Day Fifteen

Today we will look at the scourging of Jesus. This may be difficult, painful, and can even be repulsive. Spend enough time in God's presence to prepare your heart. Read aloud or sing the words to the following old hymn:

Zechariah prophesied of this fountain, long before Christ came to shed His blood. In that day a fountain will be opened for the house of David and for the inhabitants of Jerusalem, for sin and for impurity. (Zechariah 13:1). Spend some time in silent gratitude for the cleansing streams provided for your own sin and impurity.

Paul wrote of his desire to know the fellowship of Christ's sufferings (Philippians 3:10). The word "fellowship" referred almost to a sense of partnership. Offer yourself to walk in communion through these sufferings of the Lord, asking Him to reveal Himself to you in a fresh way today.

Inside the palace courtyard, soldiers prepare for the scourging, paying little attention to Jesus. With business-like precision one rips the robe from his shoulders and another removes the rest of his clothes. A grim-faced Jesus offers no resistance.

Exposed . . . vulnerable . . . defenseless in every way. Does he commune in spirit with his Father as the morning air assaults his naked body? Is this part of the cup he cried out against in the Garden only hours ago?

Roughly they drag him to a column stained with layer after layer of blood. Pushing him to his knees, they lift his arms above his head, securing them to the post. A soldier stands to his right and another to his left, awaiting the order to begin. Does Jesus see frail sinners in need of a Savior behind their hardened eyes?

Each holds a vicious looking whip, several feet long. Halfway down it is split into numerous leather strips to which pieces of sheep bone are attached. Two lead balls hang at the end of every strip.

Jesus knows a brief moment of cool relief as he rests his cheek against the column.

"Begin!" The command is given.

The soldier on the right, well trained and competent from years of experience with the flagellum, strikes the first blow. A crack resounds throughout the courtyard, spilling over into the silent wake of those who wait outside.

At first, the bones make tiny cuts on Jesus' back, the iron balls raising red welts that quickly turn to purple bruises. With each blow, Jesus' body recoils. Before he can even catch his breath, another strike is administered.

Crack.

Silence.

Crack.

Silence.

And on and on it goes until the first soldier tires. The second steps in quickly, not missing a beat. By now the small cuts are bleeding profusely, and a few of the large bruises are breaking open.

Jesus' strength fails, the loss of blood making him lightheaded and dizzy. He winces now only slightly with each lash of the whip.

Crack.

Silence.

Crack.

Silence.

Blood is beginning to gush from several places. Soldiers turn away, feigning busyness to avoid the horrid sight of gaping wounds. Tiny ribbons of flesh are all that remain on Jesus' back.

The officer is just doing a job -- one he's done a thousand times before. But does he have any idea to whom he inflicts such hideous blows?

Crack.

Silence.

Crack.

Silence.

Crack.

The two soldiers take their turns, oblivious to the condition of the prisoner until Pilate enters and calls a halt to the bloody operation. The victim has not moved for several minutes now. If he dies here, they will all face grave reprimands, and the loss of their esteemed position in the royal army.

Quickly they move to untie him. Flanking him on either side, soldiers lift the near unconscious prisoner to his feet. Jesus manages to open his eyes briefly, and somehow finds the fortitude to stand. Searing pain slices through him as they drape his clothes over his battered body.

Then he is led out to the platform. The crowd waits in anticipation for the grand finale of their morning merrymaking. Soldiers on either side secure his feet and gingerly step away. Somehow he manages not to collapse. Pilate, frustrated and frightened because of his wife's dream, looks at the beaten down would-be king.

Rancor resonates in his curt challenge to the crowd: Behold the man!

And demons delight. The Father hangs his head and weeps, for though he could heal the mass of bleeding tissue with a word, He won't. The words of the prophet Isaiah play a haunting melody through the halls of heaven. Today the Son of God is bruised for the iniquities of a dying world, and by his stripes, humanity can finally be healed.

Respond

Take a minute to contemplate the moments of scourging Christ endured. As you form this picture in your mind, read the following passage:

Surely our griefs He himself bore, and our sorrows He carried; yet we ourselves esteemed Him stricken, smitten of God, and afflicted. But He was pierced through for our transgressions, He was crushed for our iniquities; the chastening for our well-being fell upon Him, and by His scourging we are healed. All of us like sheep have gone astray, each of us has turned to his own way; but the LORD has caused the iniquity of us all to fall on Him.
Isaiah 53:4-6.

In every bruise that each ball of lead inflicted, see your personal sin. With each bloody cut the leather and bone made, see the healing you have come to know in Him. Write this passage out in your own words as a prayer of worship.

Receive forgiveness and healing, rejoicing (perhaps in a bittersweet way) that Jesus endured what he did.

Must I go on Lord Jesus? I can barely stand to see myself through the gaping wounds on your back. My stomach churns and I want to walk away. The journey to the Cross is fraught with a thousand deaths and I'm not sure if I am prepared to embrace each one. To know the fellowship of your sufferings is not so simple. Sustain me in my quest dearest Savior and I will seek to share your sorrow.



