Unbelieving Distaste, Christian Joy

The Parting of the Ways

Christmas can have a certain sentimental pull for those who are perishing.  After all, only the most depraved cannot be moved at the sight and joy of a newborn baby.  Motherhood, fatherhood, birth, poverty, rejection–all of these pull at the sentiments of most men.  The world has an emotional attachment to Christmas.

Easter not so much.  Here is the divine commentary upon how non-Christians view Easter versus Christians:

For the word of the cross is folly to those who are perishing, but to us who are being saved it is the power of God.  . . . For Jews demand signs and Greeks seek wisdom, but we preach Christ crucified, a stumbling block to Jews and folly to Gentiles, but to those who are called, both Jews and Greeks, Christ the power of God and the wisdom of God.  (I Corinthians 1: 18-24)

Christ the power of God and the wisdom of God.  We Christians know intuitively to what the apostle refers.  First, amongst many other aspects the Cross displays the wisdom of God.  Long we lived in sin and darkness, condemned by Adam’s sin, a condemnation ratified by our own daily transgressions and lack of conformity to God’s holy law.  God’s wisdom is manifested in sending a holy human substitute, not born of Adam and without sin.  Angels could not have conceived such a plan of redemption, let alone carried it out. 

The cross also displays the power of God.  The power of creating out of nothing, sustaining, keeping, empowering one who was tempted in all points such as we are and yet remaining steadfast, although born bearing the fruit of sin (disease, hunger, exhaustion, and temptations of all kinds).  And on that terrible cross, in the hours of darkness whilst the wrath and vengeance of God against us was poured forth upon our penal substitute, the power of God also sustained him so that he withstood the most acute temptation of all: the temptation to doubt, to despair, to distrust, and to deny his heavenly Father. 

Therefore God highly exalted him and bestowed upon him a name which is above very name that at the name of Jesus all creatures in heaven and upon the earth and under the earth should bow. 

The cross: the wisdom of God and the power of God.  About these things Unbelief can know nothing.  For Unbelief the Cross ever remains a stumbling block and folly.  But to those who are called it is a radically different story.  At this juncture the ways part.  Two peoples separate and can never come together. 

For the called, Easter is like birth pangs: we experience terrible pain and grief arising from what we were and who we are; but in the morning, shouts of great joy.  Christ: the wisdom of God and the power of God.  Thanks be to God for his indescribable gift. 

>Sabbath Meditation #1

>One Holy Catholic Apostolic Church

Public worship on the Lord’s Day is the holiest activity of our day to day existence. It occurs on the one day in seven which the Lord God has commanded us to set apart (that is, institute as holy) from the other six days of the week. This command and institution has stood from the initial existence of time itself.
But ever since the resurrection of our Lord it has adopted a new significance that it did not represent before. The Sabbath—the day of rest and worship—of recreation and communion of the Lord’s people, together with the Lord—took on a universal significance. Our Lord was resurrected, and was therefore appointed the universal Lord over the heavens and the earth. He declared that all power in heaven and on earth, consequent of His resurrection, had been given to Him (Matthew 28:18). In being raised to the right hand of God all enemies were and are going to be placed under His feet (Hebrews 2:8).
As the Son of Man, He is Lord over the Sabbath. In rising, and being made the universal Lord, He necessarily made the Sabbath universal—an institution for all people, in all places. So today, on this holy Sabbath, we join with the saints before God universally. Our gathering is not just of one local congregation, small or large, a handful or thousands, as it may be. Our gathering is universal. We gather and commune as members of “One Holy Catholic Apostolic Church” as the Nicene Creed puts it.
We are gathered from every place on earth. We are gathered out of every social class, every race, every tongue, every clan, male and female, child and adult. We are gathered in one voice and one tongue—that of the Overword—the Word of the Living God. On this day, our resurrected Lord gathers us to the heavenly Jerusalem. In this one great congregation today will be gathered into the City of God not just our local fellowship or our immediate Christian brethren, but also myriads of angels, and the spirits of all righteous men made perfect, enrolled in heaven. Above all, we are gathered into the presence of God. Our Risen Lord summons us on this holy day, to the great universal heavenly convocation before the face of the Living God. (Hebrews 12: 22,23)
For twenty-four hours, as the earth rotates majestically, the songs of praise will be heard gradually spreading around the globe like one great antiphonal choir, each answering to each in song. “Glory be to God the Father, and to the Son and to the Holy Spirit” they will sing—and they will be answered as other congregations join, adding their amen.
But, not only do the voices raise to God and His Christ, God Himself actively greets His people. His Spirit this day will pour forth upon the earth, to comfort, to bind, to heal; to bring courage, faith and hope. Tears will be wiped away today. Burdens will be lifted. Hearts will be made light. Thousand this day will be converted out of darkness into light. The myriads of angels will be rejoicing over many lost sheep that will be found today. Just as the great antiphonal earthly choir answers praise with fresh and new praise around the world, so the Living God also answers His people, ministering to them in His grace and mercy.
As we gather for worship on this day, let us do so conscious that we are part of the universal congregation of the Lord, the general assembly and church of the first-born. This, too, is part of the fruit of His resurrection. Because He rose the church has become truly universal. Let us therefore be conscious as we worship of our joining with the universal congregation of the Lord, and let our prayers and thoughts be for our brethren everywhere that God might bless them and keep them, that He might make His face to shine upon them and be gracious unto them; that He might lift up the light of His countenance upon them, and give them peace.
New Zealand has a unique “position” with respect to the Sabbath Day. By providential arrangement of global time conventions New Zealand happens to commence the Sabbath activities first, ahead of all other nations. We, in this far flung outpost of the Kingdom of God, have been granted the privilege of commencing the worship and convocation of the universal church this holy day. Let us, then, truly lead our brethren and sisters in worship of the risen Lord. Let us know that for the next twenty-four hours antiphonal voices will be raised in echo and response. Above all, let us know that our Lord Himself will rise to greet us and be amongst us.

>Easter Poem

>For those of you who enjoy poetry and in view of the season, ContraCelsum is republishing this wonderfully ironic, yet hopeful piece.

THE DONKEY

When fishes flew and forests walked
And figs grew upon thorn,
Some moment when the moon was blood
Then surely I was born;

With monstrous head and sickening cry
And ears like errant wings,
The devil’s walking parody
On all four-footed things.

The tattered outlaw of the earth,
Of ancient crooked will;
Starve, scourge, deride me: I am dumb,
I keep my secret still.

Fools! For I also had my hour;
One far fierce hour and sweet:
There was a shout about my ears,
And palms before my feet.

G.K. Chesterton

>The Seventh and Final Word

>“Father, into Thy Hands I Commit My Spirit”: our Lord’s Seventh Word from the Cross

One of the most beautiful and encouraging epitaphs in Scripture is found in Genesis 25 where the death of Abraham is described. All believers who understand something of the Covenant have a desire to be patriarchs and matriarchs. We long to found a spiritual dynasty—a thousand generations of children, flowing forth from us, that will love the Lord, and will bring glory to Him in the church, in their allotted days upon the earth—even as the Lord has promised us.
Abraham, our father in the faith, is archetypical in this regard. He is the great patriarch. We read, “And these are all the years of Abraham’s life that he lived, one hundred and seventy-five years. And Abraham breathed his last and died in a ripe old age, an old man and satisfied with life; and he was gathered to his people.” (Genesis 25:7, 8)
It is a wonderful picture of the man called the “Friend of God”. It is a portrait of a man blessed by the Lord:—heir of the promises of God; with innumerable descendants to come bound to God by His holy promise; seeing the fulfilment of God’s promise in his son, Isaac; favoured with long days upon the earth; dying in ripe old age; satisfied with life, and being gathered to forbears who had gone into God’s presence already and await his coming. In a fallen world, under the curse of sin, what height of blessedness could one hope to achieve greater than our father, Abraham?
In comparison, our Saviour’s life stands in rude and bitter contrast:–short days upon earth that were filled with suffering and anguish; a life where even the wild animals were better tended and cared for than He; mocked, despised, and rejected; suffering the cursed death of the cross; without heirs or inheritance amongst the covenant people; completely deserted; cursed by God and man; torn apart; utterly broken —a stronger contrast with Abraham’s course could not be imagined.
Yet the two life histories, that of Abraham and the Messiah, are inextricably linked. Indeed we know that Abraham’s blessedness would not have ever transpired, were it not for the later life course of the Messiah. Abraham’s blessedness was brought about by our glorious Saviour’s cursedness. That is why Abraham looked forward, saw the day of the Christ and rejoiced.
Our Lord did not die in ripe old age. He did not die satisfied with life. But He did die. He died with a loud cry—His last word from the Cross. It was not a cry of anguish, but of faith, of hope, of love for His Father. It was also a cry of progress, of moving on—but more of that later.
“Father, into Thy hands I commit my Spirit.” This word, like all the other utterances of our Lord from the Cross, is an official word, full of significance and meaning. There is much more here than meets the eye. In the first place, this word comes as the last of the seven words. It immediately follows His loud, triumphant declaration, “It is finished”. It is over. All things, we are told, had been fulfilled. The Gospel accounts indicate that the seventh word came immediately after the sixth. The two are closely related. The seventh word can be uttered because all had finished. Therefore, this seventh word reflects not just an end of physical life, which is almost incidental, but a beginning.
As we have said before, the Father gave clear confirmation that it was both an end and a beginning by rending the curtain in the temple that barred the way to the Holy of Holies as Jesus uttered these words.
Moreover, this word is yet another quotation from the Psalter. As such it is not random. It evokes something particular and significant. It comes from Psalm 31, written by David; the fifth verse of which says, “Into Thy hands I commit my spirit”.
Our Lord would probably have uttered these words many times as a prayer in the course of His life. They were prescribed by the Rabbis as a short evening prayer, just before sleep. Pupils in synagogue schools, such as Jesus would have attended at Nazareth, were instructed to pray this prayer every evening. Every Israelite was encouraged to pray these words before lying down to sleep. The holy and faithful of Israel, Jesus included, would utter these words every evening as they retired for the night: “Into Thy hands I commit my spirit.”
In the Scriptural repertoire of Israel, then, these words were uttered as people lay down to take evening rest, before arising the next day to serve the Lord. They were not words of capitulation or departure; they were simply not used in that fashion. They were used as an expression of faith that the Lord would keep them while they slept—so that they might arise the next day, greet the Lord in the morning, and re-commence their service of Him.
This suggests that we err if we interpret the final word from our Lord while on the Cross as a capitulation to death, as a final utterance—a kind of death bed speech. We know that this is how the seventh word is most commonly understood. “Father, I die” is how we generally understand the seventh word, or “Father, I surrender to death” is how these words are most often interpreted. Yet, as we have said, that is not how these words were used both providentially and liturgically in Israel—and that would not have been how the Jewish hearers, including the watching disciples, would have understood this final utterance.
Moreover, the fact that these words amounted to a loud cry indicate that it was not a statement of capitulation, of giving in and giving up, but of the power and triumph of faith.
We also need to review the content of Psalm 31 itself. As we said earlier with respect to that terrible Cry of Dereliction, the quote from Psalm 22 evoked all the content of that Psalm. So, we should see that when Jesus quotes Psalm 31:5 as His final word upon earth before giving up His Spirit and dying, He is not using this quotation out of context. Rather His intent is to evoke the meaning of the Psalm itself and call up its true and highest application unto Himself.
Psalm 31 is a song of triumph, of faith, and of redemption, amidst suffering and oppression. It is a cry of praise to God Who has saved the human author, David and has brought him to a place of safety and deliverance.
Now, then, consider the opening stanzas of the Psalm, and think of Golgotha and how these word find their greatest fulfilment in the Messiah:

“In Thee, O Lord, I have taken refuge;
Let me never be ashamed;
In thy righteousness deliver me.
Incline Thine ear to me, rescue me quickly;
Be Thou to me a rock of strength,
A stronghold to save me.
For Thou art my rock and my fortress;
For Thy name’s sake Thou wilt lead me and guide me.
Thou wilt pull me out of the net which they have secretly laid for me;
For Thou art my strength.
Into Thy hands I commit my spirit;
Thou hast ransomed me, O Lord, God of truth.”

