Cry From The Cross

Introduction – Point Me to the Cross

A little girl was lost on her way home.

A policeman asked, “Can I help you?”

She replied, “Just point me to the cross and I’ll find my way home.”

Her house stood beside a church with a great cross.

All heaven is interested in the cross of Christ.

All the forces of darkness fear it.

But humanity largely ignores it.

As I prayed over this message I said, Lord, I am inadequate.

Grace is never as amazing to me as when I study the cross.

Let’s pray:

Lord, reveal the height and depth of this subject.

Holy Spirit, speak to every heart. Amen.

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The Message of the Cross

“The message of the cross is the power of God” (1 Cor 1:18).

Paul resolved to know nothing except Jesus Christ and Him crucified.

Charles Spurgeon urged,

“Abide hard by the cross and search the mystery of His wounds.

It is the cross that Christ Himself will expound through eternity.”

Martin Luther said,

“I feel as if Christ died yesterday,”

so that we might live every day aware of His sacrifice.

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The Road to Golgotha

Matthew 27 draws us into the final hours of Jesus’ earthly life.

After a night of Gethsemane prayer and betrayal,

Jesus is bound like a criminal and led through Jerusalem’s streets to the governor’s palace.

The One who spoke worlds into being now walks with wrists tied,

led by those He created.

Before Pilate, Rome’s representative of power and justice,

He stands accused of treason and blasphemy.

The religious leaders hurl their charges—

but Jesus remains silent.

Pilate is unsettled.

Most prisoners plead and bargain for their lives,

but Jesus will not.

Isaiah’s prophecy is fulfilled:

“Like a lamb that is led to the slaughter, and like a sheep that before its shearers is silent, so He opened not His mouth.”

This is not weakness but resolve.

Every step and every silence is chosen.

Pilate’s wife even warns him, “Have nothing to do with that righteous man, for I suffered in a dream because of Him.” But the pressure mounts.

The priests know how to stir a crowd.

At the Passover it was customary to release a prisoner.

Pilate offers what he thinks is an easy choice:

“Whom do you want me to release to you—Barabbas, a murderer and rebel, or Jesus, who is called the Christ?”

Surely they will choose Jesus.

But the leaders move among the people,

whispering and persuading.

Two men stand before them:

Barabbas, whose name ironically means son of the father,

and Jesus, the true Son of the Father.

Pilate presses again,

“What shall I do, then, with Jesus who is called the Christ?”

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Where Are You in the Crowd?

The governor’s question hangs in the air, and the roar begins to rise.

CRU … CI … FY … HIM!

CRU … CI … FY … HIM!

Louder.

CRU … CI … FY … HIM!

Where are you in that crowd?

With the priests who schemed?

The soldiers who mocked?

The disciples who fled?

Or with John, standing and weeping?

Don’t answer too quickly.

The truth is: I find myself in the angry mob.

If I imagine my attitude or actions would have been different,

I do not understand the depth of my own sin.

Listen again:

CRU … CI … FY … HIM!

Louder still.

CRU … CI … FY … HIM!

That is my voice.

My pride. My rebellion. My sin.

John Stott wrote,

“Until you see the cross as something done by you,

you will never appreciate that it has been done for you.”

Martin Luther added,

“We all carry in our pockets the nails.”

Every sin I have committed drove the spikes deeper.

Every selfish thought tightened the thorns.

It was my sin that nailed Him there.

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The Crucifixion

Pilate washes his hands:

“I am innocent of this man’s blood. It is your responsibility.”

The soldiers strip Jesus, drape Him in a scarlet robe, press a crown of thorns on His head.

They mock, spit, and strike Him again and again.

Then they lead Him to Golgotha—the Skull.

They lay Him on the rough wood and drive the nails.

Not once does He protest.

Passersby taunt Him:

“Save Yourself! Come down from the cross if You are the Son of God!”

But He could not save Himself and save us too.

Darkness falls from noon until three.

Then comes the Cry from the Cross:

“Eloi, Eloi, lama sabachthani?”

My God, My God, why have You forsaken Me?

Measure the height of His love by the depth of His grief.

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The Cup of Wrath

In Gethsemane Jesus prayed, “Let this cup pass from Me.”

The cup was not mere physical pain;

it was the wrath of God against sin.