Monthly Archives: June 2014

Watch This Space!

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WATCH THIS SPACE! 

“Later, Jospeh of Arimathea asked Pilate for the body of Jesus. Now Joseph was a disciple of Jesus, but secretly because he feared the Jewish leaders. With Pilate’s permission, he came and took the body away. He was accompanied by Nicodemus, the man who earlier had visited Jesus at night. Nicodemus brought a mixture of myrrh and aloes, about seventy-five pounds. Taking Jesus’ body, the two of them wrapped it, with the spices, in strips of linen. This was in accordance with Jewish burial customs.” John 19:38-40 NIV.

The wind tugged at a wisp of hair, coated with blood and sweat, that strayed from the matted tangle on the head of the bloodied corpse. A few soldiers stood guard around the crosses in the eerie twilight that had settled prematurely over the landscape, waiting for the order to take down the bodies and deposit them in the smouldering fire in the Valley of Hinnom.

Two men appeared out of the gloom, accompanied by an official from Pilate. A quiet word from the Roman officer and the soldiers heaved the centre cross from its hole in the rock and lowered it to the ground. The body was removed from the wooden torture stake and wrapped in a linen shroud.

Joseph and Nicodemus lifted Jesus and carried His heavy weight to a rocky cave in the nearby hillside. In silence they completed their burial ritual, packing the body with the spices Nicodemus had brought with him and rewrapping the body in the linen cloth and lowering into the raised platform carved out of the rock. The sun was just beginning to set behind the clouds when they had completed their task and said farewell to the Master they had followed in secret.

According to Matthew, their handiwork was closely supervised by Roman soldiers who rolled the huge circular stone across the entrance and sealed it with PIlate’s official seal because the Jewish religious leaders were afraid. Afraid of what? They had heard a runour that Jesus had threatened to come back again. Just in case His disciples schemed to steal His body and hide it elsewhere, to fuel the runour and stir up more trouble, they had demanded a Roman military guard to make sure that it didn’t happen.

Joseph and Nicodemus walked slowly back to the city in silence, heads bowed, each lost in his own thoughts. They were out in the open; they had burnt their bridges. Everyone now knew where their allegiance lay, but it was too late. Jesus was dead. Had they not just laid Him out, covered His body with spices, bound His face with a burial cloth and wrapped Him in a shroud and said their last goodbye?

The Jewish leaders were satisfied. Their tormentor was dead. No more would they hear His accusing voice, pounding on their awakened consciences, keeping them out of sleep at night. As much as they believed they were right and He was wrong, they could not silence the sound of His voice, the sight of His tenderness towards the ones they despised. He was dead and buried and that was that!

And what of the soldiers? They were just doing their job — but  were they? Was it their job to bully the accused? Were they expected to beat Him in the face with their fists? Was it their duty to mock Him and spit on Him? Were they detailed to crown Him with thorns? What they did was above and beyond the call of duty. How did they handle that when they lay in bed at night, especially because they could not get a rise out of Him, not matter how hard they tried! He was gone and they couldn’t change what they had done!

But was He? Before He left them, many times over in spite of their unbelief He had told His disciples, “Watch this space!”

Nothing More To Give

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NOTHING MORE TO GIVE

“Now it was the day of Preparation, and the next day was to be a special Sabbath. Because the Jewish leaders did not want the bodies left on the crosses during the Sabbath, they asked Pilate to have the legs broken and the bodies taken down. The soldiers therefore came and broke the legs of the first man who had been crucified with Jesus, and then those of the other. But when they came to Jesus and found that He was already dead, they did not break His legs. Instead, one of the soldiers pierced Jesus’ side with a spear bringing a sudden flow of blood and water.

“The man who saw it has given testimony, and his testimony is true. He knows that he tells the truth, and he testifies so that you may also believe. These things happened so that the Scripture would be fulfilled: “Not one of His bones was broken,” and, as another Scripture says, “They will look on the one they have pierced.” John 19:31-37 NIV.

