“And when they were come to the place, which is called Calvary,
there they crucified Him.”
“That He might sanctify the people with His own blood,” Christ
“suffered without the gate.” Heb. 13:12. For transgression of the law
of God, Adam and Eve were banished from Eden. Christ, our substitute,
was to suffer without the boundaries of Jerusalem. He died outside the
gate, where felons and murderers were executed. Full of significance
are the words, “Christ hath redeemed us from the curse of the law, being
made a curse for us.” Gal. 3:13.
A vast multitude followed Jesus from the judgment hall to Calvary.
The news of His condemnation had spread throughout Jerusalem, and
people of all classes and all ranks flocked toward the place of crucifixion.
The priests and rulers had been bound by a promise not to molest Christ’s
followers if He Himself were delivered to them, and the disciples and
believers from the city and the surrounding region joined the throng
that followed the Saviour.
As Jesus passed the gate of Pilate’s court, the cross which had been
prepared for Barabbas was laid upon His bruised and bleeding shoulders.
Two companions of Barabbas were to suffer death at the same time with
Jesus, and upon them also crosses were placed. The Saviour’s burden
was too heavy for Him in His weak and suffering condition. Since the
Passover supper with His disciples, He had taken neither food nor drink.
He had agonized in the garden of Gethsemane in conflict with satanic
agencies. He had endured the anguish of the betrayal, and had seen
His disciples forsake Him and flee. He had been taken to Annas, then
to Caiaphas, and then to Pilate. From Pilate He had been sent to Herod,
then sent again to Pilate. From insult to renewed insult, from mockery
to mockery, twice tortured by the scourge,—all that night there had
been scene after scene of a character to try the soul of man to the
uttermost. Christ had not failed. He had spoken no word but that tended
to glorify God. All through the disgraceful farce of a trial He had borne
Himself with firmness and dignity. But when after the second scourging
the cross was laid upon Him, human nature could bear no more. He
fell fainting beneath the burden.
The crowd that followed the Saviour saw His weak and staggering
steps, but they manifested no compassion. They taunted and reviled
Him because He could not carry the heavy cross. Again the burden was
laid upon Him, and again He fell fainting to the ground. His persecutors
saw that it was impossible for Him to carry His burden farther.
They were puzzled to find anyone who would bear the humiliating load.
The Jews themselves could not do this, because the defilement would
prevent them from keeping the Passover. None even of the mob that
followed Him would stoop to bear the cross.
At this time a stranger, Simon a Cyrenian, coming in from the country,
meets the throng. He hears the taunts and ribaldry of the crowd; he
hears the words contemptuously repeated, Make way for the King of the
Jews! He stops in astonishment at the scene; and as he expresses his
compassion, they seize him and place the cross upon his shoulders.
Simon had heard of Jesus. His sons were believers in the Saviour,
but he himself was not a disciple. The bearing of the cross to Calvary
was a blessing to Simon, and he was ever after grateful for this providence.
It led him to take upon himself the cross of Christ from choice,
and ever cheerfully stand beneath its burden.
Not a few women are in the crowd that follow the Uncondemned
to His cruel death. Their attention is fixed upon Jesus. Some of them
have seen Him before. Some have carried to Him their sick and suffering
ones. Some have themselves been healed. The story of the scenes
that have taken place is related. They wonder at the hatred of the crowd
toward Him for whom their own hearts are melting and ready to break.
And notwithstanding the action of the maddened throng, and the angry
words of the priests and rulers, these women give expression to their
sympathy. As Jesus falls fainting beneath the cross, they break forth
into mournful wailing.
This was the only thing that attracted Christ’s attention. Although
full of suffering, while bearing the sins of the world, He was not
indifferent to the expression of grief. He looked upon these women with
tender compassion. They were not believers in Him; He knew that they
were not lamenting Him as one sent from God, but were moved by
feelings of human pity. He did not despise their sympathy, but it
awakened in His heart a deeper sympathy for them. “Daughters of
Jerusalem,” He said, “weep not for Me, but weep for yourselves, and for
your children.” From the scene before Him, Christ looked forward to
the time of Jerusalem’s destruction. In that terrible scene, many of those
who were now weeping for Him were to perish with their children.
From the fall of Jerusalem the thoughts of Jesus passed to a wider
judgment. In the destruction of the impenitent city He saw a symbol of
the final destruction to come upon the world. He said, “Then shall they
begin to say to the mountains, Fall on us; and to the hills, Cover us.
