Thursday bleeds into Friday. And, as much as we may want the clouds to break--they don’t; in fact things get blacker…darker…more sinister, more evil, more distressing, more hopeless. There was no rest for Jesus that night. He went from praying in the garden to being preyed upon by those who had betrayed, arrested, and falsely accused him.
By Friday morning any other human being would have already been physically broken, emotionally strained, and spiritually distressed. But that is not what we see in Jesus. Instead we see extraordinary strength, sharp wits, and unequalled spiritual fortitude. His demeanor impresses the most powerful and infuriates those who most hated. Mark 15 tells us that “very early in the morning” the entire Sanhedrin (council of 70) reached a decision and bound Jesus over to Pilate, the Roman Prefect in Judea. An irreligious, ruthless, calloused man, Pilate was responsible for keeping the peace in Jerusalem during the Passover Feast that brought so many Jewish pilgrims to the city. Things had seemingly been going fairly well that week… until now. Today we will see the day through three people’s eyes. Will you look to see if you can find yourself in their story…who are you? PILATE—“Not my Deal” I had not had a good night sleep because my wife kept waking me with disturbing dreams, so I awoke and dressed and walked along the patio watching the sunrise. “What is all the commotion!? Oh, great! It’s those with flowing robes and running mouths—the Sanhedrin. What are they doing this early in the morning?” “What do you want!” I asked with a tone of indignation and irritability. Maybe that would be enough to move them along. “Justice! We want justice! This man is a blasphemer!” “Why do these self-righteous people bother me with their issues? Why is this my problem? A few more days and this whole Jewish holiday will be over and things will return to normal. But no! Before the sun is even up good, they’ve come seeking audience and dragging me into this religious issue (which is not under my jurisdiction) and they are trying to contort into a civil one.” Deciding to move the scene along, I yelled, “Send him in!” I knew that the Jews wouldn’t come into the courtyard because it would make them “unclean” and unable to do whatever it is that they do--so I just had Jesus brought to me. “So, they say you are the king of the Jews. What do you say?” [Please just say they’re crazy and you and I will both be free for the day,” he thought.] But no, instead he says: “It is as you say.” It wasn’t just what he said, it was how he said it. He didn’t say with resignation. He said it calmly and confidently. Blood was still dripping from the corner of his eyes and his split lips. He didn’t beg for his release. He didn’t walk through the door to freedom that I opened for him. Instead he stood with his shoulders back and looked me in the eye. He wasn’t defiant. He wasn’t acting as a martyr. There was something else—something that I had never seen before—not even in the best of the Roman guards. He had a presence that made even me want to avert my eyes. Though he was saying he was the king of the Jews I didn’t get the sense that he was planning an overthrow of the government. His words had a different tone; a different meaning; something that I didn’t really grasp. But I liked the guy. I didn’t want him to be guilty of treason. I wanted him to walk, but I had to do something quick. I had one trick up my sleeve that I thought might appease the crowd and get us both out of this mess. It was my tradition that I freed one of their prisoners during the Festival Week. I thought that I would extend that offer to the mob outside who would surely ask for Jesus. They could rationalize that he had been tried and satisfied their need for justice. He would have been humiliated and shamed by the arrest; by the look of his body and clothing, they had already exacted some measure of punitive punishment —that should be enough. I would save face because I wouldn’t be seen as weak and Caesar’s name would be protected—it’s what we in politics call a Win-Win scenario! But when I posed the question the response was violent! I could not believe what I was hearing! My face drained and I felt my head getting light. They didn’t want Jesus…they wanted to release the insurrectionist, Barabbas. At first I thought I may have heard them incorrectly, but when I asked again…do you want me to release Jesus of Nazareth?—there was a frenzied scream of ‘Crucify him!’ Seriously! This early in the morning and you are all that riled up? This was a dangerous situation on the verge of being out of control and if they didn’t get what they wanted, I was going to have a major issue on my hand and then my superiors are going to be coming after me! I was trapped. I really had no choice but to give in to them and I reluctantly turned him over to that…to that…beast of a mob. I wanted to make sure that they knew my hands were clean of his death, and so I had a basin of water brought out and symbolically washed his blood from my hands. This was a Jewish problem…not mine. As the guards led him away he looked back over his shoulder and caught my eye. He saw my soul. I couldn’t watch as they led him away. I dropped my head and returned to my chambers. “He’s not my problem”, I said, trying to convince myself. SIMON OF CYRENE—Reluctant and Changed He saw it. He smelled it. He bore it. The cross beam. He didn’t want to—he was forced to. Was he in the wrong place at the wrong time or was it the right place at the right time? This was not on the itinerary! He was expecting festivities—like the other festivals. But, like a stick being swept downstream he was suddenly swept into history. He was making a death march that was not his own. Jesus, the Nazarene, was on his way out of the city to Golgotha to be crucified and Simon was on his way into the city. Jesus was so badly beaten that he hardly resembled a human life. Flayed shreds of skin hung from his bones and from the wooden beam. Blood, dried and running, covered his body, stung his eyes and blurred his vision. Barbs of thorns were embedded into his scalp. The soldiers showed no mercy. Jesus showed no hatred. As he fell to his knees under the weight of the cross beam he gasped for breath, soldiering every ounce of physical strength to take the next step toward his death. But the soldiers were growing restless and impatient of having to wait and this crucifixion needed to happen before sundown—they were on a timetable. So they grabbed the bystander—Simon of Cyrene to assist the criminal. He walked shoulder to shoulder with the Christ. He carried the cross beam. He smelled the death. He tasted the blood. He heard the gasps for air and fluid. He saw into the eyes of this Jesus—and Jesus saw into his soul. Simon, a God-fearing Jew, had travelled some 900 miles to get to Jerusalem for the festival but none of his footsteps had taken him so great a distance as those of the last few minutes. Step by grueling step they walked the inclined road to the place of crucifixion—a site that could be seen by hundreds. Three crosses with three men splayed and displayed as silhouettes against the bright sky. Because he had become tainted by the blood of Jesus Simon was declared unclean by Jewish law and custom, but as he would soon understand, it was actually the blood of Jesus that made him clean, holy and acceptable in God’s eyes. An hour before he was a nameless face in the crowd; now his is a name to be remembered forever in the gospel. He was there for a reason…plucked from the crowd. It wasn’t coincidence—it was God’s perfect timing. TWO THIEVES—The Last Chance (Pass out Nails) 9 a.m. The next several hours were gruesome, graphic and inhumane. Agonizing screams of pain echoed as the three men were nailed to their crosses. The language of the devil spewed from the mouths of soldiers and morbid gawkers as they hurled insults and taunted Jesus to display his “power” and to “fulfill his own prophecies.” The laughter and catcalls emanating from an evil source—claiming victory—stood in stark contrast to the tears flowing from the swollen eyes of those who loved those sentenced to the most torturous death. Roman soldiers gambling for the robe of Jesus were ignorantly gambling with their own lives. Two convicted insurrectionist hung there with Jesus. There was one thing that the two thieves that hung next to Jesus had going for them—they knew the date of their last day on earth…we rarely do. But there is one difference between the two thieves: One thief dies twice on this day. At some point on that fateful and fatal day he took his death breath and hopelessly crossed over to his eternal death forever separated from The Way, the Truth, and the Life. The other Thief? Dies and is re-born on this day. Same verdict: Guilty. Same sentence: death by crucifixion. Same day, same hill. Different forevers…because this thief recognizes Jesus as the Messiah and asked to be remembered by Jesus and Jesus said: “Today you will be with me in paradise.” A piercing glimmer of grace in the face of evil. At noon darkness fell over the land. The sun (Son) was eclipsed. And, for the next three hours dark got darker. 3 pm—Jesus and the thieves had been on their crosses for six hours. Jesus, mostly silent—then used his final bit of energy to utter these words: “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”--bearing the full weight of sin “Father into your hands I commit my spirit.”—in authority “It is finished.”—a proclamation! And at that very moment the earth began to quake and the curtain separating the Most Holy Place was torn in two from top to bottom. A new covenant was cut. And with those words—with that sacrifice of love—the universe was forever changed! Those who would be his inheritance were changed forever
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