What an impression this scene must have made on John! Had he ever watched a crucifixion before? Probably not. He was from Galilee. No doubt Jesus would not have lingered to gaze at so cruel and gruesome a way of execution with His disciples, just for entertainment or out of curiosity, especially knowing that He was to suffer the same fate.

But John was drawn to remain because it was his beloved Master who hung there. He could not tear his eyes away, although he was horrified at what he saw. Three men dangling from wooden stakes, suspended on vicious iron nails, blood dripping from multiple wounds! The one in the centre was hanging limply, head resting on His chest. He was obviously already dead. The other two were in the final minutes of their lives.

To add the final touch to their suffering, at the request of the Jewish leaders, Pilate ordered that their legs be broken to hasten suffocation. With well-aimed blows on their shins, the soldiers did as they had been instructed. First one thief, then the other; but when they looked at the centre figure and saw that He was dead, they didn’t bother. Instead, just to make sure, an unnamed soldier callously dug his spear into Jesus’ side. Out flowed a river of bloody liquid – was it the last of the Saviour’s blood, shed for the sin of the world.

He had given everything. There was nothing more to give. Even the final drops of His blood were sacrificed for us. He was bled out — exsanguinated — just a lifeless shell still hanging there.

This scene was forever etched on John’s memory, so much so that he recorded everything in detail and vouched for his trustworthiness so that his readers would believe his report and put their faith in Jesus as the Son of God. After all, what other character in human history had ever had his story told in such detail hundreds of years before it happened?

Like giant jigsaw puzzle, piece by piece, prophets and poets had written and sung His story, and now it was being put together and lived out in front of John and those who stood by. Anyone who chose to, could put the pieces together and finally look with wonder on the Son of God.

But the picture was not yet complete. A few more pieces remained. As John stood gazing at the spectacle, how did he feel?  He could only look on helplessly, knowing that he had no grave in which to bury Him.  In any case, the body of his Master belonged to the Roman government, and he had no power to rescue Him from the fate of criminals — the Jerusalem rubbish dump in the Valley of Hinnom — where the bodies slowly roasted in the ever-burning fire.

But wait…God had taken care of everything and there was yet another prophecy to be fulfilled. “Therefore my heart is glad and my tongue rejoices; my body will also rest secure, because you will not abandon me to the realm of the dead, nor will you let your faithful one see decay.” Psalm 16:10.

God had His men waiting in the wings…

It Is Finished!

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IT IS FINISHED! 

“Later, knowing that everything had now been finished, and so that Scripture would be fulfilled, Jesus said, ‘I am thirsty.’  A jar of wine vinegar was there, so they soaked a sponge in it, put the sponge on a stalk of the hyssop plant and lifted it to Jesus’ lips. When He had received the drink, Jesus said, ‘It is finished.’ With that, He bowed His head and gave up His spirit.” John 19:28-30 NIV.

The long journey was over! Thirty three years of being human, experiencing humanness is all its forms was over. Human birth, babyhood, growing up as the firstborn in a peasant family; learning, studying, training, over! Navigating all the vicissitudes of human life as well as being exposed to the frustration of uncomprehending disciples, the irritation of jostling and demanding crowds and the relentless antagonism of religious enemies, were over.

Was that all that was finished? Did Jesus heave a sigh of relief that His humiliation, His pain and suffering were over? Was it all about Him? Never! Not by a long shot! Jesus lived for the Father and He died in obedience to the Father. In those three little words, “It is finished!” He encompassed the entire scope of God’s plan to rescue the world from its self-imposed plight.

Every prophetic utterance about His origin, His mother, His birth, His character, His life, His work, His sacrifice, His redemption, His destiny were encapsulated in that one word in the Greek, “Tetelestai!” Finished! Done! Completed! Redemption’s story was written – in His blood. The way to the Father was cleared of the rubble and debris of human sin. The curtain was torn from top to bottom. The huge, unpayable debt was paid. The Father was satisfied. His Son had done the job.

Even His last sigh, “I am thirsty,” spoke volumes to those who would hear. A sponge of vinegar on a stalk of hyssop? What did it mean? John insisted that His utterance was a fulfilment of prophecy? Which prophecy?

