Matthew 27

This week, the cross has crushed me with all its weight. I can think of two times this week when I thought about what Jesus did and literally I was sobbing. Tears streaming down my face, totally broken at the foot of that old rugged cross. And, there were many other times where my eyes welled up with tears. This is not normal for me. I am not a big cryer. I am a man. I grew up on a tree farm. My toys were engines and chainsaws. When I broke a limb it was inappropriate to cry... "walk it off." Me and my brothers are all that way (4 boys- you can read ''MEN"). Unfortunately that makes us slightly clueless about girls, but none the less, crying is foreign to me. And, this week I have done a lot of it. When you read about Jesus in Matthew, you realize how completely horrible the whole thing was. This was a man that was faultless. All he had ever done is help and heal and teach people. He was so selfless, so caring, so compassionate. Yet, in Matthew 27 we find him standing before accusers, and being ridiculed, and ultimately being crucified. And, the only crime they could post on his crucifix was, "King of the Jews."

I hate reading about the public humilition of Jesus. When the soldiers are mocking him and spitting in his face, and slapping him, and pulling out his beard, I want Jesus for just one minute to display his Godness. I want him to display his utter power and crush his adversaries. I want him to show them that he is the Living God. But, like a sheep is silent before the shearers, Jesus did not open his mouth. (Isaiah 53: 7) He took it all. At Central's staff meeting last week we looked at how intense his suffering was. All of the gospel accounts display how horrid the time leading to his death was. And the reason that Jesus had to suffer in those ways is because of the wrath of God. God was pouring out on Jesus the fullness of His wrath. He was exhausting completely his wrath on Jesus. And, the thing that gets me the most is that I deserve it! He was faultless but I am guilty. He is an innocent man, but I have blood on my hands. My savior endured torture and ridicule and punishment that is due to me?! So when I have taken communion this week and thought about my Jesus being slapped by roman soldiers and ridiculed and spit on, my heart breaks. That should be me. Not him. Not him at all.