Oh gosh, there were so many... too many.
I wanted to ask Him what's going on in his mind in the Calvary as he faced head-on the brutality of the very people he loves so much and came to save. Being betrayed and disowned by his closest disciples and rejected by the people he once delivered. The mental and emotional torment is unimaginable. He could have given up. Imagine the change He has to make, the distance He has to travel. What would it be like to become flesh?
You would have thought God Himself would make a more spectacular entry into the world He created. Even the invading aliens from "War of the Worlds" could have done better. Freak lightning storms. Strong gusts of wind. Clouds twirling above... swirling around a single spot above. Meteor shower. Shooting stars. EMPs. Time stopped... literally. Earthquakes. Bolts of lighting striking the ground. Trumpets of angels echoed. Chorus of joyous singing in the background. Heavens open. And in a flash of blinding, white light. Behold! God Almighty has arrived! In style too... But as things turn out, when He came, hardly anyone noticed. Bethlehem held no parade, no celebration. No... nothing like that sort. Of all places... a dirty, stinky stable?? A poor, small-time carpenter Joseph for father? You would have expect someone with more clout... richer, smarter and powerful. Joseph can't even afford a hotel room, for goodness 's sake.
One evening, an army of ants has invaded my dinner table. "Must be the remnants of mossels of last night's supper," I thought. Leaning down to make sure they could hear me, "Hey, ants! Shoo! Let me have my meal in peace." No reply. No one looked in my direction. Then I realized, "I don't speak their language. They won't understand what I'm trying to tell them." On hindsight, I must have looked pretty silly trying to communicate to a group of ants. So what could I do to reach them, to pass them the message instead of just killing them in one stamp of the hand? Only 1 thing. I needed to become an ant. To become one of them. Go from 1.70 metres to a teeny-weeny. From 64kg to a millionth of a milligram. Swap my big world for their tiny one. Give up eating burgers to eating leftover mossels and trash. "No thanks! No way I'm going to give up what I have now to be an ANT!" I said.
How does it feels like to bear the weight of sins of all Mankind on His shoulders? To be wrongfully accused and persecuted of crimes He never commit. To be punished when He is innocent. To be mocked and beaten publicly as He paraded half-naked or naked(which some historians believe) along the streets. Streets lined with people on both sides, ridiculing and sneering. "Let Him save Himself if He's Christ, the Chosen One." Just Him and His Cross. 3 times He stumbled and fell, under its sheer weight. Weak. Groggy. Battered. Blood streaming down His face from the crown of thorns. Blurred vision. Parched lips. Gory back. Cold, clammy sweat from shock. Dehydrated. Exhausted. Bloodied body broken, mutilated and barely recognizable as a man. Flesh ripped to shreds. Hands and feet impaled to the Cross. Mouth agape. Gasping for breath. Struggling to hold on as long as He can. Despised and rejected by the world He created, He pressed on. Using every ounce of energy left in that disfigured body, each breath He drawn is labored. A wheezing noise from the lungs. Life's ebbing out of His body. Those eyes... half-shut, lifeless, sorrowful, yet a sense of quiet determination to complete what He is born to do. God trapped in a human body. Fragile. Helpless. Dying. Surely, Jesus can simply walk away from all that. At any step along the way he could have called it quits. But he didn't. "He was in the world, and though the world was made through Him, the world did not recognize Him. He came to that which was His own, but His own did not receive Him." (John 1:10-11) The suffering of Christ was portrayed in all of its horror. It began with him praying in the garden and his humble “thy will be done.” In the midst of pain and sorrow, his thoughts were about others.
Jagged nails... splintered wood... furrowed wounds... fractured body... cause of death: asphyxiation. Unimaginable pain He suffered. But none hurt as much as the indifference and rejection of Man. Doors slammed in His face, backs turned on Him, backstabbed by whom He called "friends", blows after blows rained upon His heart that day. That is where the hurt is. That is what pained Him the most.
How disappointed is Jesus when those that verbally accepted Him as Christ, listened to His preachings, saw His miracles, simply turned a blind eye and walked away when He is prosecuted on the Calvary. In the distance, the women who had followed His teachings from Galilee, watched as the humiliation and punishment were administered. One by one they came, they gathered, they watched, they witnessed as the drama unfolded before them. But not one... no... not a single soul dare to come forward and testified Jesus is the Son of Man. Jesus is not ashamed of them... but they are ashamed of Christ. How did Jesus endure treatment like that? At any point, he could have said, "I quit. I've had enough." Why didn't He? What kept him from giving up? The fact is... He didn't. He refused to turn and leave. Why? Becoz His love for His children was greater than the pain of the journey. His love conquers all that belies His destiny. He came to pull you out. That's why He came. You were dead, mired in sin. That's why He came. He loves you. That's why He came. His Destiny is the Cross.
How Jesus can accept the undecisiveness and fickle-mindedness of Man? One minute they say, "I love you Lord. You're first in my life, before anything else. I'm willing to do anything for you." Yet, at the slightest challenge, the heart falters. Man hesitates to make a stand for God. They don't turn up to meet God. They made Him wait. They fail in their promises. Unlike Jesus, Man always has difficulty in grasping the true meaning of what they say and profess.
Even Jesus Himself has said in Mark 9:19 "How long must I put up with you?" Jesus's actions later on will answer his own question.
Long enough to be called crazy by my brothers and a liar by my neighbors. Long enough to be chased out of my own town and Temple. Long enough to be laughed at, cursed, sweared, slapped, beaten, flogged, blindfolded and mocked. Long enough to feel the warm spit and thorned whips ripped my flesh off and see my own blood puddle at my feet.
How long? "Until the rooster sings and the sweat stings and the mallet rings and a group of demons smirk at a dying God of Most High."
How long? "Long enough for every sin to so soak my sinless soul that heaven will turn in horror until my swollen lips pronounce the final transaction: 'It is finished.'"
How long? "Until it kills me."
Love... bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. (1 Cor 13:4-7)
Jesus did all that. Every single one. That's what true love is and embodies. He has come down from His throne in the Kingdom to lowly earth and shown us how love become the centre His life. Even in His death, love is demonstrated. The precious Lamb of God has personified love. He bore sins, yours and mine too. The standard has been set by the God who says, "He IS love" (1 John 4:16).
Adapted from Max Lucado, A Love Worth Giving. Modified by me
