he would forgive.
⇒In our sickness, he would heal.
⇒In our distress, he would encourage.
⇒In our worries, he would give us peace.
⇒ In our fear, he would give us courage.
⇒In our debts, he would give us wisdom to acquire finances.
⇒In our attacks, he would give us victory.
⇒In our weakness he would give us strength.
⇒On our deathbed, he would give us hope.
⇒⇒⇒As for our wounds, he would remove them and leave…no scars.⇐⇐⇐
Let Me Not Forget
Pieces of metal and bone,
Flew into the air,
Then came down with a great speed.
Then an agonizing moan
Was all they could hear,
As His back began to bleed.
The jagged edges got stuck,
Right inside the skin,
As dust on the ground turned red.
Then they gave a hard tug,
On the bits inside Him,
That were weighted down with lead.
Large clumps of flesh ripped away,
And fell to the ground.
The torture made him shiver.
As the blue sky turned grey,
There was an awful sound
Of blood pouring like a river.
His eyelids began to swell,
And then they turned blue,
As fists went into his jaw.
His friends could no longer tell,
If this was the man that they knew,
As they mashed up His face even more
With hatred, envy and scorn,
The voices all screamed,
“Yes, crucify him right now!”
Watching his dear mother mourn,
He had failed it now seemed.
He was the one to save them, but how?
Thorns on his head went in deep,
Like the rusty nails,
And one of them burst a vein.
He watched His dear mother weep,
As more thorns pierced his skin,
And blood poured down his face like rain
With His whole beard plucked out,
And a swollen face,
This seemed more than He could bear.
So, how could I doubt
That He’s taken my place,
Or think that He doesn’t care?
I need to remember now,
And see in my mind,
The Son of God gasping for breath.
And then remember how,
He did not lay down and die,
But suffered a horrific death.
Here’s the link: