Preschool
Behold the Lamb of God (John 1:29).
Behold the Lamb of God (John 1:29).
Behold the Lamb of God, which taketh away the sin of the world (John 1:29).
The next day John seeth Jesus coming unto him, and saith, Behold the Lamb of God, which taketh away the sin of the world (John 1:29).
Background Scripture: John 19
Lesson Scripture: John 19:16–30
All that is worst in man and all that is best in God culminated simultaneously at Calvary. The crucifixion of the sinless Son of God is both the most horrible event in history and the most wonderful.
On that terrible day, the creation turned against its Creator, and we sought to destroy the One who formed us. As Creator, He held to our lips the brimming cup of life, but we forced through his parched lips the last dregs of bitter death.
If the crucifixion is love at its most magnificent, then love is a terrible, destroying power. This is love to be feared, to be honored, and to be praised. It is love all-conquering and all-powerful (see Song of Sol. 8:6–7). Above all, it is love to be received. If we receive it, this love will destroy every remnant of sin in our lives and redeem and refine every fiber of our being. From the lowest point of human sin will come forth the song of the ransomed, the song of highest praise.
To wit, that God was in Christ, reconciling the world unto himself, not imputing their trespasses unto them; and hath committed unto us the word of reconciliation (2 Cor. 5:19).
John 19:16 Then delivered he him therefore unto them to be crucified. And they took Jesus, and led him away.
17 And he bearing his cross went forth into a place called the place of a skull, which is called in the Hebrew Golgotha:
18 Where they crucified him, and two other with him, on either side one, and Jesus in the midst.
19 And Pilate wrote a title, and put it on the cross. And the writing was, JESUS OF NAZARETH THE KING OF THE JEWS.
20 This title then read many of the Jews: for the place where Jesus was crucified was nigh to the city: and it was written in Hebrew, and Greek, and Latin.
21 Then said the chief priests of the Jews to Pilate, Write not, The King of the Jews; but that he said, I am King of the Jews.
22 Pilate answered, What I have written I have written.
23 Then the soldiers, when they had crucified Jesus, took his garments, and made four parts, to every soldier a part; and also his coat: now the coat was without seam, woven from the top throughout.
24 They said therefore among themselves, Let us not rend it, but cast lots for it, whose it shall be: that the scripture might be fulfilled, which saith, They parted my raiment among them, and for my vesture they did cast lots. These things therefore the soldiers did.
25 Now there stood by the cross of Jesus his mother, and his mother’s sister, Mary the wife of Cleophas, and Mary Magdalene.
26 When Jesus therefore saw his mother, and the disciple standing by, whom he loved, he saith unto his mother, Woman, behold thy son!
27 Then saith he to the disciple, Behold thy mother! And from that hour that disciple took her unto his own home.
28 After this, Jesus knowing that all things were now accomplished, that the scripture might be fulfilled, saith, I thirst.
29 Now there was set a vessel full of vinegar: and they filled a spunge with vinegar, and put it upon hyssop, and put it to his mouth.
30 When Jesus therefore had received the vinegar, he said, It is finished: and he bowed his head, and gave up the ghost.
Crucifixion is horrible in the deepest, truest sense of the word, an infliction of death specifically designed to multiply shame and maximize suffering. If any of us would be forced to watch the whole cruel process, we would come away shaken, scarred, and traumatized, yet we cannot avoid the crucifixion of Jesus. There is no path to heaven that does not pass by his cross. We cannot hurry past, trying not to look, not to think, not to feel what is happening on this rugged tree. We must drop everything else and look at the crucified Savior deeply and deliberately with heart, mind, and soul. The flesh recoils. It is not easy to look steadfastly at such suffering.
The crucified Man is naked, his clothes in the hands of gamblers at the foot of the cross. Yet He is covered, not with cloth, but with bruises, blood, wounds, and stripes. Dirt from the roadway where He fell clings to the clotted rivulets where the blood gushed from his back. He has been struck, slapped, and spat upon. Handfuls of his beard have been yanked from his cheeks. Truly, if we should “see him, there is no beauty that we should desire him” (Isa. 53:2).
What does his mother feel as she watches Him suffer? Surely her mind goes back to scenes from Bethlehem; there the angels proclaimed peace on earth. Now the priests stand taunting her Son while a crude sign proclaims Him King of the Jews. Does she remember Simeon’s warning: “A sword shall pierce through thy own soul also”? (Luke 2:35). She must surely feel that terrible thrust in her bosom as she watches his agony. Tenderly, her dying Son commits her to the care of his disciple John.
John is near enough to the cross to hear the words Jesus says. As he looks at Jesus hanging there with a thief on either side, does he think back to the day when his mother asked that he and his brother be given places, one at Jesus’s right hand and the other at his left?
As he sees Jesus hanging there with his bruised, broken body, John must surely also remember how that body was glorified on the Mount of Transfiguration. Then, the Voice from the cloud had said, “This is my beloved Son” (Matt. 17:5). Now, this beloved One hangs forsaken and forgotten. There is no cloud, no Voice, no glory: only the sounds of suffering in the deepening darkness.