For if they do these things in a green tree, what shall be done in the
dry?” By the green tree, Jesus represented Himself, the innocent
Redeemer. God suffered His wrath against transgression to fall on His
beloved Son. Jesus was to be crucified for the sins of men. What
suffering, then, would the sinner bear who continued in sin? All the
impenitent and unbelieving would know a sorrow and misery that
language would fail to express.
Of the multitude that followed the Saviour to Calvary, many had
attended Him with joyful hosannas and the waving of palm branches
as He rode triumphantly into Jerusalem. But not a few who had then
shouted His praise, because it was popular to do so, now swelled the cry
of “Crucify Him, crucify Him.” When Christ rode into Jerusalem, the
hopes of the disciples had been raised to the highest pitch. They had
pressed close about their Master, feeling that it was a high honor to be
connected with Him. Now in His humiliation they followed Him at a
distance. They were filled with grief, and bowed down with disappointed
hopes. How were the words of Jesus verified: “All ye shall be offended
because of Me this night: for it is written, I will smite the shepherd, and
the sheep of the flock shall be scattered abroad.” Matt. 26:31.
Arriving at the place of execution, the prisoners were bound to the
instruments of torture. The two thieves wrestled in the hands of those
who placed them on the cross; but Jesus made no resistance. The mother
of Jesus, supported by John the beloved disciple, had followed the steps
of her Son to Calvary. She had seen Him fainting under the burden
of the cross, and had longed to place a supporting hand beneath His
wounded head, and to bathe that brow which had once been pillowed
upon her bosom. But she was not permitted this mournful privilege.
With the disciples she still cherished the hope that Jesus would manifest
His power, and deliver Himself from His enemies. Again her heart
would sink as she recalled the words in which He had foretold the very
scenes that were then taking place. As the thieves were bound to the
cross, she looked on with agonizing suspense. Would He who had
given life to the dead suffer Himself to be crucified? Would the Son
of God suffer Himself to be thus cruelly slain? Must she give up her
faith that Jesus was the Messiah? Must she witness His shame and
sorrow, without even the privilege of ministering to Him in His distress?
She saw His hands stretched upon the cross; the hammer and the nails
were brought, and as the spikes were driven through the tender flesh,
the heart-stricken disciples bore away from the cruel scene the fainting
form of the mother of Jesus.
The Saviour made no murmur of complaint. His face remained calm
and serene, but great drops of sweat stood upon His brow. There was
no pitying hand to wipe the death dew from His face, nor words of
sympathy and unchanging fidelity to stay His human heart. While the
soldiers were doing their fearful work, Jesus prayed for His enemies,
“Father, forgive them; for they know not what they do.” His mind
passed from His own suffering to the sin of His persecutors, and the
terrible retribution that would be theirs. No curses were called down
upon the soldiers who were handling Him so roughly. No vengeance
was invoked upon the priests and rulers, who were gloating over the
accomplishment of their purpose. Christ pitied them in their ignorance
and guilt. He breathed only a plea for their forgiveness,—“for they
know not what they do.”
Had they known that they were putting to torture One who had
come to save the sinful race from eternal ruin, they would have been
seized with remorse and horror. But their ignorance did not remove
their guilt; for it was their privilege to know and accept Jesus as their
Saviour. Some of them would yet see their sin, and repent, and be converted.
Some by their impenitence would make it an impossibility for
the prayer of Christ to be answered for them. Yet, just the same, God’s
purpose was reaching its fulfillment. Jesus was earning the right to
become the advocate of men in the Father’s presence.
That prayer of Christ for His enemies embraced the world. It took
in every sinner that had lived or should live, from the beginning of the
world to the end of time. Upon all rests the guilt of crucifying the Son
of God. To all, forgiveness is freely offered. “Whosoever will” may
have peace with God, and inherit eternal life.
As soon as Jesus was nailed to the cross, it was lifted by strong men,
and with great violence thrust into the place prepared for it. This caused
the most intense agony to the Son of God. Pilate then wrote an inscription
in Hebrew, Greek, and Latin, and placed it upon the cross, above
the head of Jesus. It read, “Jesus of Nazareth the King of the Jews.”
This inscription irritated the Jews. In Pilate’s court they had cried,
“Crucify Him.” “We have no king but Caesar.” John 19:15. They had
declared that whoever should acknowledge any other king was a traitor.
