I've been in a discussion with my wife, and we'll call it a discussion, where I have looked at her and said four words I should not have said: "See? I was right."
Now, if you've ever done this, you already know the problem. The look on her face made it very clear that being technically accurate was not the point. I was right about whatever the specific thing was, sure. But I had completely missed what the conversation was actually about. Being right had become more important than being kind, more important than being present, more important than actually listening to her. I won the argument. I lost the moment. And I probably created three more arguments in the process.
That's the thing about being right for the wrong reasons. Accuracy without understanding just makes you a more confident version of wrong.
And that's exactly what's happening at the foot of the cross in Mark 15.
The chief priests and scribes are standing there mocking Jesus, and they say the most accidentally true sentence in the entire passage: "He saved others; he cannot save himself."
They thought they were tearing Him down. They were actually preaching the gospel.
He saved others? Yes. He healed the sick, cast out demons, forgave sins, raised the dead. He absolutely saved others. He cannot save himself? Yes. Not because He lacked the power. He could have called down twelve legions of angels. He spoke the universe into existence. He wasn't stuck up there. He stayed up there. Because saving Himself would have meant abandoning us.
D.A. Carson puts it this way: if He had saved Himself, He could not have saved others. The only way He could save others was precisely by not saving Himself.
The religious leaders were the Bible experts. They had spent their whole lives studying the Scriptures that pointed to this exact moment. And they were standing at the foot of the fulfillment of Isaiah 53, accidentally preaching it, and laughing.
They were right. They just had no idea what they were saying. And that's the saddest kind of wrong there is.