Consider carefully these words. In the context of Psalm 31 we are directed to see in Jesus final word from the Cross, an act of confession of faith in His Father as He passes through the first death. He is declaring that God is His strength, His stronghold, His rock, His fortress. He is proclaiming His belief that as He dies, His Father will lead Him and guide Him, will pull Him out of the net; and that God has ransomed Him. It is in this context that He says in a loud, confident voice, “Father, into Thy hands I commit my Spirit.”
It is clear that the heart and mind of Jesus has already moved on from Golgotha. He is anticipating the resurrection and all that follows. He believes that the love, power, and faithfulness of His Father will raise Him from the dead. It is a given, as we say.
Some time later, on Easter morning, when the women came to the tomb, two angels appeared to them. The women had come with the affairs of death in their hearts and pharmaceutics of death in their hands. (Incidentally, this is one of the most beautiful pictures of faithful service in all the Scripture.) The angels gently rebuked them—almost, one is tempted to think, with wry humour: “Why”, they wanted to know, “are you seeking the Living One amongst the dead?” It was a rhetorical question—almost, as we would say, in the vernacular: “Look, will you please get with the programme.”
They went on, “He is not here, [of course]! He is risen. Remember how He spoke to you while He was still in Galilee, saying that the Son of Man must be delivered into the hands of sinful men, and be crucified, and the third day rise again.” (Luke 23:5—7) They could also have added, “Remember His last word on the Cross. Did you not utter that same prayer when you lay down to sleep last night? And have you not risen with the dawn, to be busy about your Father’s work? So, of course, He too has risen to be about His Father’s business. Of course He is not here.”
So we come to the end of days upon earth of the Messiah. All the while we have been on holy ground while we have stood as spectators at Golgotha. Figuratively and spiritually we have had to remove our shoes, as our father, Moses was instructed to do on the mountain of the Lord. In a way, we have been interlopers. We have had no right to be here. Terrible and holy things have been transpiring between the Father and the Son that have kept us transfixed—indeed, they will do so for the rest of our days, upon the earth, and stretching on through eternity.
We have watched through the hours of daylight as the crucifixion began and we have heard His prayer to the Father that the crucifiers be not held immediately to account, for they have acted in ignorance. The time will come when they will know what they have done as His apostles proclaim the Gospel of the Cross throughout Jerusalem. A day of salvation will be offered to the murderers. But the day will turn to night if they do not repent and judgment will fall—as indeed it when the Roman legions fell upon Jerusalem in AD68-70. In this first word from the Cross, we see our Saviour amidst His sufferings still accepting the responsibility of Kingship and directing the affairs of His Kingdom. The faithfulness of our Saviour to His duties is both breathtaking and utterly convicting. Would that may even remotely approximate His nobility and glory!
As we have watched, we have witnessed one of the murderous thieves become converted. With our Saviour we have heard the mockeries and jeering. Our heart has shrivelled. But then we have seen one-who-mocked transformed. He moves from darkness to light. He professes faith in the Saviour. Our dear Lord, from amidst the most unimaginable extremity as He draws nearer to Hell, is comforted and encouraged with a new son of God being added to His Kingdom.
Then, we have heard Him dismiss His mother. It is His last act before He descends completely into Hell. Yes, it was gently and lovingly done. But within there is a steely determination because He is fixed upon His duty to be the brother of all His people, and to regard them as His mother, His brothers and His sisters. His dismissal of His mother is an act of love toward us. For you and for me, He does this. He makes Himself public property, as it were. Thank God that He is willing to be so.
Then the darkness has fallen. For three hours we have watched and waited. The dread and the horror are indescribable. None of us can understand or comprehend. Then we have heard His terrible cry. Never before, or since, was such a cry uttered in the hearing of a living creature. We understand that He has been forsaken for our sakes, that we might never, ever, ever be forsaken of God.
We sense that this terrible Cry of Dereliction is also a Cry of Grandeur, for although He has been utterly hated by the Father for our sakes He does not, will not let His Father go. He loves Him and will think nothing bad of Him. He will trust Him utterly.
Finally, it is over. Our Lord knows that now all things have been accomplished. He asks His Father for help, in that He is thirsty. He needs a drink that He can utter two final words. He gathers His strength, and cries out with a loud voice, “It is finished.” It is over. The darkness lifts.
Then, this final word, “Father, into Thy hands I commit my Spirit.” He dies. But this great word tells us how He dies. He dies in faith. He dies entrusting Himself to His heavenly Father. His times are now in the hands of His Father (Psalm 31:15). He looks to His Father for deliverance and vindication:

“Make They face to shine upon Thy servant;
Save me in Thy lovingkindness.
Let me not be put to shame, O Lord, for I call upon Thee;
Let the wicked be put to shame, let them be silent in Sheol.” (Psalm 31:16,17)

So we understand that the Saviour gave up the ghost at His own will and command, completely entrusting Himself to His Father. He died, therefore, as He had lived. He arose from the manger. He departed from being the homeless refugee in Galilee. He was striding past the Cross to the house of the Resurrection, to the hill of the Ascension, to the Enthronement and Session upon high, to the pouring forth of His Spirit at Pentecost, to the proclamation of the Gospel to all peoples, to the gathering of the nations, to the discipling of the world, to the subjugation of all His enemies, and to the Last Judgement. It is for these things that departs Golgotha; it is to these things that He entrusts His Spirit to His Father.

“Were you there when they crucified my Lord?”

Yes, we were there. As the years pass, we find that we were there, more than we ever thought or imagined. But because we were there, we have, like our Lord, been able to move on, to follow Him, and leave Golgotha. We have died with Him. We been buried with Him. We have also risen with Him. We have ascended with Him. We have received His Spirit. We reign with Him.
And, like our father, Abraham, we are privileged to work for Him and with Him all our days. And by His grace, we too like Abraham will end our years filled with days and satisfied with life. Has there ever been a people so honoured, so loved, so blessed?

To Him be the glory, forever and ever. Amen

These meditations on the Seven Words have been drawn from several sources, but most particularly from the great Klass Schilder Trilogy, in particular Christ Crucified which is a sequel to Christ in His Suffering and Christ on Trial.

>"It is Finished": the Sixth Word from the Cross

>“It is Finished”: our Lord’s Sixth Word from the Cross

What is history? That simple question covers a multitude of complexity, profundity, richness, and depth. In the end, the question touches upon everything that exists.

Fundamentally there have been two answers to the question. One answer has offered meaning to history outside of history itself. It has talked of a perfect ideal (god) beyond history, beyond mankind. This has ever been the province of the Greeks and of pagan thought. Ultimately, this world-view denies the importance or significance of history because it looks to something beyond history. But we live and breathe in a historical world. The Greek view ultimately destroys mankind because it destroys the milieu of humanity and the warp and woof of our existence.

The second answer looks to history itself to give meaning. It sees history as a canvass upon which the Living God has painted a picture of Himself and of His creatures. Within the global tide of human affairs upon the earth runs a stream which ultimately becomes a mighty rushing torrent embracing all mankind. That stream is the history of God saving His people—which ultimately expands to fill the whole earth.

In the whole course of human history, along the full traverse of the history of redemption—which is real history—stand utterances or events which are the pillars of all else that exists. As we come to the sixth word from the Cross, “It is finished” we are faced with such a word.

This word shapes all human history, all human existence. It gives more meaning to life than a thousand thousand works of art, books, or musical scores. It dwarfs the affairs of government. All else lies beneath, subject to its glorious light. In case you have not realised it, your life is utterly shaped by the sixth word from the Cross. Millions upon millions of Christian brethren and sisters throughout the whole Christian era have found this one word (in Greek it is one simple word) gives more meaning, more hope, light, joy, courage and triumph than any other.

If ever there was a word that shook the very foundations of the world, that cast down kingdoms, that raised up the poor and wretched of the earth, that liberated men from sin, that brought them from the dungeon of degraded despair, and that forever broke the bastions of human pride—it is this one word “tetelestai”—it is finished!

Small wonder, then, that our Saviour having gone to Hell in our place; having borne the full weight of guilt for all the sins of all His people for all time; having emerged from Hell with that cry of dereliction that finally accomplished all things to do with our redemption—small wonder, that He asks His Father for something to moisten His lips. He is about to make the utterance before God in the hearing of the angels, the Devil and man that will provide the foundation of everything else. He needs to make the utterance clearly, unambiguously, strongly. It is too important to mutter or whisper. He needs to drink in order to speak forth.

We note that Matthew and Mark tell us He shouted these final words in a loud voice. This utterance is not the word of despair or pain or frustration. It is a word of pronouncement. It is a word of declaration. In this sixth declaration, the Lord is our Hero, our Champion, our great Priest-King.

How we marvel at the carefulness of our Lord Messiah. He is acting in His official capacity as our High Priest. Every word has meaning. Nothing may be neglected. He does all things well. In order to do them well He needs help. He needs to moisten His lips so that He can speak clearly, so that God and man, angels and devils may hear. May hear, and be left in no doubt.

We have said that this sixth word is one of the most significant utterances of all history. We will return to that thought in due course. But first, let us consider the form and meaning of the word itself, then the audiences—that is, those to whom it was spoken. The tense in Greek is quite particular. It signifies the end of what had been a process. The tense indicates the terminal point of a journey, such that while the journey had ended, all the accomplishments of that journey would continue. We use a similar construction in English, for example, when we say, “the wedding day had come.” We imply a deliberate process which had led up to that final day—which in turn would shape everything afterwards. So with this tense used in “tetelestai”. Whatever the Lord had been going through, it had now finally and completely come to an end.