Pilate wrote out the sentiment they had expressed. No offense was
mentioned, except that Jesus was the King of the Jews. The inscription was
a virtual acknowledgment of the allegiance of the Jews to the Roman
power. It declared that whoever might claim to be the King of Israel
would be judged by them worthy of death. The priests had overreached
themselves. When they were plotting the death of Christ, Caiaphas had
declared it expedient that one man should die to save the nation. Now
their hypocrisy was revealed. In order to destroy Christ, they had been
ready to sacrifice even their national existence.
The priests saw what they had done, and asked Pilate to change the
inscription. They said, “Write not, The King of the Jews; but that He
said, I am King of the Jews.” But Pilate was angry with himself because
of his former weakness, and he thoroughly despised the jealous and
artful priests and rulers. He replied coldly, “What I have written I
A higher power than Pilate or the Jews had directed the placing of
that inscription above the head of Jesus. In the providence of God it was
to awaken thought, and investigation of the Scriptures. The place where
Christ was crucified was near to the city. Thousands of people from all
lands were then at Jerusalem, and the inscription declaring Jesus of
Nazareth the Messiah would come to their notice. It was a living truth,
transcribed by a hand that God had guided.
In the sufferings of Christ upon the cross prophecy was fulfilled.
Centuries before the crucifixion, the Saviour had foretold the treatment
He was to receive. He said, “Dogs have compassed Me: the assembly
of the wicked have enclosed Me: they pierced My hands and My feet.
I may tell all My bones: they look and stare upon Me. They part My
garments among them, and cast lots upon My vesture.” Ps. 22:16-18.
The prophecy concerning His garments was carried out without counsel
or interference from the friends or the enemies of the Crucified One.
To the soldiers who had placed Him upon the cross, His clothing was
given. Christ heard the men’s contention as they parted the garments
among them. His tunic was woven throughout without seam, and they
said, “Let us not rend it, but cast lots for it, whose it shall be.”
In another prophecy the Saviour declared, “Reproach hath broken
My heart; and I am full of heaviness: and I looked for some to take
pity, but there was none; and for comforters, but I found none. They
gave Me also gall for My meat; and in My thirst they gave Me vinegar
to drink.” Ps. 69:20, 21. To those who suffered death by the cross, it was
permitted to give a stupefying potion, to deaden the sense of pain. This
was offered to Jesus; but when He had tasted it, He refused it. He would
receive nothing that could becloud His mind. His faith must keep fast
hold upon God. This was His only strength. To becloud His senses
would give Satan an advantage.
The enemies of Jesus vented their rage upon Him as He hung upon
the cross. Priests, rulers, and scribes joined with the mob in mocking
the dying Saviour. At the baptism and at the transfiguration the voice
of God had been heard proclaiming Christ as His Son. Again, just
before Christ’s betrayal, the Father had spoken, witnessing to His
divinity. But now the voice from heaven was silent. No testimony in
Christ’s favor was heard. Alone He suffered abuse and mockery from
“If Thou be the Son of God,” they said, “come down from the cross.”
“Let Him save Himself, if He be Christ, the chosen of God.” In the
wilderness of temptation Satan had declared, “If Thou be the Son of
God, command that these stones be made bread.” “If Thou be the Son
of God, cast Thyself down” from the pinnacle of the temple. Matt. 4:3, 6. And Satan with his angels, in human form, was present at the
cross. The archfiend and his hosts were co-operating with the priests
and rulers. The teachers of the people had stimulated the ignorant mob
to pronounce judgment against One upon whom many of them had
never looked, until urged to bear testimony against Him. Priests, rulers,
Pharisees, and the hardened rabble were confederated together in a
satanic frenzy. Religious rulers united with Satan and his angels. They
were doing his bidding.
Jesus, suffering and dying, heard every word as the priests declared,
“He saved others; Himself He cannot save. Let Christ the King of
Israel descend now from the cross, that we may see and believe.” Christ
could have come down from the cross. But it is because He would not
save Himself that the sinner has hope of pardon and favor with God.
