Dear Luke,
Again, Luke, you are missing the
point. Jesus did not come to amuse and
amaze—which is certainly what would have happened had he descended from that
awful Roman torture device, meant to make execution as painful and prolonged as
possible. Jesus came to transform, to
save the world from sin—and only death could pay this price. While climbing off the cross was possible and
would have saved a few, his death was necessary to save many. As for how the story ends, Luke, I promise
you that the end is not quite as near as you may believe. Hope is not lost, my friend, despite the fact
that it shines quite dimly at this particular hour of our adventure.
Around noon, darkness descended
over the entire land for around three hours.
I wonder how many connected the darkness with the crucifixion of Jesus—I
doubt many did, but surely some looked upon the man on the cross, believed by
many to be the Son of God, and feared the ramifications of his death. Perhaps the darkness even swayed some to
believe. Either way, it was indeed
humanity’s darkest hour—we hung the perfect Son of God on a cross, killing the
one who was meant to save us. It had
been prophesied long ago that we would do so, but that does not make the actuality
any less sad. It is an awful truth,
Luke, and when I think of his innocence and humanity’s guilt, even my own sin,
that led him to the cross, I have to pause and collect my thoughts, for it is
surely overwhelming.
As the sun’s light was failing, the
curtain in the temple was rent in half.
This curtain served to separate the holiest part of the temple from the
rest of the temple, and such an event would have thrown the entire temple into
a tumult. Chaos would have ensued, and
many priests would have prayed fervently.
I take it to mean that access to God was no longer controlled in the
temple—that because of Christ, we all had access to God. There was no more curtain.
Jesus, having hung upon the cross
for hours, life draining from him, found the strength to cry once more. His words were those of a man pierced by the
nails and the hatred of his enemies, and yet within him there was a love
fiercer than you or I can fathom. Luke,
the breadth and height and depth of God’s love is more than you or I can
imagine. God loves you enough to hang on
the cross for just you, I believe. He
dies so that each and every one of us might have the chance to be forgiven, to
be saved. There was a centurion there by
the cross who witnessed the death of Jesus, and he was moved as he heard Jesus
say, Father, I offer my spirit into your
hands. With those words life went
from him, and the centurion offered, to no one in particular, the confession
that Jesus was innocent. He then went on
to praise God.
The rest of the crowd, having spent
their time mocking Jesus and offering him nothing but hatred, returned to their
own homes beating themselves, perhaps not fully aware of all that had happened
but knowledgeable enough to know that it had been significant. Jesus’ friends, including some women from
Galilee, watched from a distance, sorrow holding firmly onto their hearts.
There on the cross, the dead body
of the Son of God, sent to save the world, hung for the world to see. There, on display, was evidence of the
totality of man’s power—to kill and destroy, to take life, even from those who
do not deserve it. Jesus Christ died on
the cross. Many would say it was because
the Roman Empire had sentenced him to death due to the convincing arguments of
the Jewish leaders. I know better. It was because he loved humanity enough to
suffer and die on our behalf, taking the weight of our sins upon his shoulders
and paying the cost that we could not afford to pay. He gave his life so that all who believe
might have life eternal.
He died for our hope, Luke.
Sincerely,
Theophilus
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