Secondly, the word itself indicates finality. It means to bring, or come to an end, to complete. “It has been finished!”

Next we need to consider, to whom is our Lord speaking? First, and most importantly, our Lord is speaking to His Father. His work as Messiah upon earth has come to an end. His course of suffering as our substitute those long years has been accomplished. It has ended. We cannot do better than recite the words of the Heidelberg Catechism: “That during His whole life, but especially at the end, Christ sustained in body and soul the anger of God against the sin of the whole human race.” That has now ended. It has been finished.

Yes, . . . .especially at the end. We have meditated upon His descent into Hell. Upon how He stayed true and did not sin. We have reflected upon how He bore our punishment, sustained by His love for His Father and for us. The full price had been paid. It is finished! It is over!

He speaks this Word with all the authority that God has granted Him. Notice He does not say, “I have finished”, but He speaks impersonally—“It is finished.” There is great significance in this. It takes us back to the eternal contracts that lay between the Father and the Son—contracts for our salvation.

So often our Lord during His public ministry, has spoken of the understandings, the arrangements, the terms of contract entered into by the Father and the Son. Note, for example, this wonderful language of the High Priestly prayer: “I glorified Thee upon the earth, having accomplished the work which Thou hast given Me to do. And now, glorify Thou Me together with Thyself, Father, with the glory which I ever had with Thee before the world was.” (John 17: 4, 5). This is the language of covenant, of binding arrangements, of terms and conditions, of mutual commitments, of agreements, of a divine pact!

Our Lord implicitly evokes all of that covenant’s terms between His Father and Himself when He says in a loud voice, “It is finished.” It has been done Father, as we agreed. Praise be!

Now, dear Christian: note this, and note it well! The Father does not contradict, but confirms. He gives two immediate “words” of amen: the darkness ends and the veil of the Temple preventing access to the Holy of Holies is ripped apart. God confirms that the terms of covenant for our salvation have been completely and perfectly fulfilled—that it is, indeed, finished.

Within three days, the Father will provide the third (and greatest) amen by raising Him from the dead.

In the second place, our Lord cries out to the Father in the hearing of the angels. The Psalms speak of the angels of the Lord encamping around those who fear God. All during His life, our Lord was specially and constantly ministered to by these holy messengers and servants of God. In the Garden of Gethsemane, in particular, Luke tells us that an angel from heaven appeared, strengthening Him in His agony of heart.

But while Scripture does not explicitly state, it is obvious that the angels had been directed away from Him on Golgotha. He was alone. It was all part of the road of dereliction and being forsaken of God.

Jesus was utterly confident of His ability to command the angels. Even when arrested, He rebuked Peter’s attempt to rescue Him, saying “Or do you think that I cannot appeal to My Father and He will at once put at My disposal more than twelve legions of angels?” (Luke 26:53) And who can forget the terrible power of these wonderful beings. In one night, just one angel had destroyed the army of Sennacherib and 185,000 died at his hand. Twelve legions, or 72,000 of these creatures, could destroy the planet. And, we add, would have destroyed the planet, if He had not first prayed, “Father, forgive . . .”

On Golgotha they had all been withdrawn. No longer could they look upon Him with love and favour. But now Jesus announces that it is over. Once again they might resume their ministry to Him, and join with Him in His triumphal procession as He is about to enter Paradise.

Thirdly, He speaks to His Father in the hearing of Satan. For a time during the hours of darkness He had been consigned to the dominion of the evil one, to the powers of Hell, to the despite of him who utterly hates all mankind, and in particular, the Son of Man. That serpent of old had bitten His heel. That bite brought with it a pain beyond our comprehension or experience.

Our Lord’s sixth word carries great meaning for the devils. In their hearing also He pronounces that it is over. They have not triumphed. Rather, He has triumphed over them. He has not joined with them in their despite, their despair, their hatred of God. The head of the serpent has been crushed. All that is evil in the world, all the works of the Devil, all the influence of the Prince of Darkness and the powers of the air will now be removed and destroyed as a consequence of Messiah’s pronouncement: “it is finished.”

Finally, He speaks in our hearing, for our benefit. It is for us principally and primarily that He has asked for the sour wine, that we might hear and witness what He says to the Father. For the Father sees and hears in secret. Our Lord might have spoken these words, “it is finished” in His heart to His Father. But no—these words are to be spoken out, publicly, in our hearing. Ever the Shepherd, ever concerned for the welfare of His beloved sheep, it is for our sake that He speaks out loudly.

Tetelestai! It is finished! What a comfort and consolation those words have been to the Church down through the centuries. How often we, along with countless Christians, have meditated upon them in our dark watches of the night. If there is one Greek word you should know, one Greek expression you should make it your business to understand, one Greek word that has become the sublimest word in all history and human language it is “tetelestai”, the sixth word from the Cross.

Man is born to sin as the sparks fly upwards. It is ever part of our existence to try to cover our sins, to make our own atonement for them. It is ever our temptation pridefully to seek to add to the work of our Saviour. Or, when the pendulum swings along the arc of sin, it is ever our want to despair and doubt that enough has been done, that our sin is truly covered, that we are washed clean and that our sin is utterly taken away in the sight of God.

But this sixth word cuts through it all. How often we find faith and hope in this word. I hear it spoken so clearly, powerfully, meaningfully, as if I were standing at this very moment at Golgotha. It is the sum of all my hope. It is the assuaging of all my doubt and fears. It enables me to sit clothed and in my right mind. It is to me more precious than life itself. Because of this one word, goodness and mercy will follow me all the days of my life and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.

His work of atonement has been completed. It is over. It is done. On His shoulders, as He walked through Hell, He carried the guilt of Adam’s first sin. He bore Abraham’s lies. He bore the guilt of David’s murders. And to my fathers’ sins, mine were added and heaped upon Him, and He bore them all. He stood before the bar of God’s justice and having stood there and having gone to Hell, He returned and said it had been finished. It had been completed. He wanted me to hear this word. He knew I needed to hear this word.

And so, I have been set free—and not me only, but all His people.

There are three great proclamations in Scripture of things being finished. All three are pillars or foundations of history and of our collective life. The first is found in Genesis 2:1: “thus the heavens and the earth were completed, and all their hosts.” Because creation was completed, God rested; so the Sabbath was established. Creation completed is the first pillar of history, of our lives.

The third great proclamation of things being finished is found in Revelation. The seventh angel pours out the seventh bowl and from the throne and temple comes a loud voice, declaring “It is done.” (Rev. 16:17) As a result, judgment falls upon Babylon, and we are invited to the marriage supper of the Lamb (Rev. 19:9) and the eternal Sabbath.

The beginning of history. The end of history. Between these two is the central pillar which upholds the bridge of history. The central pillar is the triumphant cry of our Saviour to the Father at the end of Golgotha: “It is finished.” It is indeed a word that shapes the entire course of mankind upon the earth.

It utterly shapes the life of the Church, of every believer. I say again, it is the most significant word that any man has uttered (or will utter) in all the long years of mankind upon the earth.

This is the undoubted Christian faith. Thus it was confessed by our forbears, in both formal confession and in hymn.

“. . . we justly say with the apostle Paul that we know nothing save Jesus Christ and Him crucified; we count all things but loss and refuse for the excellency of the knowledge of Christ Jesus our Lord, in whose wounds we find all manner of consolation. Neither is it necessary to seek or invent any other means of being reconciled to God than this only sacrifice, once offered, by which He hath perfected forever them that are sanctified.” (Belgic Confession)

“Hark the voice of love and mercy
Sounds aloud from Calvary;
See! It rends the rocks asunder
Shakes the earth, and veils the sky.
‘It is finished!’ ‘It is finished!’
‘It is finished!’ Hear the dying Saviour cry
Hear the dying Saviour cry!

“’It is finished!’ O what pleasure
Do these precious words afford;
Heavenly blessings without measure
Flow to us from Christ the Lord;
‘It is finished!’ ‘It is finished!’
‘It is finished!’ Saints the dying words record.
Saints the dying words record.”
Uncertain author

You too, dear Christian, mark it well, and enter into the Sabbath rest of our Lord. Let that great triumphant cry from Golgotha guard your heart in the dark watches of the night and never forsake you as long as you shall live.

>"I Thirst": The Fifth Word From the Cross

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“I Thirst”: our Lord’s Fifth Word from the Cross

Our Lord’s fifth word from the Cross marks a transition. Something has finished. Something different is beginning.

The passage of time is always significant in the Scripture. His coming into the world had been in the fullness of time—when everything was made ready. Jesus, Himself, spoke of His time during His messianic ministry—that it was not yet.

The apostles were always couching sermons and teaching in the frame of “In the past . . ., but now . . .” Consider the wonderful beginning to the Letter to the Hebrews: long ago, in the past, God spoke to the fathers in the prophets in many portions and in many ways, but in these last days, He has spoken to us in His Son . . .

In what were the last days of the Jewish kingdom we have been spoken to by God in His Son. He is the exact representation of God’s nature, and He upholds all things by the Word of His power. He ascended to this position after He had made purification for our sins.

Our desire is to reflect carefully upon the seven words God has spoken to us in His Son, while He was upon the Cross, while He was making purification for our sins.

We have said that each word is weighty and filled with deliberate meaning. Each utterance is an official pronouncement.

In order to grasp something of the significance of these words, we need to see each word in terms of the passage of time as it occurred on that dread Friday.

Yes, there is a passage of time at Golgotha that is meaningful and significant. Too often we view the crucifixion of our Lord as an undifferentiated single event.

Yet the gospel accounts are quite deliberate. They are careful to point out the hours and the passage of time. We read of the third hour, when the crucifixion began; the sixth hour when darkness fell upon the land; and the ninth hour which was when the darkness ended. The third hour was nine o’clock in the morning; the sixth hour was midday; and the ninth hour was three o’clock in the afternoon. The fact that the Gospels are so careful and deliberate to record these details tells us that these times and the passage of time is very significant during the crucifixion.

Thus we may say that at Golgotha on that fateful Friday there are really two blocks of time, three hours each. These two periods, were sharply divided—literally as different as night and day. Daylight attended the hours of nine in the morning until twelve midday. It was during these hours that Christ carried out His last official duties toward mankind generally, His people in particular, and, finally, toward His mother.

The last three hours—from midday to three in the afternoon—are hours of stygian darkness that convey all the watchers to the very edges of Hell itself. But our Saviour does not just draw near to the horrors of Hell. He enters Hell in those hours. But not just Hell itself. He is cast into the fartherest reaches of the pit of destruction, to its deepest most desperate extremities as the guilt of all the sins of all His people for all time are laid to His account.