In their mockery of the Saviour, the men who professed to be the
expounders of prophecy were repeating the very words which Inspiration
had foretold they would utter upon this occasion. Yet in their blindness
they did not see that they were fulfilling the prophecy. Those who in
derision uttered the words, “He trusted in God; let Him deliver Him
now, if He will have Him: for He said, I am the Son of God,” little
thought that their testimony would sound down the ages. But although
spoken in mockery, these words led men to search the Scriptures as
they had never done before. Wise men heard, searched, pondered, and
prayed. There were those who never rested until, by comparing scripture
with scripture, they saw the meaning of Christ’s mission. Never before
was there such a general knowledge of Jesus as when He hung upon
the cross. Into the hearts of many who beheld the crucifixion scene, and
who heard Christ’s words, the light of truth was shining.
To Jesus in His agony on the cross there came one gleam of comfort.
It was the prayer of the penitent thief. Both the men who were crucified
with Jesus had at first railed upon Him; and one under his suffering
only became more desperate and defiant. But not so with his companion.
This man was not a hardened criminal; he had been led astray by evil
associations, but he was less guilty than many of those who stood beside
the cross reviling the Saviour. He had seen and heard Jesus, and had
been convicted by His teaching, but he had been turned away from Him
by the priests and rulers. Seeking to stifle conviction, he had plunged
deeper and deeper into sin, until he was arrested, tried as a criminal, and
condemned to die on the cross. In the judgment hall and on the way
to Calvary he had been in company with Jesus. He had heard Pilate
declare, “I find no fault in Him.” John 19:4. He had marked His
godlike bearing, and His pitying forgiveness of His tormentors. On
the cross he sees the many great religionists shoot out the tongue with
scorn, and ridicule the Lord Jesus. He sees the wagging heads. He
hears the upbraiding speeches taken up by his companion in guilt: “If
Thou be Christ, save Thyself and us.” Among the passers-by he hears
many defending Jesus. He hears them repeat His words, and tell of His
works. The conviction comes back to him that this is the Christ. Turning
to his fellow criminal he says, “Dost not thou fear God, seeing thou
art in the same condemnation?” The dying thieves have no longer
anything to fear from man. But upon one of them presses the conviction
that there is a God to fear, a future to cause him to tremble. And now,
all sin-polluted as it is, his life history is about to close. “And we indeed
justly,” he moans; “for we receive the due reward of our deeds: but
this Man hath done nothing amiss.”
There is no question now. There are no doubts, no reproaches.
When condemned for his crime, the thief had become hopeless and
despairing; but strange, tender thoughts now spring up. He calls to
mind all he has heard of Jesus, how He has healed the sick and pardoned
sin. He has heard the words of those who believed in Jesus and followed
Him weeping. He has seen and read the title above the Saviour’s head.
He has heard the passers-by repeat it, some with grieved, quivering lips,
others with jesting and mockery. The Holy Spirit illuminates his mind,
and little by little the chain of evidence is joined together. In Jesus,
bruised, mocked, and hanging upon the cross, he sees the Lamb of God,
that taketh away the sin of the world. Hope is mingled with anguish in
his voice as the helpless, dying soul casts himself upon a dying Saviour.
“Lord, remember me,” he cries, “when Thou comest into Thy kingdom.”
Quickly the answer came. Soft and melodious the tone, full of love,
compassion, and power the words: Verily I say unto thee today, Thou
shalt be with Me in paradise.
For long hours of agony, reviling and mockery have fallen upon the
ears of Jesus. As He hangs upon the cross, there floats up to Him still
the sound of jeers and curses. With longing heart He has listened for
some expression of faith from His disciples. He has heard only the
mournful words, “We trusted that it had been He which should have
redeemed Israel.” How grateful then to the Saviour was the utterance
of faith and love from the dying thief! While the leading Jews deny
Him, and even the disciples doubt His divinity, the poor thief, upon the
brink of eternity, calls Jesus Lord. Many were ready to call Him Lord
when He wrought miracles, and after He had risen from the grave; but
none acknowledged Him as He hung dying upon the cross save the
penitent thief who was saved at the eleventh hour.
The bystanders caught the words as the thief called Jesus Lord. The
tone of the repentant man arrested their attention. Those who at the
foot of the cross had been quarreling over Christ’s garments, and casting
lots upon His vesture, stopped to listen. Their angry tones were hushed.
With bated breath they looked upon Christ, and waited for the response
from those dying lips.