MAKING THE PASSION PERSONAL A Journey with Jesus to the Cross and Beyond by Tricia McCary Rhodes DAY FIFTEEN -- Scourged Of all the pains that lead to salvation this is the most pain, to see thy Love suffer. How might any pain be more to me than to see Him that is all my life, all my bliss, and all my joy suffer? Julian of Norwich Reflect Today we will look at the scourging of Jesus. This may be difficult, painful, and can even be repulsive. Spend enough time in God's presence to prepare your heart. Read aloud or sing the words to the following old hymn: There is a Fountain, Filled with Blood William Cowper, 1722, Public Domain There is a fountain, filled with blood, drawn from Emmanuel's veins. And sinners plunged beneath that flood, lose all their guilty stains. Lose all their guilty stains, lose all their guilty stains, And sinners plunged beneath that flood, lose all their guilty stains. E'er since, by faith, I saw the stream Thy flowing wounds supply, Redeeming love has been my theme, and shall be till I die. And shall be till I die, and shall be till I die; Redeeming love has been my theme, and shall be till I die. Zechariah prophesied of this fountain, long before Christ came to shed His blood. In that day a fountain will be opened for the house of David and for the inhabitants of Jerusalem, for sin and for impurity. (Zechariah 13:1). Spend some time in silent gratitude for the cleansing streams provided for your own sin and impurity. Paul wrote of his desire to know the fellowship of Christ's sufferings (Philippians 3:10). The word "fellowship" referred almost to a sense of partnership. Offer yourself to walk in communion through these sufferings of the Lord, asking Him to reveal Himself to you in a fresh way today. Read The chastening for our well-being fell upon Him, and by His scourging we are healed. Isaiah 53:5 Inside the palace courtyard, soldiers prepare for the scourging, paying little attention to Jesus. With business-like precision one rips the robe from his shoulders and another removes the rest of his clothes. A grim-faced Jesus offers no resistance. Exposed . . . vulnerable . . . defenseless in every way. Does he commune in spirit with his Father as the morning air assaults his naked body? Is this part of the cup he cried out against in the Garden only hours ago? Roughly they drag him to a column stained with layer after layer of blood. Pushing him to his knees, they lift his arms above his head, securing them to the post. A soldier stands to his right and another to his left, awaiting the order to begin. Does Jesus see frail sinners in need of a Savior behind their hardened eyes? Each holds a vicious looking whip, several feet long. Halfway down it is split into numerous leather strips to which pieces of sheep bone are attached. Two lead balls hang at the end of every strip. Jesus knows a brief moment of cool relief as he rests his cheek against the column. "Begin!" The command is given. The soldier on the right, well trained and competent from years of experience with the flagellum, strikes the first blow. A crack resounds throughout the courtyard, spilling over into the silent wake of those who wait outside. At first, the bones make tiny cuts on Jesus' back, the iron balls raising red welts that quickly turn to purple bruises. With each blow, Jesus' body recoils. Before he can even catch his breath, another strike is administered. Crack. Silence. Crack. Silence. And on and on it goes until the first soldier tires. The second steps in quickly, not missing a beat. By now the small cuts are bleeding profusely, and a few of the large bruises are breaking open. Jesus' strength fails, the loss of blood making him lightheaded and dizzy. He winces now only slightly with each lash of the whip. Crack. Silence. Crack. Silence. Blood is beginning to gush from several places. Soldiers turn away, feigning busyness to avoid the horrid sight of gaping wounds. Tiny ribbons of flesh are all that remain on Jesus' back. The officer is just doing a job -- one he's done a thousand times before. But does he have any idea to whom he inflicts such hideous blows? Crack. Silence. Crack. Silence. Crack. The two soldiers take their turns, oblivious to the condition of the prisoner until Pilate enters and calls a halt to the bloody operation. The victim has not moved for several minutes now. If he dies here, they will all face grave reprimands, and the loss of their esteemed position in the royal army. Quickly they move to untie him. Flanking him on either side, soldiers lift the near unconscious prisoner to his feet. Jesus manages to open his eyes briefly, and somehow finds the fortitude to stand. Searing pain slices through him as they drape his clothes over his battered body. Then he is led out to the platform. The crowd waits in anticipation for the grand finale of their morning merrymaking. Soldiers on either side secure his feet and gingerly step away. Somehow he manages not to collapse. Pilate, frustrated and frightened because of his wife's dream, looks at the beaten down would-be king. Rancor resonates in his curt challenge to the crowd: Behold the man! And demons delight. The Father hangs his head and weeps, for though he could heal the mass of bleeding tissue with a word, He won't. The words of the prophet Isaiah play a haunting melody through the halls of heaven. Today the Son of God is bruised for the iniquities of a dying world, and by his stripes, humanity can finally be healed. Respond Take a minute to contemplate the moments of scourging Christ endured. As you form this picture in your mind, read the following passage: Surely our griefs He himself bore, and our sorrows He carried; yet we ourselves esteemed Him stricken, smitten of God, and afflicted. But He was pierced through for our transgressions, He was crushed for our iniquities; the chastening for our well-being fell upon Him, and by His scourging we are healed. All of us like sheep have gone astray, each of us has turned to his own way; but the LORD has caused the iniquity of us all to fall on Him. Isaiah 53:4-6. In every bruise that each ball of lead inflicted, see your personal sin. With each bloody cut the leather and bone made, see the healing you have come to know in Him. Write this passage out in your own words as a prayer of worship. Receive forgiveness and healing, rejoicing (perhaps in a bittersweet way) that Jesus endured what he did. A Prayer Must I go on Lord Jesus? I can barely stand to see myself through the gaping wounds on your back. My stomach churns and I want to walk away. The journey to the Cross is fraught with a thousand deaths and I'm not sure if I am prepared to embrace each one. To know the fellowship of your sufferings is not so simple. Sustain me in my quest dearest Savior and I will seek to share your sorrow. << Back to the Daily Devotionals, Home or Unsubscribe Copyright © 2004 Tricia McCary Rhodes