The spectacle is so terrible that no man can look upon it and survive. We have been told that it is a terrifying thing to fall into the hands of the Living God (Hebrews 10:31). Moreover, the Apostle says that our God is a consuming fire (Hebrews 12:29). In those hours of darkness, our Lord was both terrified and consumed. He had fallen into in the hands of God in the sense spoken of in Hebrews; the wrath of God was upon Him, was being poured out upon Him; days of vengeance had come to Him and fallen upon Him. We believe no living man could have witnessed this and remained in sound mind.

Towards the end of those three most terrible hours that the creation has ever witnessed our Saviour cries out, “My God, My God why hast Thou forsaken Me?” We have spoken of how that cry conveyed the depths of His suffering—the despite of desolation, of being cut off from God and His blessing—only to face the opposite—His wrath and curse.

But we have also spoken of the wonderful victory implicit in that cry. He does not hold back or cease from loving His Father, from actively seeking Him, from clinging to Him, from trusting Him, from addressing Him as, “My God.” May we say this carefully and reverently—He does not hold back in those dreadful hours from loving His Father, while His Father execrated Him, cursed Him, and hated Him for our sakes.

How vast and deep must the love of God be for us! How supreme is the Saviour’s love for each one! We can begin to understand something of what Paul means when he prays that we might begin to know the unknowable: that we may be rooted and grounded in the love of Christ and that we may be able to comprehend the breadth and length and height and depth, and to know the love of Christ, which surpasses all knowledge! (Ephesians 3: 18,19)

In the final hours before the Cross, we find our Saviour’s characterisation of the extent of His love for us typically understated—and therefore all the more powerful and compelling. He had instructed His disciples to love one another. Then He gave a measure for love: “Greater love has no one than this, that one lay down his life for his friends.” (John 15:13) Then He added, “you are my friends, if you do what I command you.”

In those hours of darkness when He was hidden from us we understand something of the manner of His laying down His life for us—what it really meant to Him and what it cost Him. We have thought about what it meant to go to the extremities of Hell, to experience utter dereliction, and to be broken. So we come to understand something of how great His love is for us. He went to Hell for His friends, so that they may not have to go. Not only is it amazing that our Lord calls us His friends, but His love and passion for us went far beyond anything that we have ever been able to do for others!

During the days of the Old Covenant a mark of singular honour was bestowed upon Abraham, our father. He was called the Friend of God. Now the Messiah extends that honour to all His beloved people. “You are my friends . . . ” And He has proved it at Golgotha. Friend of God, am I. No-one can take that title of honour from me. None can remove it from you. Not death, not life, not angels, not principalities, not things present, not things to come . . . not any created thing shall be able to remove that title of honour bestowed upon you. His friendship proved and won not just by His dying for you, in your place, but the manner of that death. A death so terrible that no man could look upon it and live.

Towards the end of those three hours of impenetrable darkness, our Saviour “shows His quality.” He expresses His anguish to His still beloved Father. His suffering has not for one moment become mingled with unbelief. He is utterly broken, but He seeks God in love, need, and complete dependence.

And by the ninth hour it passes! We know this because John is careful to tell us: “after this, Jesus, knowing that all things had already been accomplished . . .” (John 19:28). It was at this time that Jesus delivered the fifth word from the Cross. The word is “I thirst”. This word is followed by the final two utterances, “It is finished” and “Father into Thy hands I commit my spirit.” The Gospels tell us that these three utterances were all delivered at around the ninth hour—in other words, close together. They were all spoken after all things had already been accomplished. Thus, we learn that the Cry of Dereliction is also a sign of triumph, of ultimate proof through suffering of the merits, glory, the faith, and holy worthiness of our Saviour. He has triumphed over Hell; He has continued to love God; He has remained spotless and sinless throughout the extremities of bearing sin for us.

At the time of the ninth hour, at the end of the darkness, with the Cry of Dereliction all things had been accomplished. It is over!

However, we find John’s record of the fifth word a little puzzling. In the first place, we should ask, To whom was it addressed? We believe it was a prayer to His Father. While the prayer was heard, and answered, through the instrumentality of man (which is so often the case in our prayers) we believe that at this hour of the Cross, our Lord had ceased dealing directly with His people. He was, rather, totally focussed upon His work as High Priest presenting the only atoning sacrifice that has ever been accepted by God. Therefore, it is to God He cries, “I thirst.” It is a prayer of need.

This prayer confirms the holiness of the Son of Man. He does not cease for a moment, even though He had just returned from the most terrible torment inflicted upon Him by His Father, to relate to God as His beloved Father, Whom He loves and trusts utterly, and upon Whom He completely depends.

Secondly, the prayer, “I thirst” does not seem to fit with the Gospel commentary with which it is introduced. We read again: “After this, Jesus, knowing that all things had already been accomplished, in order that the Scripture might be fulfilled, said, ‘I thirst.’” Our question is, How does this word relate to the accomplishment of all things and the fulfilment of the Scripture?—for it is very clear that John relates them.

We need to understand that while the battle has been won and our Saviour has triumphed He still has some last tasks to perform. He has to pronounce formally and officially that the battle is over, complete and finished. We will say more of this next time.

Secondly, He, as the forerunner of all His people, must also, like them, taste the first death. He has just tasted the second death, eternal death, and triumphed over it. He has been resurrected from it, as it were. Now He must taste the first death. His body must die, that He might be the first born from the dead of all of us so that He might have the pre-eminence.

This is the reason, we believe, that from the human perspective Christ died so quickly—though He had suffered an eternity of punishment. We know that crucifixion was normally a long, lingering death—often lasting days. But once He had emerged from Hell, having accomplished all things, having suffered an eternity for us, nothing further was left to do, except for His body to die.

But it is important that we all understand—we, the angels, and all other creatures, that this death of His body is not a mere giving up, an acquiescence. Rather He will lay down His life by His own volition and choice. He had been granted the authority to do that by the Father. In this fifth word from the Cross Jesus is gathering Himself for these last tasks so that the Scripture might be fulfilled and He might do all His duty. He is gathering His strength so that He might consign Himself to death.

Think again of these words: “I lay down My life for the sheep. For this reason the Father loves Me, because I lay down My life that I may take it again. No-one has taken it away from Me, but I lay it down on My own initiative. I have authority to lay it down, and I have authority to take it up again. This commandment I received from my Father.” (John 10:15—18)

You cannot read these words without being impressed by their emphatic, insistent tone. The Father loves the Son because He determined, He chose, He willed to lay down His life for the sheep. He is not a victim in the sense of having terrible things happen to Him, beyond His control, that He did not deserve. Sometimes Christians have missed this. They have tended to sentimentalise the Cross. “Poor Jesus. He did not deserve this. I shouldn’t have let it happen. I am to blame.” Thus, they guilt-manipulate themselves over the Cross, and they never experience its liberating power.

This is not the teaching of Scripture. Jesus is not a weak victim. He insists that He be sacrificed. He has been granted authority over this. He demands it. He controls it. He chooses it. His heavenly Father gives Him that right and privilege.

Only in this light does the Cross transform from a thing of terrible dread to something of great glory. For the Cross becomes a thing of insistent, demanding love. Long before you and I ever lived, our Saviour demanded, insisted on the right to die for us. Dare we say this: He counted it His great privilege to die for us, His friends—such is the extent, the depth, the height, the breadth of His love for you and me. Only in this light does the Cross become something truly liberating—something in which we can truly boast, and about which we can become proud—for it manifests the love of God and His Christ for us in a way that nothing else does. That which is so great that it is said to pass knowledge becomes both seen and known at Golgotha.

Now many of us spend our days in mourning and great poverty of spirit. We know our sinfulness and moral depravity. We can get so burdened by our daily self-experience. This ought not to be. Beyond all our wretchedness, greater than all our sin, is this fact—that the love of Christ for you is so deep that He would rather taste the most extreme anguishes of Hell than lose you from His presence and fellowship. You, with all the Church, are that precious to Him.

At the end of the ninth hour, Christ is passing from being the victim of sacrifice, to the Lord of glory. All things have already been accomplished, and He now, once more, assumes control. By His own authority He has laid down His life. By His own authority He begins to take it up again. He needs to fulfil the final obligations of the Scripture—He needs to present the sacrifice of His body. He needs to carry out literally the sacramental sign of “This is my body, broken for you . . .”

As one writer has put it, He will not accept death as a fate, but He will perform it as a deed. He will present His offering before the Father as our High Priest. Central to these last tasks is the duty to pronounce to all creation the realities of what has just happened and is about to happen.

To do this He must pronounce. He must speak forth. He must declare.

But His throat is parched. He is terribly weakened. He must will life in the body away. He needs help to perform these last official duties. So He cries out for help to His Father. “I thirst”. The soldiers’ drink was a ration of cheap, sour wine—vinegar—usually mixed with water and eggs. One of them puts some on a sponge and lifts it up so that His parched throat might be cleared and He might speak.

We note the contrast between the earlier offering of wine and myrrh before the crucifixion began—a concoction to drug and dull the pain. But He did not take it. He would enter into the full cup of suffering. Now the pangs of Hell are over, He has triumphed, and He seeks help to speak. So, now He accepts the sour wine. Now He gathers up His strength to cry out with a loud voice the last great two triumphant utterances from Golgotha. He will leave that terrible place triumphant and victorious.

We have been “with” Him, as it were, as we have witnessed and heard His utterances from the Cross. We have been taken through the hours of daylight and we have watched uncomprehending throughout the hours of darkness. But time has moved on. Now we sense the darkness lifting. We sense the worst is over. We sense the far off sound of the silver trumpet’s dawning call. Our hearts are lighter.

Truly, it has been darkest before the dawn. We will now wait eagerly to hear His last two words, for in them lie all our hope and faith.

>The Cry of Dereliction

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“My God, My God Why hast Thou Forsaken Me”: our Lord’s Fourth Word from the Cross

In our vocabulary-impoverished age we no longer often hear the word “derelict”. In an earlier age it was most often used to refer to buildings that were abandoned, forsaken, and broken down. At times it was used as a noun to refer to the homeless alcoholic—and referred to a person who was likewise abandoned, forsaken, and broken down.

The Church has called our Lord’s fourth word from the Cross, “My God, My God why has thou forsaken me” the Cry of Dereliction. It is an apt title, insofar as human language can be called apt when we are speaking of Golgotha—for we struggle to comprehend or describe what is now taking place. We acknowledge that when it comes to the Crucifixion of our Lord, we quickly reach the limits of our comprehension and understanding.

Yet the word “dereliction” is meaningful and helpful. It indicates that our Lord has indeed been abandoned and forsaken, and that He has been broken. Not merely abandoned by mankind. Not merely by the members of His table—those who had enjoyed closest covenant bound fellowship with Him. But, most terribly—abandoned by God, forsaken by Him, and consequently utterly, utterly broken.