As He spoke the words of promise, the dark cloud that seemed to
enshroud the cross was pierced by a bright and living light. To the
penitent thief came the perfect peace of acceptance with God. Christ
in His humiliation was glorified. He who in all other eyes appeared to
be conquered was a Conqueror. He was acknowledged as the Sin
Bearer. Men may exercise power over His human body. They may
pierce the holy temples with the crown of thorns. They may strip from
Him His raiment, and quarrel over its division. But they cannot rob
Him of His power to forgive sins. In dying He bears testimony to His
own divinity and to the glory of the Father. His ear is not heavy that it
cannot hear, neither His arm shortened that it cannot save. It is His
royal right to save unto the uttermost all who come unto God by Him.
I say unto thee today, Thou shalt be with Me in Paradise. Christ did
not promise that the thief should be with Him in Paradise that day.
He Himself did not go that day to Paradise. He slept in the tomb, and
on the morning of the resurrection He said, “I am not yet ascended to
My Father.” John 20:17. But on the day of the crucifixion, the day of
apparent defeat and darkness, the promise was given. “Today” while
dying upon the cross as a malefactor, Christ assures the poor sinner,
Thou shalt be with Me in Paradise.
The thieves crucified with Jesus were placed “on either side one, and
Jesus in the midst.” This was done by the direction of the priests and
rulers. Christ’s position between the thieves was to indicate that He
was the greatest criminal of the three. Thus was fulfilled the scripture,
“He was numbered with the transgressors.” Isa. 53:12. But the full
meaning of their act the priests did not see. As Jesus, crucified with the
thieves, was placed “in the midst,” so His cross was placed in the midst
of a world lying in sin. And the words of pardon spoken to the penitent
thief kindled a light that will shine to the earth’s remotest bounds.
With amazement the angels beheld the infinite love of Jesus, who,
suffering the most intense agony of mind and body, thought only of
others, and encouraged the penitent soul to believe. In His humiliation
He as a prophet had addressed the daughters of Jerusalem; as priest and
advocate He had pleaded with the Father to forgive His murderers; as
a loving Saviour He had forgiven the sins of the penitent thief.
As the eyes of Jesus wandered over the multitude about Him, one
figure arrested His attention. At the foot of the cross stood His mother,
supported by the disciple John. She could not endure to remain away
from her Son; and John, knowing that the end was near, had brought
her again to the cross. In His dying hour, Christ remembered His
mother. Looking into her grief-stricken face and then upon John, He
said to her, “Woman, behold thy son!” then to John, “Behold thy
mother!” John understood Christ’s words, and accepted the trust. He
at once took Mary to his home, and from that hour cared for her tenderly.
O pitiful, loving Saviour; amid all His physical pain and mental
anguish, He had a thoughtful care for His mother! He had no money
with which to provide for her comfort; but He was enshrined in the
heart of John, and He gave His mother to him as a precious legacy. Thus
He provided for her that which she most needed,—the tender sympathy
of one who loved her because she loved Jesus. And in receiving her as
a sacred trust, John was receiving a great blessing. She was a constant
reminder of his beloved Master.
The perfect example of Christ’s filial love shines forth with undimmed
luster from the mist of ages. For nearly thirty years Jesus by His daily
toil had helped bear the burdens of the home. And now, even in His
last agony, He remembers to provide for His sorrowing, widowed
mother. The same spirit will be seen in every disciple of our Lord.
Those who follow Christ will feel that it is a part of their religion to
respect and provide for their parents. From the heart where His love
is cherished, father and mother will never fail of receiving thoughtful
care and tender sympathy.
And now the Lord of glory was dying, a ransom for the race. In
yielding up His precious life, Christ was not upheld by triumphant joy.
All was oppressive gloom. It was not the dread of death that weighed
upon Him. It was not the pain and ignominy of the cross that caused
His inexpressible agony. Christ was the prince of sufferers; but His
suffering was from a sense of the malignity of sin, a knowledge that
through familiarity with evil, man had become blinded to its enormity.
Christ saw how deep is the hold of sin upon the human heart, how few
would be willing to break from its power. He knew that without help
from God, humanity must perish, and He saw multitudes perishing
within reach of abundant help.
Upon Christ as our substitute and surety was laid the iniquity of us
all. He was counted a transgressor, that He might redeem us from the
condemnation of the law. The guilt of every descendant of Adam was
pressing upon His heart. The wrath of God against sin, the terrible
manifestation of His displeasure because of iniquity, filled the soul of His
Son with consternation. All His life Christ had been publishing to a
fallen world the good news of the Father’s mercy and pardoning love.
