Friday, March 21, 2014

The Cross

But He was wounded for our transgressions, He was bruised for our iniquities: the chastisement of our peace was upon Him; and with his stripes we are healed. All we like sheep have gone astray ; we have turned every one to his own way; and the LORD hath laid on Him the iniquity of us all. Isaiah 53:5-6

The story of the cross is not just a religious matter; something Christians have made up. His death and resurrection have become a reality in millions of lives who have been set free from sin and satan; from eternal death. It is an experience of a total change in one's life by the power of God, which never could have taken place otherwise. His death became our life.

When thinking about the suffering of Jesus Christ, in our mind's eye, we can see Him, the King of Kings, standing before Pilate. While the false accusations pierced His ears, Jesus spoke not. The crowd demanded a criminal to be released and thus His suffering began. Jesus was scourged, mocked, stripped, spit upon, crowned with thorns, and finally crucified. The agony on His face was not for Himself, but for us. His words: "It is finished", was Victory.

The story of the cross at Calvary is still the same, but it will never lose its power. How often we may repeat Matthew 27, it will never grow outdated, but rather will become more vivid to them that believe. Nevertheless, we will not be able to comprehend His love for us. His glorious resurrection was the crown to His finished work. And as we partake in His suffering, so also will we be partakers in His resurrection. With great anticipation we, who believe, are awaiting His return. Glory and praises to God, the Son and the Holy Spirit!

Luke 22:44... And being in an agony He prayed more earnestly: and His sweat was as it were great drops of blood falling down to the ground.

Isaiah 53:3,4... He is despised and rejected of men; a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief: and we hid as it were our faces from Him; He was despised, and we esteemed Him not. Surely he hath borne our griefs, and carried our sorrows: yet we did esteem him stricken, smitten of God, and afflicted. 


When our children were still small we used to live on the farm. One day while they were all playing outside, our youngest daughter, of 3 years old, tripped over a barn board and did fall flat on her bell.

Her hand was stuck to another small board because a protruding nail had pierced through the palm of her little hand and nearly came out on the other side. We did have to pull the board off her hand. Of course she was in much pain and cried pitifully.

While our other 3 children were standing around trying to comfort her, our son, of 7 years old, put his arm around her and said: "Debora, now you know how Jesus felt when they nailed Him to the Cross." Immediately she stopped crying. Tears were running down my face thinking how The Lord comforted us all with His tender loving-kindness, using a child to speak the Right words at the Right time.

John 20:25... The other disciples therefore said unto him (Thomas), We have seen the Lord. But he said unto them, Except I shall see in His hands the print of the nails, and put my finger into the print of the nails, and thrust my hand into his side, I will not believe.

I see agony in Your Holy face
and I cannot understand at all
Why You chose to save the human race
who so miserably did fall
It is Your unspeakable LOVE

I see Your Blood on hands and feet
dripping down that rugged cross
Your head, where blood and thorns do meet
Is bruised to save my soul from loss
It is Your immeasurable LOVE

I hear Your voice, a desperate cry
in anguish calling for relief
It echoes in the heavens high
It makes man shiver in disbelief
It is Your unselfish LOVE

At that God-forsaken place You died
You shed Your Precious Blood for me
to save me from my sin and pride
You cleansed me... You set me free
It is Your Redeeming LOVE

No human will ever understand
While Your life-blood was flowing away
You still reached out Your Holy hand
To rescue those who're going astray
It is Your Godly LOVE

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Poems & writing Copyright © Dr.Trudy Veerman, 1996-2014, All rights reserved

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