In Mark 15:23, we read that Jesus refused wine mingled with myrrh as He was nailed to the cross. Offering this mixture was a tiny act of mercy to the condemned men. It deadened their senses at least for a short time. Jesus refused it; He was not looking for ways to reduce his suffering, but as the moment of death nears, Jesus knows that his time of agony is drawing to a close. He has poured out his lifeblood nearly to the last drop. His body is racked with fever from inflammation and dehydrated from loss of blood. His plea, “I thirst,” is one final witness of his humanity, one last proof that He is in need and feels pain. He came to the world as a helpless baby, dependent on a young woman for food. Now, with his hands nailed, the helpless Creator of rivers draws a few precious drops of liquid from a sponge held to his lips.
Then He utters his final words: “It is finished.” His sojourn on earth as a Man among men is over. The sermons by the seashore, the nights spent in prayer, the crowds of sick and lame, the long talks with his disciples—all these are behind Him now.
His eyes are closed; his thorn-crowned head falls forward. His suffering is finished. The pain, the thirst, and the tortured breathing are over. As his Father rested on the seventh day of creation, so the Son rests from his labor. He has completed the work He came to do.
Redemption is finished. The price for sin is paid in full. With these three words, “It is finished,” mankind crosses from hopelessness to hope, from eternal death to eternal life. The cornerstone of the church has now been laid.
To view Calvary only as a historic event is to miss its reality. Revelation 13:8 refers to “the Lamb slain from the foundation of the world.” The crucifixion of Jesus reaches back to the dawn of time and forward to its final sunset. God and his Son, who inhabit eternity, are not held in place by time like we are.
We may know about the resurrection, but the fact is meaningless to us until our sin is dealt with. Until we get rid of our burden, the resurrection may as well never have happened. Stumbling to the cross with our heavy load, we find the crucifixion happening before our very eyes.
“When lust hath conceived, it bringeth forth sin” (James 1:15). This conception happens in our own minds and hearts. Our hands, our tongues, our minds, and our bodies have given it abundant birth. “And sin, when it is finished, bringeth forth death.” Calvary is where we see sin when it is finished. Here is where death is brought forth.
Every lustful thought, every angry word, every lie, every fear, and every doubt reaches its grotesque maturity here. We must—we absolutely must—step close enough to the cross to make this personal connection. Each of us must see these stripes, this dripping blood, this anguished breath, for the nails are my words, my lusts, and my thoughts in full and terrible bloom.
The anguish of this realization is the pang of true repentance. As we see Jesus suffering for the sins that we brought forth, sin becomes abhorrent to us. We cannot tolerate even the smallest fragment remaining in our hearts. “What carefulness it wrought in you, yea, what clearing of yourselves, yea, what indignation, yea, what fear, yea, what vehement desire, yea, what zeal, yea, what revenge!” (2 Cor. 7:11). Then, and only then, the scales drop from our eyes. Finally, we can see the beauty of Calvary.
All the sin of the world came to one single place—the cross of Jesus. At the same time, all the grace of God in the whole universe came there too: “Where sin abounded, grace did much more abound” (Rom. 5:20). Not only did our sins disappear at Calvary, but Jesus took our sorrows and griefs there also (Isa. 53:4), yet He despised the shame because of the joy set before Him (Heb 12:2.) The joy of redemption swallows up the sorrows of earth like a mighty wind scatters a puff of smoke. The joy set before Jesus is not only greater than the sorrow He carried—it is infinitely greater.
“It is finished,” Jesus said. It is sorrow and sin that are finished, for joy and righteousness have only begun.
Illustration
The little house stands quietly, abandoned in the sunshine of an Egyptian morning. The door stands ajar, as if the inhabitants left in such haste they had no time to close it. Note the two red stains on the doorposts, a crimson slash on each side of the open door. Walking around the house, we find an abandoned garden and what seems to be an empty sheepfold, its door also open.
All is still except for the noise of flies at the kitchen garbage heap, buzzing about the remnants of a dead animal. Most of the carcass has been burned, and the rest has been picked over by dogs, but the wool and the bones remain. This forlorn, little heap is all that remains of what was a perfect lamb.
Shifting our gaze a few dozen miles to the east on this same sunny morning, a ten-year-old boy jumps from his pallet and hurries to the tent door. His eyes are bright with the joy of living, and grabbing a basket, he hurries to help his family gather food for the day—a wonderful new food called manna.
Give this imaginary scene some consideration. At the family’s old home, we saw the bloodstained doorposts and the lamb’s abandoned carcass. Here, cheerfully gathering manna, we see the lad full of life and enthusiasm, running and jumping and playing the way a happy, healthy boy does. Egypt and slavery are behind him, and the land of milk and honey is before him.
If the lamb had not died and its blood had not been painted on the doorposts, there would be a small, recent grave beside that kitchen garden. Because the lamb died, the boy that it redeemed is happily on his way to the promised land.
Source: COGICM Daily Bible Readings (Daily Bible Readings, PO Box 124, Glenn, CA 95943).