The Israelites were instructed to “Take a bunch of hyssop, dip it into the blood in the basin and put some of the blood on the top and on both sides of the doorframe…” Exodus 12:22 NIV.

Why hyssop? Hyssop, a member of the mint family, grew plentifully in the Middle East and was used for cleansing, medicinal and flavouring purposes. It symbolised cleansing from sin as David’s prayer suggests. After his adulterous affair with Bathesheba and all the terrible things he did to cover up his sin, the broken-hearted king pleaded with God, “Cleanse me with hyssop and I shall be clean; wash me and I shall be whiter than snow.” Psalm 51:7 NIV.

Was Jesus saying, in His final prophetic words, that the work of cleansing was done? He had drunk the cup of the Father’s wrath down to the dregs. He could release His spirit to the Father in the assurance that He had fully accomplished the work of redemption and His sacrifice had been accepted. Death could not hold Him in its grip for even death and hell had been overcome.

Those around the cross could gloat and cheer because their evil work was finished. There was nothing more than they could do to the Son of God. They had shown Him, with all the vicious cruelty they could muster, what they thought of God. When it was all over, and the victim of their hatred hung tattered and lifeless, they were left to gaze at their handiwork, relieved to know that they could get on with their lives because He was no longer around to confront them.

But would they? Jesus’ life was over but little did they know that their woes had only just begun. Finished? Yes and no. His earthly life may have been over but he was alive in eleven men and many women, and in a few short weeks the Holy Spirit would light a flame in these men and women that they would never be able to put out.

A Tender Moment

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A TENDER MOMENT 

“Near the cross of Jesus stood His mother, His mother’s sister, Mary the wife of Clopas, and Mary Magdalene. When Jesus saw His mother there, and the disciple whom He loved standing nearby, He said to her, ‘Woman, here is your son,’ and to the disciple, ‘Here is your mother.’ From that time on, the disciple took her into his home.” John 19:25-27 NIV.

A little group of women, alone and vulnerable in a crowd of abusive men and Roman soldiers. Did they care? They cared enough about Jesus to ignore the hostile mob around them. They stood near the cross, near enough to hear His laboured breathing and to watch the pool of blood spreading on the ground beneath the cross. They clung to one another for support and comfort in their grief. The one who was suffering the agony of hell, innocent as He was, was dearer to them than any other person on earth.

As much as He needed His disciples at that moment, (and only His beloved disciple was near enough to talk to), Jesus needed the women. They loved Him. They believed in Him, no matter what the religious authorities and the Roman government had done to Him. They wept for Him and for themselves for their loss. He was beyond their touch and their help. They would no longer be able to care for Him, prepare food, mend His garments, listen to His gracious teaching and be close to Him.

Mary, His mother felt it the most. Did she not carry Him in her womb for nine precious months as she pondered on the angel’s message and felt His tiny life stirring within her? Had she not borne the pain of His birth, and known the joy of holding the soft bundle in her arms? Had she not suckled Him and watched Him grow sturdy and strong?

Did she not lovingly nurture Him to robust young adulthood and then have to let Him go after thirty years of His being there in her home caring for her as her first-born son? Did she not often hold His strong hands, calloused from the hard work which her beloved Joseph had taught Him to do?

She felt as though her heart was being ripped from her chest. Although He had been long gone from her home, she knew He was still there somewhere, alive and available from time to time as He moved around the country. Now she could only watch helplessly as His life slipped away. He was so young, too young to die. All she would have left would be her precious memories.

John also stood nearby. Many thoughts flooded his mind as he watched the gruesome scene with horror. He had only know Jesus for just over three years, but they were three action-packed years, full of never-to-be forgotten miracles and riveting new ideas in the company of a man who was like no one he had ever known. He had watched and listened, and had eventually been convinced and embraced Jesus as the Son of God.

Jesus’ love was gentle, tender and all-encompassing. He cared about the throw-away people, who lived on the fringe of society, whom everyone else considered trash. He was bold and courageous in the face of open hostility from the powerful religious leaders. He spoke the truth in the face of criticism, anger and abuse and was unfazed by the threat of death because He knew who He was and why He had come. He almost seemed to invite arrest and the possibility of execution because He fearlessly exposed their hypocrisy and refused to back down on His claims.

