Beholding Jesus

As I read these accounts of Jesus on His way to the cross, I was struck by the truth that this is God incarnate submitting to every insult and every blow. They had no idea what they were doing… They were striking God, mocking God, condemning God. This is unfathomable. I can only imagine how all the heavenly host must have watched in shock and horror, if angels can feel horror. The indignation! That the God man would allow these tiny weak human beings, the ones He formed with His own hands and breathed the very breath of life into, are beating and mocking the very One who humbled Himself to come and redeem them. Don’t they know their rebellion has condemned them to hell?!  This is the crowning sin to top them all. Why is He allowing this? What could compel Him to submit to such cruel torture?
And yet He chose to go. This is the hour He was born for. How tragic that the religious rulers, the keepers of the law and the prophets whose job it is watch for the messiah, cannot see Him standing right in front of them.
Jesus is riveting as I follow Him through the story. The air in the Praetorium must have been electric. Here two men stand face to face, one man, beaten and bloody stands before the other, who is pretending to be in control. Pilate’s fear and cowardice radiate off him in frantic waves as he tries to figure out what to do with Jesus, so that he can appease the Jews and stay out of trouble with Rome. The only skin he’s concerned about is his own. He wants to let Jesus go, he knows He’s innocent and that the chief priests are jealous, but because he’s afraid of the consequences of a riot in Jerusalem at the Passover, he caves in to pressure. He knowingly allows an innocent man to be handed over for crucifixion. Who ever saw such a contrast between two rulers…
What must Pilate have thought of Jesus? Here is a man about to be crucified, an excruciating death, and He utters not one word in self-defense; He barely speaks at all. Not once does He plead for His life to be spared. Frankly, it must have freaked Pilate out. What frightened Pilate so much when the chief priests told him Jesus had made Himself out be the Son of God? Did Pilate suspect it was true? Did he put the pieces together? Jesus, who acknowledged being a king, but whose kingdom was from another world, and that He had servants who would fight for Him at just one word? So Pilate runs back in to Jesus; “Where are you from?! Tell me!” No answer. Pilate is frantic. “Why don’t you answer? Don’t you know I have the power to crucify you?” Jesus’ answer is stunning. “You would have no power over me unless it had been given you from above.” Wow. The tension and power that flickers from that dialogue trumps any movie I’ve ever seen.
At first glance, Jesus seems to be the obvious victim in the story, as if this is all happening to Him, but He displays no signs of victimhood. But look closer. Watch Him. He’s completely in control of Himself; this is a willing victim. This is all part of the Plan. He is single minded; a man on a mission. When I think about the fact that He did this to win a bride; that Jesus is the kind of king and bridegroom who lays down His life for His people, so they can live and His bride so He can save her, it takes my breath away. It makes me love Him even more.
Then I think about the disciples and I realize as I read the story, I have the benefit of knowing the end of the story. I know Sunday is coming. I understand the theology. But the disciples didn’t, and I’m sure I wouldn’t have, either, if I had been there. They were certain the inauguration of Jesus’ Messianic kingdom was just around the corner, and they were preparing their acceptance speeches. But what actually unfolded was a nightmare they couldn’t wake up from. From the moment Judas showed up in Gethsemane with the soldiers, everything unraveled and one by one, every hope and dream they had allowed themselves to believe over the past three years was dashed to pieces. Considering what they experienced that night and the next day leads me to think about what it means to enter into the fellowship of Jesus’ suffering, and that the way of the cross is exaltation coming through humiliation. Meditating on that truth and this passage has begun to undo me. It makes me feel lots of different emotions… I feel awe at the brilliance of the cross. No man would have dreamed to accomplish redemption like that, and it’s so beautiful. It’s so upside down. But it’s terrible and terrifying, too. The way of the cross strikes at the heart of every way that is common to my natural self. I want to be like Jesus and to follow Him, but I’m afraid of suffering. I like comfort and being recognized and appreciated. I hate to be misunderstood and I’m afraid of pain, loss, rejection and everything that Jesus embraced at the cross. He embraced everything that I strive so hard to avoid, and yet He is the most happy, glad man ever, and I struggle to find real peace and joy, always wondering what other people think of me, whether they like me or think I’m cool. My jaw hangs open as I consider that Jesus EMBRACED pain, suffering, rejection and humiliation. He endured it willingly, even gladly as the price of His bride. Is that really what I’m worth? Is that what my family is worth? Is that what every human being I’ve ever met and made my judgment in my heart about, whether favorable or unfavorable, is worth to Jesus? It makes me want to spend more time with Him, to know Him more and be closer to His heart, if that’s what He’s like.
And then I think about the people’s response to Jesus as He is presented to them. ‘Behold the man!’ It was so tragic, sad and foolish when the people rejected Jesus and claimed they had no king but Caesar, giving their allegiance to him, since not so many years later, it would be the ruler of Rome who would come and destroy Jerusalem and massacre the Jewish people. They truly didn’t know what would make for their peace, and they rejected the One who came to save them, who they had been waiting thousands of years for, with eager anticipation. They wanted the Messiah to come! But Jesus didn’t fit their description of what Messiah should do or look like. Nor could they recognize what their true enemy looked like. They thought their friend was their enemy and their enemy was their friend.