Salvation for the chief of sinners was His theme. But now with the
terrible weight of guilt He bears, He cannot see the Father’s reconciling
face. The withdrawal of the divine countenance from the Saviour in this
hour of supreme anguish pierced His heart with a sorrow that can never
be fully understood by man. So great was this agony that His physical
pain was hardly felt.
Satan with his fierce temptations wrung the heart of Jesus. The
Saviour could not see through the portals of the tomb. Hope did not
present to Him His coming forth from the grave a conqueror, or tell
Him of the Father’s acceptance of the sacrifice. He feared that sin was
so offensive to God that Their separation was to be eternal. Christ felt
the anguish which the sinner will feel when mercy shall no longer plead
for the guilty race. It was the sense of sin, bringing the Father’s wrath
upon Him as man’s substitute, that made the cup He drank so bitter,
and broke the heart of the Son of God.
With amazement angels witnessed the Saviour’s despairing agony.
The hosts of heaven veiled their faces from the fearful sight. Inanimate
nature expressed sympathy with its insulted and dying Author. The sun
refused to look upon the awful scene. Its full, bright rays were illuminating
the earth at midday, when suddenly it seemed to be blotted out.
Complete darkness, like a funeral pall, enveloped the cross. “There was
darkness over all the land unto the ninth hour.” There was no eclipse
or other natural cause for this darkness, which was as deep as midnight
without moon or stars. It was a miraculous testimony given by God
that the faith of after generations might be confirmed.
In that thick darkness God’s presence was hidden. He makes darkness
His pavilion, and conceals His glory from human eyes. God and
His holy angels were beside the cross. The Father was with His Son.
Yet His presence was not revealed. Had His glory flashed forth from
the cloud, every human beholder would have been destroyed. And in
that dreadful hour Christ was not to be comforted with the Father’s
presence. He trod the wine press alone, and of the people there was
none with Him.
In the thick darkness, God veiled the last human agony of His Son.
All who had seen Christ in His suffering had been convicted of His
divinity. That face, once beheld by humanity, was never forgotten. As
the face of Cain expressed his guilt as a murderer, so the face of Christ
revealed innocence, serenity, benevolence,—the image of God. But His
accusers would not give heed to the signet of heaven. Through long
hours of agony Christ had been gazed upon by the jeering multitude.
Now He was mercifully hidden by the mantle of God.
The silence of the grave seemed to have fallen upon Calvary. A
nameless terror held the throng that was gathered about the cross. The
cursing and reviling ceased in the midst of half-uttered sentences. Men,
women, and children fell prostrate upon the earth. Vivid lightnings
occasionally flashed forth from the cloud, and revealed the cross and
the crucified Redeemer. Priests, rulers, scribes, executioners, and the
mob, all thought that their time of retribution had come. After a while
some whispered that Jesus would now come down from the cross.
Some attempted to grope their way back to the city, beating their breasts
and wailing in fear.
At the ninth hour the darkness lifted from the people, but still
enveloped the Saviour. It was a symbol of the agony and horror that
weighed upon His heart. No eye could pierce the gloom that surrounded
the cross, and none could penetrate the deeper gloom that enshrouded
the suffering soul of Christ. The angry lightnings seemed to be hurled at
Him as He hung upon the cross. Then “Jesus cried with a loud voice,
saying, Eloi, Eloi, lama sabachthani?” “My God, My God, why hast
Thou forsaken Me?” As the outer gloom settled about the Saviour,
many voices exclaimed: The vengeance of heaven is upon Him. The
bolts of God’s wrath are hurled at Him, because He claimed to be the
Son of God. Many who believed on Him heard His despairing cry.
Hope left them. If God had forsaken Jesus, in what could His followers
When the darkness lifted from the oppressed spirit of Christ, He
revived to a sense of physical suffering, and said, “I thirst.” One of the
Roman soldiers, touched with pity as he looked at the parched lips,
took a sponge on a stalk of hyssop, and dipping it in a vessel of vinegar,
offered it to Jesus. But the priests mocked at His agony. When darkness
covered the earth, they had been filled with fear; as their terror abated,
the dread returned that Jesus would yet escape them. His words, “Eloi,
Eloi, lama sabachthani?”
they had misinterpreted.
With bitter contempt
and scorn they said,
“This man calleth for
Elias.” The last opportunity
to relieve His sufferings
they refused. “Let
be,” they said, “let us see
whether Elias will come
to save Him.”
