Day Eighteen

MAKING THE PASSION PERSONAL
A Journey with Jesus to the Cross and Beyond

by Tricia McCary Rhodes

DAY EIGHTEEN-- Sentenced

Thorns, it seems, always accompany visits to glory. No one who has
walked in Christ's presence will ever be allowed to strut.

Jamie Buckingham

Rejoice today that God is here. Turn your thoughts toward Him, asking that He reveal Himself to you in a unique way through this time with Him.

Hundreds of years before Christ was sentenced to die on Calvary, Isaiah prophesied of the Passion, saying: Just as many were astonished at you, My people so His appearance was marred more than any man and His form more than the sons of men. (Isaiah 52:14) Read this verse again as you prepare your heart to see the fulfillment of it in today's reading.

Read (or sing) the words to the following old hymn meditatively, offering them as your own prayer to the Lord.

O Sacred Head, Now Wounded
Bernard of Clairvaux, Public Domain

O sacred head, now wounded, with grief and shame weighed down,
Now scornfully surrounded, with thorns your only crown,
O sacred head, no glory now from your face does shine;
Yet, though despised and gory, I joy to call you mine.

Men mock and taunt and jeer you. They smite your countenance.
Though mighty worlds shall fear you and flee before your glance.
How pale you are with anguish, with sore abuse and scorn!
Your eyes with pain now languish that once were bright as morn!

My burden in your passion, Lord, you have borne for me,
For it was my transgression, My shame, on Calvary.
I cast me down before you; Wrath is my rightful lot.
Have mercy, I implore you; Redeemer, spurn me not!

What language shall I borrow To thank you, dearest Friend,
For this, your dying sorrow, your pity without end?
Oh, make me yours forever, And keep me strong and true;
Lord, let me never, never outlive my love for you.

Pilate watches the crowd with a mixture of disgust and alarm. How he deplores giving them their way. But what else can he do? God knows he has tried to release this eccentric Jew, but now it seems he's out of options. He summons a centurion, mouthing terse orders.

The priests and elders continue their abrasive cries for crucifixion. Jesus sways to one side. He appears to be on the verge of verge of passing out.

The centurion returns holding the arm of Barabbas. Pilate declares his official release and the crowd cheers as he reunites with his fellow revolutionaries below. Meanwhile, the soldiers flanking Jesus pull him along to the palace courtyard. Breathing a collective sigh of relief, the priests and elders are confident that execution is inevitable.

The crowd begins to break up. Some head to the temple for worship, while others move to the marketplace to buy unleavened bread for the day's meal. Many remain, waiting for the prisoner to be led out to the place called Golgotha.

Inside the courtyard, hundreds of soldiers form rows in military precision to prepare for the imminent death march. What a pitiful sight is the accused -- one more man with a messiah complex. How could he have ever made any claim to royalty? What would make him dream such dreams?

A few joke at the absurdity of the whole thing. One soldier grabs a thin branch covered with long hard thorns from a pile of firewood nearby, and begins to weave it into a wreath to crown the would-be king.

Seeing them, a captain from the Italian regiment takes off his military robe. With dramatic flare, he drapes it across Jesus' shoulders, bowing deeply as he backs away. One by one others pick up the revelry, laughing and taunting the Christ. Finished with his crown, the soldier stands back and admires his artwork, placing it on Jesus' head to mimick an official coronation.

"Hail, King of the Jews!" he cries out jovially. Others crowd around, fawning over Jesus as they drop to their knees and salute with words of cheer.

A centurion calls out: "His scepter -- he is a king, he must have a scepter!" Someone grabs one of the branches from the pile and places it in Jesus' right hand.

He is so very alone now. What must he feel in this crowd? At least his own people, though they knew him not, expectantly awaited the Messiah foretold in sacred Scripture. Whether they loved or hated him, Jesus' claims were always taken seriously.

But these Gentiles -- have they ever wanted a savior? Or does the power they hold rob them of any sense of their need? When Jesus looks at them, does he see the frailty behind their pride? In the mocking faces, does he see some who will one day follow him? Does he gaze into the eyes of a Cornelius and secretly rejoice at what he will be, once the price has been paid for his sins?

The blood drips down into his eyes and across his face, the makeshift crown slipping from his matted hair. Someone grabs a branch and hits at it, embedding the barbs in his skull. Lust for blood spurs other soldiers to join in pounding Jesus' head with reeds.

Soon their abuse grows to a feverish pitch. One squares off, slaps Jesus and spits in his face. A few others follow suit. The fun and games have become a sadistic sport, with Jesus the impotent victim.

Hail, King of the Jews! Crowned with thorns, the King of kings finally faces death's mournful march. Eternal darkness looms over the One to whom every eye will one day look, though for now his battered face is repulsive to see. Weak and powerless, the Son of God advances toward a host of hell's demons to wage the final war for the souls of men.

The walk to Golgotha is almost here. Consider the emotions Jesus must face at this moment. Think of His physical state. Contemplate the mockery that He faced from the Romans. See this scene before you, and then read the following description of the exalted Messiah, Jesus Christ:

I saw one like a son of man, clothed in a robe reaching to the feet, and girded across His chest with a golden sash. His head and His hair were white like white wool, like snow; and His eyes were like a flame of fire. His feet were like burnished bronze, when it has been made to glow in a furnace, and His voice was like the sound of many waters. In His right hand He held seven stars, and out of His mouth came a sharp two-edged sword; and His face was like the sun shining in its strength. When I saw Him, I fell at His feet like a dead man...
Revelation 1:13-17

Consider the contrast. Reflect on what Jesus endured in light of the reality of His Deity. Write a prayer of adoration based on these thoughts, using 2 Corinthians 8:9 as a basis: For you know the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, that though He was rich, yet for your sake He became poor, so that you through His poverty might become rich.

Oh my Lord of lords -- You, whose head should bear only crowns of gold, are wreathed with nasty thorns. You, who should be hailed as matchless King, are ridiculed with words of salutation. You, whose heavenly anthem should drown all other sounds, are deluged with derisive taunts. Every melody of love loses its luster in light of this haunting song you sing. How can we ever join the chorus, except with tears?