I’ve been struck by the thought of the feelings of Christ this Lenten season and contemplating how he must have felt during his ordeal. I’m glad this is happening because this is what one wants to happen during Lent: to appreciate the gravity of Christ's suffering. It’s been quite a surprise because I did not set out to do this.
I’ve definitely been more intentional in other years but for some reason, this year, I get it.
Part of this is because I have been going through a challenging season myself (which thankfully is over; more on that soon!) and drawing on the humanity, not the divinity, of Christ for comfort.
When God seems distant, I’m always struck by how Jesus comes more into focus. He stands in the gap when I cannot see what God is doing.
No more is this more true than Holy Week. He actually felt our common human emotions of abandonment, fear, anxiety, stress, loss, betrayal, anger, and most importantly, physical pain, a tough one to relate to a Heavenly Father.
I often have to remind myself that cruxification was torture. It wasn’t the sanitized Christ on the Cross we have seen so many times.
His words carry significance, knowing that even the Son of God was, for those moments, abandoned to carry the weight of our sin:
1 My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?
Why are you so far from saving me,
so far from my cries of anguish?
2 My God, I cry out by day, but you do not answer,
by night, but I find no rest.
7 All who see me mock me;
they hurl insults, shaking their heads.
8 “He trusts in the Lord,” they say,
“let the Lord rescue him.
Let him deliver him,
since he delights in him.”
11 Do not be far from me,
for trouble is near
and there is no one to help.
12 Many bulls surround me;
strong bulls of Bashan encircle me.
13 Roaring lions that tear their prey
open their mouths wide against me.
14 I am poured out like water,
and all my bones are out of joint.
My heart has turned to wax;
it has melted within me.
15 My mouth is dried up like a potsherd,
and my tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth;
you lay me in the dust of death.
16 Dogs surround me,
a pack of villains encircles me;
they pierce my hands and my feet.
17 All my bones are on display;
people stare and gloat over me.
18 They divide my clothes among them
and cast lots for my garment.
Psalm 22:1-2, 7-8, 11-18 NIV
A remarkable occurrence that happens at the same time as Jesus’ death is the fulfillment of prophecy in this scene. Psalm 22 echoes almost word for word at times, what happened at the Cruxification:
And the people stood looking on. But even the rulers with them sneered, saying, “He saved others; let Him save Himself if He is the Christ, the chosen of God.” Luke 23:35 NKJV
“He trusts in the Lord,” they say, “let the Lord rescue him. Let him deliver him, since he delights in him.” Pslam 22:8 NIV
And yet he refused to save himself.
Beloved, we do not serve a Savoir who is unsympathetic to our pain, as Paul writes in Hebrews 4:15, “We do not have a High Priest who cannot sympathize with our weaknesses.”
The most powerful thing that Jesus did was die. You expect the Son of God to be raised from the dead miraculously, but for God to die renders the power of his love undeniable.
This is what makes Good Friday good.
Greater love has no one than this than to lay down one’s life for his friends. John 15:13
Dear Jesus,
Thank you for your sacrifice.
We cannot repay you,
But we will live our lives trying.
Amen.