5 Days until Easter

5 Days until Easter

This was no grandiose royal parade.  There were no bannered trumpets.  There were no high-stepping thoroughbred processions.  There were no jewels or velvet.  There was no gold crown and scepter.  He was a King.  His mission was greater than any other king who ever was or ever will be.  He would go to battle for all mankind.  His name is Jesus.

 

There He stood, the kindest, most compassionate Man.  Meek and humble, perfect and without even a thought deserving of blame, the Son of God in human form.  There was no pomp.  No vanity.  Most kings ride into battle on a horse.  He staggered in, barefoot, carrying a rugged tree.  Most kings are greeted with trumpets and cheers.  He was mocked and spit upon.  Most kings march in wearing metals of high prestige on their velvet cloaks.  He wore ribbons of flesh dangling freely from His body and dripping with blood. Most kings wear crowns of the purest gold, adorned in precious gems.  He wore a degrading crown of woven thorns affixed to His skull.  Most kings head to their thrones to take a seat from their pedestal on high, overlooking their people.  He was heading to be nailed to a cross, to hang as a ransom for His beloved.  He’s not just any king.  He’s the King of Kings and there could never be a royal who’s majesty could ever rival the glory His blood.

He survived the flogging.  And it seems like the Roman soldiers prefered torture as their sport of choice.  On His open wounds, they placed a robe around Him.  I can't comprehend  the depth of pain and sorrow that must have been buried in His cries.  They took a crown of long, sharp thorns and put it on His head and put a reed in His hand. Then they mocked Him, calling Him "King of the Jews" and when they were through having their fun with Him, they spit on Him.  With the reed they beat His head that was covered in their spit and adorned with a crown of thorns.  It’s a display of the true ugliness of man's character. Our sinful nature.  There was no need for this session of dehumanization. But, He took it.

They stripped His robe and led our Redeemer away to be crucified.

I can't help but compare the stark difference of His Soul with His body.  His soul was flawless.  Not one sin marked Him. His heart was pure, and completely without blemish. In comparison, His body was broken and torn, exposing muscle and entrails.  Our Spotless Redeemer, was broken for the sins of the world.  That robe placed upon His open wounds, was my sin.  He wore it out of Love for me. 

Our Savior began His journey to Calvary supremely deprived of blood and sleep, but full of mercy.  That was our cross.  For our sins.  And He carried it, to die on it.  For all of humanity.  Christ, in route to His death, carried that rugged wooden cross, the tool of His torturous execution. He willingly carried it tied to His hands, and lifted by the scourged out shoulders and balanced against the head that had been spit upon, beaten with fists, struck with a reed and punctured with a taunting crown of thorns.  In John, it says that He took off on the journey to His crucifixion carrying His own cross, but somewhere along the way the soldiers grabbed a passerby to help.  I'm not sure if Jesus was physically not able to carry the cross after the torment He endured or if the soldiers just assumed that in His critical condition He would never make it, but there from the country, Simon from Cyrene, was there to bear some of the burden of his Lord’s cross.

I believe this picture of Simon taking the cross was meant to be an illustration of how to live.  Simon abandoned everything right then, and followed Christ, while carrying the cross.  Simon was right there behind Him; only a touch away.  He could see the thorns digging into the back of Christ’s head.  He could see the skin and chunks of muscle hanging down the seams across His back.  He could hear the deep whimpers as Christ bore our sins.  He could hear the wheezing sound of His lungs gasping for air so that He wouldn't be taken by the weight of the cross on route, but that He could make it to Calvary's hill to be taken as the Blood Sacrifice as the Perfect Lamb of God. Did Simon realize in that moment, “My Redeemer, Those are my thorns!  Those are my seams!  Those are my sins!”?

Jesus told His disciples, “If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross and follow me.” (Matthew 6:23).  The cross was a symbol of a humiliating and horrible death.  To take up my cross is to wholeheartedly die to my selfish desires, and surrender to Him fully and without limits.

Who am I that this Man, Who was in the framework of creation, would suffer in such a way to take my sin?  I am His.  And His love is greater than anything I'll ever be able to understand.

Dear Lord, take my life and make it yours.  I was not there with You, like Simon was, but my sins were.  I know those were my thorns, my seams and my sins.  What You did for me shouts of Your abounding love and amazing grace.  I take up the cross and follow You.