Something that struck me when listening to a version of the
crucifixion was Jesus’ perspective through it all. I listened to a sermon by Pastor
Larry Osbourne of North Coast Church yesterday wherein he talked about Jesus
being fully human—he didn’t know everything that was going to happen, and even
the power in him to heal came from the Holy Spirit (and it wasn’t always there).
He wasn’t a “Clark Kent” Jesus—just faking that he was man. No. He was FULLY
MAN. He emptied himself, gave up all his rights and superpowers and subjected
himself to God’s will fully, a choice we see climaxed in the Garden of
Gethsemane.
That’s a horse of a different kind. But the thing that
struck me especially was that in the Garden, Jesus prays. We all know that. But
he doesn’t just pray for himself—he prays for his disciples and all the
Christians who are to follow (John 17). When he is being arrested and Peter
gets hasty and hacks someone’s ear off, Jesus stops in his tracks (ignoring the
fact that, y’know, they’re taking him away to be tried and killed and he’s just
been betrayed by one of his friends) and heals the guy. As he leaves the house of
Caiaphas where he had just been condemned and ridiculed before the council, the
only thing on his mind is to look over at Peter, who has just denied knowing
him.
The list goes on. Hanging on the cross he tells John to look
after his mother (when he probably had a whole lot more on his mind—like, you
know, the fact that he was slowly asphyxiating and bleeding out and hanging
from a torture device made of wood). But my favorite—the thing that really made
me kind of breathless—was the thief on the cross.
The crowd is ridiculing him. One of the thieves joins in,
mocking him and telling him to save himself, but the other guy jumps in and
professes a very surprising belief in Jesus. And does Jesus just nod, or even
ignore the guy (whose salvation profession may or may not be to the heart
sincere?).
No. In the middle of the agonizing pain, as his wrists and
feet throb, as the thorns press into the back of his head, as his back screams
from rubbing the raw, flogged skin against the rough wood—in the middle of
having the sin of the entire world, both past, present, and future laid upon
his shoulders, as Satan rubs his hands in delight, as the Father turns his face
away and the sky begins to blacken, Jesus looks at that thief and loves him.
Tells him that he is forgiven and will be with Him in paradise.
That blows me away. That in the middle of the biggest event
in human history, the most important thing to Jesus was not looking dignified
as he hung there. It wasn’t praying one more time for God’s will to change. It
wasn’t even focusing on being the perfect sacrifice. His love was so great, and
so personal, that in the midst of this incredibly important act that would be
the crux of history, he spoke into the life of one person. One insignificant
person—we don’t even know his name. And comforted him. And gave him the promise
of life.
Obviously I’ve never been on a cross and will likely never
find myself there, but when I am the busiest or most anxious or things are the
most chaotic around me, do I stop and care about others first? Do I “consider
others better than myself” and put their interests and needs before mine? It’s
easy to do it when your belly is full, or on the road with them, or in the
everyday grind of life.
But on the cross. In the trial. Where is my focus?
O Lord, that you would make my heart love others as you loved them! That you would make me
into a person who cares deeply and passionately with a selfless love that surpasses understanding.
He is jealous for me
Love's like a hurricane, and I am a tree
Bending beneath the weight of his love and mercy
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