In keeping with the season I thought I would repost these
thoughts originally posted in Dec 2005 and again the last two Easters. I don't
want to be-labor the suffering of Christ, only to share a little of
what He went through. It helps me to know that He loved me enough to
do this for me. Matt 26:65-68 talks about the end of Jesus' "trial"
before the Sanhedrin before He was taken to Pilate. It reads like this:
Then
the high priest tore his clothes, saying, He has spoken blasphemy! What
further need do we have of witnesses? Behold, now you have heard his
blasphemy. What do you think? They answered and said, He is worthy of
death. Then they spat in His face and beat Him with the fist. And
others struck Him with the palms of their hands, saying, Prophesy to
us, Christ; who is the one who struck you?
Now
just take a minute or 2 or 3 and put yourself in Jesus place. Here He
is before the council. They have pronounced Him guilty and now
somehow, someone decides to have some fun with the prisoner. He gets
up, walks over to Jesus (who's hands are tied) and spits on Him. Not
on His feet or His chest or His arms. Right in His face. Right smack
in the middle, perhaps on His forehead. The big lugi runs down His
face, into His eyes. Then another of these highly respected, pious,
religious leaders lets go with another one. Right on target. Then
comes another and another. With no ability to block the saliva
projectiles He can only close His eyes and allow them to land as they
will. As His face and beard are filled with this disgusting substance
and He stands there unprotected someone gets another bright idea.
"Put
a blindfold on Him!" someone shouts. "Why, why?" they wonder. The
blindfold is put in place. A hand and arm extends and slaps Him on the
right cheek.
"Hey, prophet! Who hit you?"
He knows. In His
mind {Ah, Zechariah, how I love you. I remember when we met. Those 4
men lowered their friend through the roof. You watched and for a
moment you believed.} SMACK! Another blow.
"Haha, Messiah! Who was it this time?"
Again,
He knows. {Jonas! I love you as well. I remember meeting you on the
road. You asked me how to have eternal life. We talked for a minute,
you wanted to believe but your riches kept you from committing.} POW! A
third blow.
"Hey King! Take a guess!
With each one, He knows!
{Jeremiah, you taught me in the temple when I was 12, you wondered at
my understanding, you were curious, but you let your own knowledge be
your ruler. I love you.} BAM! Again they strike.
"Why the silence teacher?"
But
He knows, no guessing needed. {I love you Zedekiah! There was that day
by in the mountains. I fed you all, you ate and were filled but you
refused to believe and have your spirit fed.}
So it continued.
The hatred, the anger, contrasted with the simple love of God. The
never ending, magnificent love. It brought Jesus here as a baby, kept
Him while He was growing up and moved Him to walk among us for 33
years. Then He suffered like this for me. And you.