In the first three hours of crucifixion, our Lord had uttered just three words—all to His fellow creatures. The first was a word of restraining grace, asking the Father to suspend judgement for the terrible thing that they were doing to His only begotten Son—until such time as they knew what they were doing and had done. He was giving an opportunity for His enemies to repent—and, praise God, we have indication from the book of Acts that some subsequently did repent of their terrible deeds that day (Acts 15:5).

The second word is to the hateful criminal who is subsequently converted. He repeatedly pants out his plea amidst his agony, “Jesus, remember me when you come into your Kingdom”. Eventually, Jesus responds and pants out His benediction to His new brother, “This day, you will be with me in Paradise.” That blessed word brings comfort to all believers, everywhere, in all generations. That word confirms beyond all doubt that salvation is of grace alone. Our brother-thief is utterly helpless, can do no good work, can perform no sacrifice, act, or religious ritual. He is outside the sacraments of Baptism and the Lord’s Supper. Yet our Saviour pronounces his salvation and inclusion in the Kingdom. It is the most vivid illustration in all of Scripture, in all of redemptive history, that salvation is by grace alone, through faith in our Lord Jesus.

We have said that the conversion of the thief brought our Lord solace and encouragement in those first three hours, for always His great love and desire upon earth was to gather His sheep. If the angels in heaven rejoice over the repentance of one sinner, how much more the Son of Man inwardly rejoiced in those desperate hours at finding this lost sheep and bringing him home.

Before the darkness fell, however, He had one last official duty to perform. He had to break all earthly ties with His mother so that when she saw Him again, she would no longer think of Him as her son, but she would believe in Him as her Lord and Saviour. She would no longer be known as the mother of our Lord so much as our beloved sister in Christ. All during His earthly ministry, His official duties had caused a separation between Him and His family. That separation is now complete and irrevocable. He abandons His mother—not, however, to dereliction, but to the loving care of one of His apostles. Even as takes upon Himself the official High Priestly duty of substituting Himself for all the people, in order to perform this work, He substitutes John for Himself.

He is on the verge of making atonement for His people. He will now commence His great High Priestly work. He has one more duty to perform before entering behind the veil away from the eyes of the watching congregation: He must fully assume the High Priesthood after the order of Melchizedek. That High Priestly order knows no human descent. Melchizedek, says Paul, was “without father, without mother, without genealogy, having neither beginning of days nor end of life, but made like the Son of God, he abides a priest perpetually.” (Hebrews 7:3).

Our Lord is entering fully into that priestly order. In Psalm 110 we are promised: “Thou has made him a priest forever, after the order of Melchizedek.” And so our Lord firmly cuts off his earthly descent. Now He severs descent from His mother. He is now without descent from father or mother. He is ready to assume the high priestly order of Melchizedek.

Once that severance is complete He enters fully upon His High Priestly work of sacrificing Himself in our behalf. The darkness falls. He goes to Hell. The darkness fell at noon and lasted three hours (the sixth hour to the ninth hour, Luke 23:44). During that time the veil of the temple—the curtain between the holy place and the Holy of Holies—was torn asunder. His people could now come freely into the presence of God. But let us think further about how this wonderful privilege was won.

Let us begin by asking, Why did darkness fall? In the first place, we see a connection with the Holy of Holies in the tabernacle. Before the face of God no man could come, except the High Priest once per year. For everyone else, the face of God was veiled and hidden. Sinners could not come near to the Holy One. The darkness at Golgotha is the ultimate fulfilment of the veil in the temple and all it represented. Our Lord is now being dealt with by God. He, as our High Priest, is dealing with God in our behalf; in these matters we have no place or part to play—although in them we have a most vital interest.

Further we sense that the darkness has something to do with the horror of what is transpiring. All the guilt of all the sins of all His people is being laid upon the Saviour. As the sin-bearer, He is being punished by God the Father. As the sin bearer, He is enduring the torments of Hell which in turn carry and execute the eternal wrath and hatred of God, the Judge of all the earth, upon sin and sinners.

No living man—none amongst us—can adequately grasp the depths of utter devastation, the extreme extent of suffering entailed. For we know that there are degrees of suffering and punishment in Hell. We believe that our Saviour suffered to the uttermost because of the enormity of guilt put to His account. He suffered more than any other before Him or after Him. The suffering was so extreme, so terrible, that the darkness graciously hides it from us for it is too terrible to look upon. Isaiah prophesies that His appearance was marred more than any man, and His form more than the sons of men. We believe this to be literally true on Golgotha. He was one from whom men hide their face—because the horror of the sight is too great to bear. The darkness spares the watchers, His sheep—it is a collective hiding of our faces. Had the disciples seen His face in those hours it would no doubt have driven them to insanity.

No living man has ever experienced forsakenness by God in any complete sense, apart from One. Even when God brings chastening judgements upon peoples and individuals, the sun still shines, food still sustains.

Let us try to express something of what was happening during those hours of darkness. Let us do so with fear and reverence, for the darkness is a warning not to intrude, nor to speculate. We believe that all that has been happening is summed up in the words of the cry of dereliction—which He utters towards the end of the three hours of being in Hell. Our Lord was, in every absolute sense of the word, forsaken by God.

In the Gospels it is one of the few sayings of our Lord that is recorded phonetically from the original Aramaic, and then translated into Greek (and ultimately, for us, into English). “Eloi Eloi, lama sabachthani”. This is deliberate. It helps to transfix these words in our hearts for all time. How often these words run through our minds as we meditate upon the Cross.

But, in addition, these words are a formulary. For Jesus is quoting the Scripture—and the deliberate citation in Aramaic is designed to reinforce that fact for the Church. It is wonderfully fitting that our Lord should quote Scripture at this time. Many of us have experienced depths of great suffering, and at such times, the only thing left oftentimes is to express those depths in the words of Scripture. Only the Scripture can convey our passion. That is why the Psalms are priceless. Jesus seeks to give expression to His anguish, and He takes hold of the words of Scripture, and utters the opening cry of Psalm 22.

Our Lord is taking this whole Psalm upon Him, not just the opening words. It is like announcing the text put before a congregation. His extreme weakness and the resulting breathlessness of crucifixion mean that He cannot quote more.

We can say safely that David’s cry of desolation and suffering is a foreshadowing, a forerunner of David’s greater Son. But the elements are there, in David’s experience, at least superficially. David complains that God has deserted him, does not answer him, does not deliver him. He laments that he has been given over to the ravages of the wicked, the evildoers are tearing him to shreds and his life is in tatters. Once he was close to God, once God heard and delivered him, but no longer. But yet he believes still in God and he vows that upon his deliverance (for God cannot break His Word) he will praise God in the midst of the Church.

We say again that David’s experience and lament, terrible though it be, is only a type, a pale reflection of what Our Lord is experiencing at Golgotha. In taking up the opening words of this psalm, our Lord is taking the whole psalm to Himself—the lament about not being heard, the complaint about being torn apart by the cruel despite of the wicked, the fact that God did not answer. All are there. And so, by implication, is the expression in the Psalm of faith in His Father that He will not be lost forever, and that He will be restored to the congregation of the Lord.

We cannot fathom the depths of His dereliction, nor the suffering that resulted from it. We do know, however, that to be in fellowship with God is the highest joy and greatest blessedness of mankind. Every believer has tasted something of that. We also know that our Lord throughout His life experienced that closeness and fellowship and it was His great joy and delight. He often spoke of it. His experience of God, His knowledge of God, His communion and closeness with His heavenly Father was throughout His life far, far greater than anything we have ever known. The Son loved the Father and the Father loved the Son.

Consider the words of our Lord at the raising of Lazarus: “Jesus raised His eyes, and said, ‘Father, I thank Thee that Thou heardest Me, and I knew that Thou hearest Me always’ . . . “ (John 11: 41,42). That statement illustrates the deep intimacy between the Father and His Christ.

Now the hour is come when God no longer hears Him. But Jesus does not cease from raising His eyes and praying in faith.

We will have more to say about this later, but we begin to understand that in those hours of darkness the Father has left the Son, but the Son does not leave the Father. He does not stop believing. He does not stop seeking. He does not stop crying out. There are two pictures in Scripture which go some way to helping us understand the significance of this.

The first occurs in Job. The extreme sufferings of that holy man are documented in Scripture and the point comes where his wife utters the counsel of Hell: “Job, curse God and die!” Job was rejected by God; his boast, his hope, his faith in God were nothing more than cruel mockeries. His wife catalogues the natural and ordinary response of a sinner in such circumstances. God has let you down. Curse Him. That is, God has rejected you. You reject Him! Get your own back!

As Jesus experiences the full dereliction of God forsaking Him, the full weight of divine vengeance upon the sin He now bears, He becomes utterly broken. But in this terrible hour He is also being tempted—like as we are—to retaliate in anger and unbelief. “Curse God, and die!” is Satan’s counsel.

The second picture occurs in the Garden of Eden after the Fall. Man had sinned, and yet God seeks for man, but man hides himself. Now at Golgotha, in the darkness, this is reversed. It is God Who has rejected the Man. It is God Who has hidden Himself from the Christ. But it is the Man Who seeks, Who will not let God go, Who continues to believe and hope, Who refuses to curse God and give up. He cries out to His Father.

Out of the great darkness, He comes to God, though God does not bid it. He is not summoned, but He believes in His Father, and He comes. He speaks to God, though God is silent and will not, cannot, answer. Yet. He continues to believe that He will be heard. He calls out in the darkness.

Satan wants Him to curse God and die. But He will not comply. Instead with a loud voice He cries out, “My God, My God, why hast thou forsaken Me?” He still believes. He still clings to God.

He loves His Father still. Adam hid. The Second Adam will not hide. He clings to God, though He is the bearer of Adam’s sin—and yes, of all his descendants.

What glory and triumph is conveyed in one small word in that Cry of Dereliction. It is the word, “my”. “You are My God. I will not let You go. I love You still. I believe in You. I believe in Your goodness. I believe that You are faithful to Your Word.” God has forsaken Him. God has let Him go. He is utterly spent and broken beyond recognition—for us.

But still He clings to His heavenly Father. As we contemplate this, the waves of emotion break out over us.

“Alas! and did my Saviour bleed,
And did my Sovereign die?
Would He devote that sacred head
For such a worm as I?

”Was it for crimes that I have done
He groaned upon the tree?
Amazing pity, grace unknown,
And love beyond degree!

“Well might the sun in darkness hide,
And shut his glories in,
When Christ the mighty Maker died
For man the creature’s sin.

“Thus might I hide my blushing face
While His dear cross appears;
Dissolve, my heart, in thankfulness!
And melt, mine eyes, to tears!”

>Woman, Behold Your Son

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“Woman, Behold your Son”: our Lord’s Third Word from the Cross

We now come to one of the more puzzling of the seven words spoken by our Lord as He was making atonement for our sin. Puzzling, not because we do not immediately understand the instruction given by Jesus to His mother, and to John, the apostle but because (dare we say it) the matter seems mundane amidst what it taking place. Accordingly, it seems out of place.

