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I don’t know about you, but I generally do my best to avoid pain and suffering. I don’t even like the way those two words go together so smoothly… pain and suffering. Pain. Suffering. They are seemingly effortless. And unavoidable. Distasteful realities of the human condition. Realities that most of us wouldn’t wish upon our enemies.
Someone may boast a “No pain, no gain” philosophy in reply, but that speaks not of true pain, neither of true suffering but rather of a mentality of meritorious hard work. True, it may involve some degree of physical pain and even a type of suffering, but always at a level that the individual can withstand and always with the ability to make it stop. Those who extol this philosophy would likely see their pride extinguished when presented with an opportunity to truly suffer – like chronic hunger and malnutrition for a lifetime, or the sudden loss of the person closest to them, or a debilitating disease that brings a slow and agonizing death. No one chooses these things. Rather they seem to choose us – with their limitless levels of pain and no “Off” switch in sight.
It is in our DNA to avoid true pain when at all possible. Even a newborn infant expresses her displeasure at the slightest pain with the most insistent cry she can muster. And those cries continue right through old age when aches and pains manage to dominate a person’s thoughts and talk about the weather gives way to discussion of the latest and greatest analgesics.
Fifth graders know something about avoiding pain too. I observed them closely this past Sunday as we discussed the arrest and trial of Jesus in Sunday School. A few winced at the abuse and humiliation Jesus endured at the hands of the Sanhedrin – as they mocked and beat him (Mk 14:64-65; Lk 22:63-65). More recoiled at the description of the scourging Jesus would have endured prior to his crucifixion (Mt 27:26; Mk 15:15). But all eyes opened wide as their teacher produced a thorn-laden branch like those in the crown of thorns that was pressed into Jesus’ head (Mt 27:29; John 19:2). The branch made its way around the room, being passed from student to student with the utmost care. The passing student steadied the branch while the receiving student carefully selected a hold among the menacing thorns. More than twenty students handled the branch. No piercings. No bleeding. Mission accomplished.
Yet Jesus defined success very differently. Before the foundation of the world, pain and suffering figured prominently in his purpose statement. From the very moment he left heaven, they had their sights set on him. And when the crown of thorns came his way, he neither summoned ten thousand angels nor sought to find a safe hold, but rather grabbed on with both hands. His suffering and our salvation were inexorably linked. He achieved one by means of the other, grasping the thorns and his cup of suffering with both hands as they nailed him to the cross. There would be no other way.
Pierced. Bleeding. Despised. Rejected. Stricken. Afflicted. Wounded. Crushed. Cut off. Oppression. Grief. Sorrow. Judgment. “It was the will of the LORD to crush him.” (Isa 53:10).
“For all we like sheep have gone astray;
we have turned – every one – to his own way;
and the Lord has laid on him the iniquity of us all.” [Isa 53:6]
Mission Accomplished.
It is in the picture of Jesus’ suffering that I am reminded of the ugliness of my own sins – all of them. Sometimes we trade in ugly sins for prettier ones. Unacceptable sins for acceptable ones. And blatant sins for veiled ones. But even the prettiest of sins is a thorn in his crown. A whip on his back. A nail in his wrist.
Why do we remember Good Friday and the suffering of Christ? What is the purpose of this graphic image of pain and suffering? Why grieve ourselves by remembering it? As the Apostle Paul wrote, “godly grief produces a repentance that leads to salvation without regret.” [2Cor 7:10]
Salvation without regret. I don’t know about you, but I have enough regrets in my past – I don’t need any in my future. When I stand before Christ I long to hear the words, “Well done, good and faithful servant… Enter into the joy of your Master.” [Matt 25:21]
I pray that this Good Friday would be a reminder of the One who grabbed on with both hands because of the enormity of his love for us. It was for the joy set before him – bringing you and me back to himself – that he endured the cross (Heb 12:2). Oh, the wonders of the cross!
And I pray that we would be reminded of the ugliness of even our “pretty” sins. May the Holy Spirit unearth the sins we have quietly allowed back in. And may our sin grieve us for a godly grief that leads to repentance and salvation without regret.
Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses,
let us also lay aside every weight, and sin which clings so closely,
and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us...
...looking to Jesus, the founder and perfecter of our faith,
who for the joy that was set before him endured the cross,
despising the shame, and is seated
at the right hand of the throne of God." [Heb. 12:1-2]
let us also lay aside every weight, and sin which clings so closely,
and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us...
...looking to Jesus, the founder and perfecter of our faith,
who for the joy that was set before him endured the cross,
despising the shame, and is seated
at the right hand of the throne of God." [Heb. 12:1-2]
Grab on to Jesus today. With both hands.
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If music speaks to your heart, take a few minutes to meditate on the words of this song by Sidewalk Prophets.