Listen to Him in His dying moments. As awful as His agony was at that moment, He saw His mother and felt her sorrow. With painful gasps He entrusted her to His beloved friend, John, and John to her. She would have a new son, and John a new mother, united in their grief and in their love for Jesus.

As we inch our way through these terrible hours, six long hours of unspeakable suffering, we see a naked man, clothed in His own blood and the spittle of those who despised Him, wearing His royal robe with dignity and honour because it represented victory over prejudice, bigotry, and irrational hatred; His tender love for those who loved Him and forgiveness for those who hated Him and tortured Him to death. His final, rasping words were words of compassion for those who suffered with Him, always forgetting Himself in the face of the needs of others.

His plight at that moment was His response to the greatest need of all, the need of all mankind to be reconciled to the Father and to come back home. He paid the debt so that we can be forgiven and accepted into God’s forever family.

His Royal Robe

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HIS ROYAL ROBE 

“When the soldiers crucified Jesus, they took His clothes, dividing them into four shares, one for each of them, with the undergarment remaining. This garment was seamless, woven in one piece from top to bottom.

“‘Let’s not tear it,’ they said to one another, ‘Let’s decide by lot who will get it.’ This happened that the Scripture might be fulfilled that said, “They divided my clothes among them and cast lots for my garment.” So this is what the soldiers did.” John 19:23, 24 NIV.

Of course, if the soldiers gambled for Jesus’ clothing, it meant only one thing. He was left undressed.

He was suspended on four nails, lifted up and hanging on a cross, stark naked except for the thorny crown on His brow and the coating of blood that had congealed over His broken flesh. He had not only faced the agony of crucifixion after the horror of flogging; He now also endured the embarrassment and shame of nakedness; everyone around the cross and the passers-by could gaze at Him.

What did they see?

There were no garments to hide what the Roman soldiers had done to Him. His body was bloodied and broken beyond recognition. His face was bruised and swollen from the soldiers’ abuse; they had hit Him in the face with their fists; there were bald and bloodied patches on His cheeks where they had ripped out His beard. They had mocked Him and spat in His face. They had jammed a crown of thorns on His head, the vicious barbs piercing deep into His flesh, leaving rivulets of blood mixed with spittle streaming down His face, and into His eyes and mouth.

But, according to Jewish culture, it was not a sin to be naked; it was a sin to look at a naked person. The Jews, therefore, would have turned their faces away. It was the Roman soldiers who would have gloated over the spectacle of His naked body hanging from their torture stake; and gazed at their handiwork!

How many Scriptures were fulfilled in these two verses!

“They divide my clothes among them and cast lots for my garment.” Psalm 22:18 NIV

“…His appearance was so disfigured beyond that of any human being and His form marred beyond human likeness…” Isaiah 52:14b NIV.

“I offered my back to those who beat me, my cheeks to those who pulled out my beard; I did not hide my face from mocking and spitting.” Isaiah 50:6 NIV.

“Like one from whom people hide their faces, He was despised and we held Him in low esteem.” Isaiah 53:5b NIV.

“They will look upon me, the one they have pierced, and they will mourn for Him as one mourns for an only child, and grieve bitterly for Him as one grieves for a firstborn son.” Zechariah 12:10 NIV.

Even the Father could not look upon His naked and ruined Son. Jesus’ broken body bore the brunt of all human sin — summed up in the hatred that was visible for everyone to see. God turned His face away and tore His garment — the great veil in the temple that hid His glory from the eyes of the people — and mourned for His Son.

But Jesus wore His wounds and His nakedness like a royal robe. It was not in shame but in triumph that He hung on the cross. His body proclaimed to the world, “Look what you did to me!” but His spirit remained pure and unstained by sin. Every blow to His body and every mocking word to His heart could not entice Him to hate. To His dying breath He loved them — “Father, forgive them. They don’t know what they are doing.”