Yet we know immediately that this cannot be the case. There is nothing ordinary or mundane at Golgotha where the Son of Man is offering up His life as a ransom for our sins. We also know that Messiah is about His official duties in all that is happening here. In particular, He is engaged in His official duties as our great High Priest. So we need to think carefully, to catch the significance and moment of this third word.

We see a pattern emerging in these seven deliberate official words. The first three are spoken in the initial three hours of His crucifixion, between the hours of nine to twelve. Light is still shining and His sacrifice is being witnessed publicly, both by His sheep and His enemies. The three words are all spoken to or for men. The first is a prayer to the Father that He suspend His judgment upon those crucifying Him for a time. It is a prayer for His enemies—and, by implication, for all mankind. In interceding for His enemies, He fulfils one of the basic duties of a Priest—that of representing the needs of His people to God.

The second word is to the newly converted thief—one of His sheep, one now numbered amongst His beloved brethren. It is a word spoken to one of His elect, to a member of His body, the Church. As such, it is a word that thrills and comforts all believers, all His children, everywhere, for all time. It is a word which resonates in our own souls. We cannot but see ourselves represented on that thief’s cross—he is a type of each of us. Once we cursed and mocked the Saviour. Once we were far off. Now we have been brought near. That word of grace, “This day you will be with me in Paradise” comforts our mourning and afflicted hearts.

As the day of our own death inevitably draws nearer, that second word becomes more personal, more meaningful, more precious. We hear the echo of our Lord’s word to our brother-thief in our own hearts, and we are comforted, and our faith is strengthened. In the day of our death, we will be with Him in Paradise.

The third word to John and Mary narrows the audience down still further to His own immediate family. It is an intensely personal word—almost, we would think, a private word, one which it is not our business to know or hear. Its official significance is not immediately apparent.

It is the last word spoken to mankind from the Cross before the darkness. The remaining four words are all exchanges between Messiah and His heavenly Father, spoken amidst the darkness—or when all is accomplished and the temple curtain has been rent. To these words we will come in due course.

We wonder about this instruction to Mary and John. Surely it is something that Jesus would have arranged before His Passion. He clearly knew of His forthcoming death. He planned for it. He knew that the hour was coming when the sword spoken of in prophecy by Simeon to Mary would soon pierce her heart. John was the disciple whom Jesus loved. Surely our Lord would have taken John aside before this and privately laid upon him the duty He now enjoins from the Cross. Surely He would have “put His affairs in order”, as it were, before now.

Instead we should see in this instruction to Mary and John something of great moment and significance. It is no accident that this instruction and arrangement is being made now—at this precise hour, just before darkness falls, and He enters properly and fully into Hell.

There are four women particularly close to our Lord at the Cross. There is Mary, His mother. There is the mother of the sons of Zebedee (James and John, the disciples) and her name is Salome. (Matthew 27:56 compared with Mark 15:40). There is Mary Magdalene. And there is Mary, the wife of Clopas, the mother of James the Less and Joses. John tells us that Mary’s sister was also there (John 19:25)—and from that we deduce that John’s mother, Salome was also Mary’s sister. John and Jesus were cousins, and Salome was Jesus’ aunt.

(Early church historians also tell us that Clopas was the brother of Joseph—the father of Jesus—so that Mary the wife of Clopas, was also Jesus’ aunt by marriage. It is assumed that Joseph, Jesus’ father, had died by this time and that His mother, Mary was a widow.)

Grace had penetrated deeply into the extended family of Jesus—a sign of things to come when the Holy Spirit would be poured out on all flesh. One may say the extended earthly family of Jesus is before Him at Calvary. Equally startling is the presence of Mary Magdalene, the former prostitute, who seems to have been adopted into His family circle. Grace is removing sin and restoring the unity and harmony of Eden. These women, collectively, stand as a kind of prophetic symbol of what is about to happen as the Spirit is poured forth upon all peoples and nations.

But we get ahead of ourselves. There is work to be done—official work. And our Lord, ever obedient, ever subject to the Law, ever working for His Father and for His Kingdom has one last official duty to perform before He descends fully into Hell. He beholds John and His mother, Mary standing before Him and He says, “Woman, behold your son,” and to John, He says, “Behold, your mother!” From that hour, we are told, John took Mary into his own household.

Honour your father and your mother, says the commandment. It is our first and highest duty to our fellow creature—and through this gateway all our duties to our fellow man stretch before us. Jesus, our Lord, will not depart this life without a final act of obedience with respect to mankind. He will keep fully and utterly His duty to the Law. He will honour His mother!

We cannot but marvel that midst all His suffering, His anguish of body and soul, He yet loves His Father and His Father’s law, and He loves His own.

But there is more going on here. We are struck by His address to Mary as, “Woman.” It is not a term of filial love, but it is a courteous respectful term, corresponding to our “lady”. Jesus had used this word before, at the wedding in Cana—and at that interchange it is clear that He was separating Himself from His mother to fulfil His public work. “Woman, what do I have to do with you? My hour has not yet come.” (John 2:4)

So here, at Calvary. He is taking leave of Mary as His mother. He will no longer be her son; she no longer His mother. For when He arises from the dead and ascends to His Father, all His Church, all His people, all His sheep will have claim upon Him and He will represent them all before His Father. With this third word, Jesus is breaking down, or deconstructing finally His earthly family, that He might reconstruct them within the Church.

It is significant, we believe, that after this formal instruction we read only once more of Mary in the sacred record. It is found in Acts 1:14 where she is in an upper room in Jerusalem where 120 persons were gathered in the company of the apostles. Mary and her other sons are there, as part of the gathering. Mary and her sons are now members of the Church, of the new Israel, and Mary sits under the authority of the apostles. Her official duties as the mother of our Lord have ended; she has become a simple member of the Church.

She will gather with all the believers and with them will continually devote herself to the apostles teaching, to fellowship, to the breaking of bread and to prayer. (Acts 2:42)

During His ministry, our Lord had indicated that this would be the case. His earthly family would be deconstructed, and then reconstructed into a new relationship with Him. This new relationship was profoundly different from what they had known as a family in Nazareth. During His earthly ministry His brothers had not believed in Him (John 7:5). At one point when they and His mother came to see Him, He “rebuffed” them by asking: “Who is My mother and who are My brothers?” Then He stretched out His hands to His followers, His disciples and said, “Behold, My mother and My brothers.” (Matthew 12:47—50)

In a sense Jesus was rejecting His family, as His family! In order for them to be saved, they had to give Him up as son and brother, and come to accept Him and believe in Him as Messiah, as their Lord, and their Saviour. His family, if they were to remain in the Kingdom of God had to change radically their views of Him. They could know Him after the flesh no longer.

This must have been more difficult for Mary than any other. Her whole being would have cried out to her that this One was part of her, and to her belonged the respect, devotion, care, honour that all parents have a right to expect from their children. What is the instinctive reaction of parents when children are dismissive toward them? Because it is so contrary to nature, and so inconsistent with the Fifth Commandment, we bridle. And so we should.

But the case of the Messiah is special, unique. He loves His own unto the end, and that includes His mother and brothers. But in order to save Mary, He must distance Himself from her, so that she can come to Him in a new relationship, in humble faith and submission, not as her son, but as her Lord.

All this is before us at Calvary. It is His last official word to the Church, before darkness falls and He descends into Hell. It is both a personal word, and a public word. It is significant for our sister, Mary and significant for each one of us.

In the first place, our Lord even amidst the terrible agonies of making atonement is still determined to minister to His sheep. He will settle this last outstanding piece of business. Secondly, we have already observed how He speaks to Mary respectfully, but not as His mother. He is breaking that relationship for all time, for her sake and our sakes. “Woman, behold your son.” Thirdly, He speaks imperially. He gives a firm command. From now on, woman, you will regard John as your son, not Me. John, from this point on, you will adopt Mary as your mother. I am leaving you, and you will know Me after the flesh no longer.

This is the way it will be. And why is this for Mary’s sake? So that she can stop regarding Him as her son, and come to believe in Him as her Lord, her Saviour, her High Priest—so that she can believe in Him as the only one given by God that she might be saved. So that she will give up any lingering personal claims upon Him—and see Him, instead, as the Saviour of the world.

And why for our sake? That we would know for ever absolutely and certainly that the Kingdom of God is not of blood, but of faith. That we would know that our sister Mary has no more claim upon Him than each of us does. That we would know for certain that we are His mothers, His brothers, His sisters. We are His, and He is ours.

It is His last word to mankind before He descends into hell. Do not boast of Abraham as your father. Do not take comfort from a long lineage of faithful fathers and mothers before you in the church. Do not claim blood or racial privilege.

There is a paradox here. Flesh and blood is important in God’s Kingdom. The covenant of grace flows down through family lines. “I will be a God to you and to your children after you.” God’s great promise is to us and to our children—and it is one of the most beautiful and gracious promises in the whole Bible. In grateful faith and hope in this promise, we baptize our children, even as our covenant forbears circumcised their sons.

But unbelief is ever ready to deflect our hope and gaze away from God and His promises to the creature and the flesh. This last word to mankind from the Cross, to His mother, breaks asunder the hopes and claims of the flesh, and directs us instead to Christ and His work. If Mary could not claim special privilege, no-one can. Christ publicly breaks up that special relationship, so that none may hope in the flesh any longer, but will look only to Him and His saving work in our behalf.

We cannot leave this third word, without reflecting with great sadness upon the terrible aberration that has happened within some circles of raising Mary up into a special place. It is as if many have shut their ears to our Lord’s word from the Cross. It is not by chance that it is precisely amongst those who do not see final and complete satisfaction in our Lord’s sacrifice for sin at Calvary that we find the false reconstruction of Mary into a position of prominence.

Paul commands us to boast in the Cross alone. Blood ties have no place at Calvary. Blood ties have no longer any claim upon Him. The flesh has no coin, no currency. He is the Saviour of the World. By faith, not by flesh, we become His father, His mother, His brother, His sister. The word, “Woman, behold your son” contains an admonition and warning to all—but at the same time, they are words of blessed hope and promise to all members of His true family.

>This Day You Will Be With Me in Paradise

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“This Day You Will be With Me in Paradise”: our Lord’s Second Word from the Cross

As we come to our Saviour’s second utterance from the Cross, we remind ourselves that we are on holy ground, amidst the sea of our wickedness. We acknowledge that we have no right to be here. We are conscious that momentous events are happening—holy transactions between the Father and the Son—that are not of our making or design. Human artifice has no place here.

Into this Holy of all Holies we are not permitted to look. Yet during the transactions of this great sacrifice that will become the atonement for our sin and which will turn away God’s wrath from us, we have been granted glimpses, pale reflections, to help us understand, for the encouragement of our faith. But let us not imagine we are doing anything else than seeing the mere fringe of His garment as we meditate upon our Saviour’s words from the Cross.

