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Bird on a wireFriday, April 13, 2001
John 18:1-19:42 Black Friday. Day of death. Jesus' back, whipped and bleeding, slowly bends, nearly breaks. The cross he carries leaves splinters in his shoulders, and the sun rises hot already, beating him down, merciless. Here is the man who knew his fate, and the God who made himself nothing, took the nature of a servant and became obedient to death. The soldiers took charge of him. Death took charge of Jesus. Jesus, surrounded by people who hate him and others who love him ... here he is again and always utterly alone. Even on the cross he is the great divider. One prisoner looks at Jesus and sees his own sin, humbles his mind and body, turns toward God. The other looks at Jesus and sees one more opportunity to point the finger away from himself. He freezes his selfishness in time and dies bitter, ugly, turning away. Jesus in the middle, alone, finally whispering hoarsely as the clouds roil and thunderclaps begin, "It is finished!" God's lightning crashes down for all to see. If only you would slay the wicked, O God! Away from me, you bloodthirsty men! They speak of you with evil intent; your adversaries misuse your name. Do I not hate those who hate you, O Lord, and abhor those who rise up against you? I have nothing but hatred for them; I count them my enemies. (Psalm 139) I love you Lord, and I lift my voice, to worship you ... oh my soul, rejoice! Take joy, my King, in what you hear ... may it be a sweet, sweet sound in your ear. |