The spotless Son of
God hung upon the cross,
His flesh lacerated with
stripes; those hands so often
reached out in blessing,
nailed to the wooden
bars; those feet so tireless
on ministries of love,
spiked to the tree; that
royal head pierced by the
crown of thorns; those
quivering lips shaped to
the cry of woe. And all
that He endured—the blood drops that flowed from His head, His
hands, His feet, the agony that racked His frame, and the unutterable
anguish that filled His soul at the hiding of His Father’s face—speaks
to each child of humanity, declaring, It is for thee that the Son of God
consents to bear this burden of guilt; for thee He spoils the domain of
death, and opens the gates of Paradise. He who stilled the angry waves
and walked the foam-capped billows, who made devils tremble and
disease flee, who opened blind eyes and called forth the dead to
life,—offers Himself upon the cross as a sacrifice, and this from love to
He, the Sin Bearer, endures the wrath of divine justice, and for thy
sake becomes sin itself.
In silence the beholders watched for the end of the fearful scene.
The sun shone forth; but the cross was still enveloped in darkness.
Priests and rulers looked toward Jerusalem; and lo, the dense cloud
had settled over the city and the plains of Judea. The Sun of Righteousness,
the Light of the world, was withdrawing His beams from the
once favored city of Jerusalem. The fierce lightnings of God’s wrath
were directed against the fated city.
Suddenly the gloom lifted from the cross, and in clear, trumpetlike
tones, that seemed to resound throughout creation, Jesus cried, “It is
finished.” “Father, into Thy hands I commend My spirit.” A light
encircled the cross, and the face of the Saviour shone with a glory like
the sun. He then bowed His head upon His breast, and died.
Amid the awful darkness, apparently forsaken of God, Christ had
drained the last dregs in the cup of human woe. In those dreadful hours
He had relied upon the evidence of His Father’s acceptance heretofore
given Him. He was acquainted with the character of His Father; He
understood His justice, His mercy, and His great love. By faith He
rested in Him whom it had ever been His joy to obey. And as in submission
He committed Himself to God, the sense of the loss of His Father’s
favor was withdrawn. By faith, Christ was victor.
Never before had the earth witnessed such a scene. The multitude
stood paralyzed, and with bated breath gazed upon the Saviour. Again
darkness settled upon the earth, and a hoarse rumbling, like heavy thunder,
was heard. There was a violent earthquake. The people were
shaken together in heaps. The wildest confusion and consternation
ensued. In the surrounding mountains, rocks were rent asunder, and
went crashing down into the plains. Sepulchers were broken open, and
the dead were cast out of their tombs. Creation seemed to be shivering
to atoms. Priests, rulers, soldiers, executioners, and people, mute with
terror, lay prostrate upon the ground.
When the loud cry, “It is finished,” came from the lips of Christ,
the priests were officiating in the temple. It was the hour of the evening
sacrifice. The lamb representing Christ had been brought to be slain.
Clothed in his significant and beautiful dress, the priest stood with lifted
knife, as did Abraham when he was about to slay his son. With intense
interest the people were looking on. But the earth trembles and quakes;
for the Lord Himself draws near. With a rending noise the inner
veil of the temple is torn from top to bottom by an unseen hand, throwing
open to the gaze of the multitude a place once filled with the presence
of God. In this place the Shekinah had dwelt. Here God had manifested
His glory above the mercy seat. No one but the high priest ever lifted
the veil separating this apartment from the rest of the temple. He
entered in once a year to make an atonement for the sins of the people.
But lo, this veil is rent in twain. The most holy place of the earthly
sanctuary is no longer sacred.
All is terror and confusion. The priest is about to slay the victim;
but the knife drops from his nerveless hand, and the lamb escapes.
Type has met antitype in the death of God’s Son. The great sacrifice
has been made. The way into the holiest is laid open. A new and living
way is prepared for all. No longer need sinful, sorrowing humanity
await the coming of the high priest. Henceforth the Saviour was to
officiate as priest and advocate in the heaven of heavens. It was as if a
living voice had spoken to the worshipers: There is now an end to all
sacrifices and offerings for sin. The Son of God is come according to
His word, “Lo, I come (in the volume of the Book it is written of Me,)
to do Thy will, O God.” “By His own blood” He entereth “in once
into the holy place, having obtained eternal redemption for us.” Heb. 10:7; 9:12.
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