Each word, then, is for our benefit. Each word instructs us. Each has its own contribution of encouragement.

“This day you will be with me in Paradise.” The second word is spoken to one of the criminals crucified with Him. It is an utterance of sublime grace which has given hope to every repentant sinner from that time onwards. It gives hope to me today.

We are not told why two criminals were crucified with Him. We know that it was an act of prophetic fulfilment, for Isaiah had said that He would be numbered amongst the transgressors. It is possible that Pilate used the occasion to express once again his cynical hatred and despite of the Jews. He had determined that he would crucify their pathetic King (Whom he knew did not deserve to die) amidst his typical “subjects”. The criminals stand forth as a public statement of Pilate’s estimate of the Jewish people. Thus he insists that the placard, “King of the Jews” remains over Jesus.

When Jesus is lifted up to die we hear a loud outpouring of jeering and mockery. Those passing by, the onlookers, the chief priests, the scribes, and the soldiers all spat out their fierce hatred of Him. Even the two thieves crucified with Him joined in with this public humiliation and execration. (Matthew 27: 44; Mark 15:32)

We hang our heads at the shame. They are mocking Him Whom we love. But we also know that they serve a purpose—these hateful scorners—a redemptive purpose! For Christ is now entering the horrors and desolation of Hell. He is now entering the realm of complete forsakenness that comes from God, His Father, utterly cursing the Son of man in our place. He must taste completely the pains of Hell for us.

There is laughter in Hell. Isaiah tells us of the bitter mockery in Hell as the king of Babylon is brought down: “Sheol from beneath is excited over you to meet you when you come; it arouses for you the spirits of the dead, all the leaders of the earth; it raises all the kings of the nations from their thrones. They will respond and say to you, ‘Even you have been made weak as we; you have become like us.’” (Isaiah 14: 9—11) The citizens of Hell rejoice over others made like them. The joy of Hell is always a cruel hateful mockery.

As they mock and revile, as they jeer and insult, our Lord is hearing the welcoming chorus of Hell.

How utterly isolated and alone He is! He is now outside Zion, outside the gate, outside the Law—removed from its protections. He is now beyond the Covenant, under its curse. There is no mutual bond of commitment, no promises, no divine oaths to which He can appeal to His Father for mercy. The language of, “Lord hast Thou not said . . .” or “Lord, remember Thy promises . . . “ or “Lord, remember the oath which You swore unto Abraham, Isaac and Jacob,” has no relevance, meaning or application for Him now.

But at another and deeper level the Father loves Him still. This is the “Deep Magic” which we cannot comprehend. Our Father brings Him comfort and consolation and encouragement, even as He enters Hell. It is the greatest comfort and deepest consolation that can come to our Lord, than anything else, apart from a word of approbation from the Father—which will not, which cannot, come in these hours.

The Spirit blows where He wills, and unseen, completely unexpected, a dying sinner is born again. The thieves had been joining the hellish chorus, one abused Him with bitter sarcasm: “Are you not the Messiah? Save yourself and us.” (Luke 23:39).

The other thief, who had been joining in the mockery, falls silent. Then, suddenly, he separates from the chorus of Hell and stands against it, and takes his stand with the Messiah. To Hell’s ambassador, which a few moments ago he also was, he says: “Do you not even fear God, since you are under the same sentence of condemnation? And we indeed justly, for we are receiving what we deserve for our deeds; but this man has done nothing wrong.”

But to the Lord, he says, “Jesus, remember me when You come in Your kingdom.” Miraculously, a stony heart, a heart of Hell, has been transformed into a heart of flesh. Jesus does not reply immediately. The original language indicates that the thief cried repeatedly to our Lord, before Jesus answered.

Finally, in response, Jesus utters these wonderful words, “Truly I say to you, today you shall be with me in Paradise.”

We cannot pass by without at least observing some remarkable things in this transformation and transaction. Firstly, remember the name, Jesus means “Saviour”. “You will call His name, Jesus, for He will save His people from their sins.” The once wretched thief (now our beloved brother in the Lord), takes that name of our Lord upon his lips to express his plea and need—salvation from his sin.

Secondly, it is a prayer of abject humility. He asks that our Lord might have regard for Him—that there might be room in His heart and mind for himself.

Further, it is a prayer of the most astonishing faith in all history. He confesses Jesus to be the King. Here is our Lord, beyond the Law, under the curse of God, dying upon a Cross, utterly helpless, without hope and without God in the world. The air is filled with the sound of imprecation, of mockery and of spitting. Yet the thief speaks of Him as the King and asks that he might have a part in His Kingdom.

Of Jesus’ response, much could be said, but three things stand out. Marvel, firstly, that our Lord does not hold back from taking upon His lips the formula that reflects the affirmation of the Covenant. Truly. Amen. All that God has said is true: therefore, I can speak with confidence and a sure certainty. God is faithful.

Jesus does not sin upon the Cross. He does not cease to believe in His heavenly Father as His Father. He does not doubt. It is now the third hour of crucifixion, but His faith in God does not fail—although all His experience now tells Him that God has stopped believing in Him. But He does not accept that. He believes in the “Deep Magic”—that though He is under the curse of the Covenant, yet He still believes, He has faith that God will not lie and that He can still speak as if the terms still applied, and that His Word carries complete authority in heaven and earth. His language is the language of faith: “Truly . . .”

Secondly, we are arrested by the word that Jesus uses for Heaven. It is not often used in Scripture—Paradise—and all that it conveys stands in the most graphic contrast to what was being experienced at that time. Paradise! “Paradise” alludes to the Garden of Eden, to the world of creation before sin, to perfection, to the hour when the Lord looked at all He had made and pronounced that it was “very good.”

Jesus has chosen this word deliberately. It is His affirmation of faith that the work He is now doing will result in the restoration of all things—and the first fruits will be tasted this very day.

Finally, the significance of the phrase “with me” hits us. “Today you will be with Me in Paradise”. This is the language of a priest. A priest, we are told, can only be appointed by God. He is appointed to come into the very presence of God, as the representative of the people. He is one of them. The priest comes into God’s presence to appear before God’s face, bringing his people with him. The identity of the priest with the people he represents is constitutive of priesthood. “For every high priest taken from among men is appointed on behalf of men in things pertaining to God. (Hebrews 5:1). He can deal gently with the ignorant and the misguided since he himself is also beset with weakness. To the dying repentant thief, Jesus affirms His solidarity—you are of Me, you will be with Me. When I present my sacrifice for sin before My Father, you will be with Me. I will be representing you, your Advocate before my Heavenly Father and your Heavenly Father. “This day, you will be with me as I come to the Father. . .”

I spoke a few moments ago about comfort and consolation to the heart of our Saviour as He entered Hell—and to this theme we must now return. We know that one of the sustaining supports of our Saviour upon the Cross was the prospect of joy that lay before Him. It helped Him endure the sufferings of Calvary and despise its shame. But this joy is inextricably connected to Him being the author and perfector of our faith (Hebrews 12: 2). It was the prospect of redemption, of delivering those beloved-of-the-Father from sin and presenting them to Him, holy and complete, that filled His heart with joy.

The extent to which this motivated and encouraged our Saviour cannot be exaggerated. We see glimpses of it in the Gospels. Recall the scene at the well of Sychar. Jesus is wearied from travel and sinks gratefully down at the well to rest, while the disciples go into the town to buy food. They had been walking for several days. It is mid-afternoon. He is exhausted. A woman approaches and He asks for a drink. A conversation ensues, which results in the woman believing and returning to the town to announce that she had met the Messiah, and summoning people to Him.

The disciples meanwhile had returned and they were begging Jesus to take sustenance. But Jesus said, “I don’t need food any more. I have had something to eat. I have food that you don’t know about” He was now vibrant and alive; the tiredness had gone. The disciples were puzzled. Where had the food come from? Did someone bring it while they were away?

Then Jesus told them what had revived Him and filled Him again with vibrancy and energy: “My food is to do the will of Him who sent me, and to accomplish His work. . . . Behold, I say to you, lift up your eyes, and look on the fields, that they are white for harvest.” (John 4) He was thrilled to the core of His being about reaping the fruit of salvation from that Samaritan town. It was the work for which He had been sent. It was the work of His Father. If the angels in heaven rejoice over one sinner that repents, how much more did the heart of our Saviour rejoice over that beloved Samaritan woman, once lost, now found.

Now, at the hour of death, against all human reason and wisdom, a sinner repents. “Jesus, remember me . . .” The Saviour is harvesting, even upon the Cross. Our Father grants the Son of Man such food and sustenance in His hour of need that is beyond all earthly comfort. It is a sign, an indication, that redemption is being accomplished, and that God’s benediction, “This is my beloved Son in Whom I am well pleased,” still holds.

We have commented upon the improbability of that conversion: how the transformation from hellish darkness to heavenly light happened so quickly, with means apparently so inadequate and weak. We realise that we, as well as the Saviour, are being given a sign. Our memories return to those words of Jesus uttered in John 10—words that have a ring of such flat, emphatic, declarative certainty about them that the only adequate response commanded is loud silence. Let the words echo through the ages.

“I am the good shepherd; and I know My own, and My own know Me,” (Yes, I know you, my beloved co-crucified. I have seen you from afar. And now, as you die, you recognize me, you know me) “even as the Father knows Me and I know the Father; and I lay down My life for the sheep. . . . . I know my sheep, and they follow Me; and I give eternal life to them; and they shall never perish, and no one shall snatch them out of My hand. (You are mine. Today you will be with me forever.) My Father, who has given them to Me, is greater than all; and no one is able to snatch them out of the Father’s hand. I and the Father are one.”

The Father was giving a precious sheep to the Good Shepherd as He hung on the Cross. But the mode of this conversion is a sign of what will characterize the Kingdom of God, under the new Covenant. There is no power in heaven or upon earth that can or will thwart that harvest. Nothing will ever stop the sheep whom He knows from coming to Him.

Are the means of grace in our day weak? Not so weak as at Golgotha. Is the message we hear mumbled from so many pulpits today unclear? Not nearly as murky and confused and obscured as that day. Is unbelief strong and the hatred of God today like an adamant fortress of Hell? Not as implacable as that day.

For all time, the conversion of the thief upon the cross, serves as a beacon light illustrating without peer, the words of our Lord, “Everyone whom the Father has given me will come to me. And I will never cast out anyone who comes to me.” It is a sign of what will characterise the Kingdom of our Lord.

Even so, Lord. Come! Visit us with Thy salvation. Come quickly.

>Father, Forgive Them

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“Father, Forgive Them”: our Lord’s First Word from the Cross

Sinai is one of the most barren and inhospitable places upon the earth. Its desert-like wildness is fitting for the appearance of the Living God to Moses—its barrenness bespeaks its separation, its removal from the corruption wrought by man. The awe of the mountain seems to evoke the power and the grandeur of God. If the Psalmist lifted his eyes to the hills, for from them came his help, then at Sinai it was easy to believe that one was in the presence of the Living God. So our father, Moses was commanded at Sinai to take off the sandals from his feet, because there he was in the presence of God; the place where he was standing was holy ground.

But Golgotha is another story. A place not of separation from man and his evil deeds, but of execution, of blood, of curses, of noisome babble, of mockery and of hatred. A Christian cannot approach Golgotha without a sense of horror and loathing. We understand thereby that we are reflecting, albeit in pale shades, the agony of our Lord in Gethsemane.

For at Golgotha all the sins of the Covenant people of all ages are present—heaped up, pressed down, gathered together, running over—they are all here—and the place reeks of wretchedness and vileness. I am there, and I wish I were not. Golgotha is anything but holy ground.

But in another sense on that fateful Passover, Golgotha was the holiest place upon the earth. A work was taking place that involved transactions between the Lord God Almighty and His beloved Son, Christ Jesus our Lord. Transactions in which we have the most vital interest. They are on our behalf, yet we play no part in them. We are mere spectators. We have no right to be here. We are on holy ground—the very Holy of Holies. In that sense we approach Golgotha with the deepest awe and reverence and fear.

While on the Cross, Jesus utters seven words (or sayings). They are sayings spoken amidst great suffering—every one terse and urgent. Some are addressed to men, others to God—but all are for our benefit. We hear the command out of heaven: “This is my beloved Son, hear ye Him!” and we understand that our Lord is commanding us to lay aside our horror and revulsion of Golgotha and to hear, understand and believe each of these words.

The first of these words is found in Luke 23:34—“Father forgive them; for they do not know what they are doing.” For many long generations the Church has gloried in this prayer. It shows the magnificence of our Saviour. It demonstrates, yet again, how He kept the Law all His days and was without sin. It shows His mercy and kindness to all. It is the most pointed and perfect example of turning the other cheek. He provides for His people a model of how to speak and act at the place of suffering or martyrdom. It is not without significance that the first martyr of the new Covenant, Stephen, takes these words upon his lips as he dies (“Lord do not hold this sin against them!” Acts 7:60) proving that the Spirit of the Lord Jesus had indeed fallen upon the Church in great power.

All of these things are true—vitally so—yet we must first of all see this utterance in the context of Calvary before we extrapolate it out into general principles of Christian behaviour or praxis. What does this saying tell us about the “business”, the transactions that were taking place between the Messiah and His Heavenly Father?

For whom is Christ praying? Clearly, He is praying for His executioners, those who had hammered in the nails and lifted up the Cross and who were carrying out the sentence of crucifixion. But, more than that. These men were mere agents, soldiers, under orders and command. They were carrying out the commands and sentence of the Sanhedrin (the old Covenant high court) and of Herod and Pilate (the Gentile overlords). As Peter was later to put it: “For truly in this city there were gathered together against Thy holy Servant Jesus, whom Thou didst anoint, both Herod and Pontius Pilate along with the Gentiles and the peoples of Israel.” (Acts 4:27) So, on the Cross our Lord uttered a prayer for forgiveness firstly for Pilate, Ananias, Herod and all their co-conspirators.

How can this be? Does it make sense? How can we understand this word? The striking thing is that judgement was not removed from Israel for this most terrible of deeds. The Judge of the heavens and the earth did indeed hold this monstrous sin to Israel’s account.

Had not John the Baptist warned at the very beginning of the days of Messiah that the axe was already laid at the root? (Luke 3:9) Had not Jesus just a few days previous to Golgotha emphatically stated that the house of Israel was to be left desolate and that the house of God’s presence was to be utterly destroyed. Further, just a few moments before uttering this first word on the Cross, our Lord had turned upon the weeping women and sternly warned them: “Daughters of Jerusalem, stop weeping for Me, but weep for yourselves and your children. For behold, the days are coming when they will say, ‘Blessed are the barren, and the wombs that never bore, and the breasts that never nursed.’ Then they will begin ‘to say to the mountains, “Fall on us” and to the hills, “Cover us” for if they do these things in the green tree, what will happen in the dry.” (Luke 23:28—31)

No remission of sin there! No expiation upon Israel in those words! No forgiveness offered in that terrible warning.

Nor did His apostles, who spoke in the power of His Spirit, draw back from laying the charge and indictment for His death upon Israel. Peter later thundered in the temple precincts to the Sanhedrin, “But you disowned the Holy and Righteous One, and asked for a murderer to be granted to you, but put to death the Prince of life.” (Acts 3: 14,15)

Reflect also upon Stephen who was called of God to proclaim the writ of indictment and pronounce condemnation to the Sanhedrin for their actions: “You men who are stiffnecked and uncircumcised in heart and ears are always resisting the Holy Spirit; you are doing just as your fathers did. Which one of the prophets did your fathers not persecute? And they killed those who had previously announced the coming of the Righteous One, whose betrayers and murderers you have now become.” (Acts 7: 51—52) Clearly, Stephen was laying the actions of Golgotha to their account.

Had the Apostles not heard Jesus’ prayer for forgiveness for the act of crucifixion on the Cross? Inconceivable!

Finally, we know that God’s terrible judgment did fall upon Israel in AD 70, some forty years later—indeed it was the last days for Israel of old.

Was, then, Jesus prayer, “Father, forgive them; for they do not know what they are doing,” not heard by His heavenly Father? Inconceivable! Was His prayer not according to His Father’s will? Impossible!

The solution lies in the Greek word used in the original. The word used can mean, to delay judgement, not to put it into effect immediately, or to hold off until a future time, to overlook for the present. It can also mean “to allow” or “to permit.” Paul uses this same word to describe God’s forbearance in “passing over” the sins previously committed (in old Covenant times) until the times of Messiah, when they were laid to His account (Romans 3:21—26)

We now have enough background to return to our meditation upon Jesus first word from the Cross. Our Lord prays, “Father, hold off judgement upon these men, for they do not know what they are doing.” In praying this prayer, Jesus enters into the very heart of His Messianic work.

Firstly, we should understand that had He not prayed this prayer the world would have ended right there. Can we conceive of an act more heinous, more monstrous, more evil than the murder of the Righteous One, the Only Begotten of the Father, full of grace and truth? If the sins of Gentile Sodom and Gomorrah had risen in odious stench to the nostrils of God, commanding immediate judgment, what did this act require? If the child sacrifice to Molech brought the swift judgement of God upon Israel, what did this vile act require? The righteous anger of God would have poured forth upon all to the utter destruction of mankind, had not our blessed and beloved and ever faithful Saviour not prayed in panting gasps, “Father, hold back. Wait.”

It had ever been so since the Garden of Eden. When Adam sinned after God had said, “In the day thou eatest thereof dying thou shalt die,” He immediately sought man out and added, “Not yet,” for the seed of the woman was to come forth, in time, to crush the serpent. In that time of delayed judgment, there was hope—that God would yet be merciful and hear our cries and would save and deliver us, His people, from their sins.

But judgement delayed, makes judgement more certain and terrible—for stubbornness and hard heartedness, and contumely is added to the sheet for those who do not heed and repent.

Our Saviour prays to God, “Not yet, Father” for He has work to do. He must fulfil His sacrifice and make atonement. But there is another reason why He prays for a suspension in judgement: those who are doing these things are ignorant—they don’t understand the implications of all that is taking place. “Father, forgive them; for they do not know what they are doing.”

After He has triumphed over Hell, after He has risen from the dead and ascended into heaven, after He has entered into the very presence of God to have His atonement for our sins accepted, after He has received the Kingdom and sat down at the right hand of God on high, after He has poured forth His Spirit and His Apostles have preached and proclaimed the truth, then Israel will know what they have done.

He prays for more time so that grace and mercy might be extended. He prays for time so that you and I might be added to His people and be saved.

And so it was for Israel. On the day of Pentecost, after Calvary, our Covenant fathers had gathered from all over the world to Jerusalem (many of whom would not have been in Jerusalem at Passover, fifty days earlier), and Peter proclaimed to them what had happened, and the significance of it. “You nailed this Man Whom God had attested to be Messiah—the One whose coming you have looked for all your days—you nailed this Man to a Cross and put Him to death. But God raised Him up—proving that you have acted as the enemies of God in this thing.” And when they understood what they had done, they were pierced to the heart, and cried out, “Brethren, what shall we do.”

The Saviour’s prayer was being answered and the harvest was being reaped.

Again, Peter takes this up, some time later in the Temple: “you disowned the Holy and Righteous One.” You “put to death the Prince of Life, the One whom God raised from the dead.” But Peter had listened to our Lord’s first utterance from the Cross—and he shows that he understood: “And now, brethren, I know that you acted in ignorance, just as your rulers did also. Repent therefore and return, that your sins may be wiped away, in order that times of refreshing may come from the presence of the Lord and that He may send Jesus, the Christ appointed for you.” (Acts 3: 17—20)

The first word from the Cross sees the Messiah interceding for His people. May we say reverently that this is the time of absolute truth for our Saviour, for Messiah. In His terrible extremity, it is only what is in the depths of His being, the essence of His Person, that will hold Him now. He shows us that the great love of His life and heart is His people and their salvation. He pleads for a holding back of judgement that He might gather His beloved sheep.

He has other sheep, not of the house of Israel, not of “this fold. I must bring them also, and they shall hear My voice; and they shall become one flock with one Shepherd.” (John 10: 16) He prays with us in mind also, the Gentiles, that time might be granted that we too might be allowed to hear the words of Life and live.

How He loves us! How He loves the mission given Him by His Father. How He eagerly adopts it as His own and bears it with an implacable joyful, iron will. Lest we be in doubt, He exclaims “For this reason the Father loves Me, because I lay down My life (for the sheep) that I may take it again.

No-one has taken it away from Me, but I lay it down, and I have authority to take it up again. This commandment I received from my Father. . . . No-one shall snatch (the sheep) out of My hand.” (John 10: 14—29)

This mission is His, even to the point that on the Cross His first word is to plead for the Father to hold back from immediate judgement upon the most terrible sin in all creation and time, that He might gather His beloved sheep.

Now we are His, you and I. God has answered our faithful Saviour’s prayer. My sin took Him to Calvary. His prayer extended the day of salvation that I, too, might be numbered amongst the saints. And now we turn our hearts and minds to His great love as we live as His people in this wretched world of sin: Lord, even as Thou didst hear the prayer of Thine Only Begotten Son and delayed judgement, so we now join our prayer with His, and plead, ‘Lord overlook their sin and delay Thy judgement, that we might proclaim the marvellous excellencies of Him through the world. Even so, come quickly Lord Jesus.’