The Crown and the King
This morning I would like to take you on a journey to a place long ago and far away. A place where events happened that affect us today. I would like to take you to the dusty streets of a town where events unfolded both terrible and exciting. An event seemingly inconsequential at the time but, with the passing of time recognized as far-reaching.
You stand by a cobblestoned road amidst a crowd buzzing with excitement. On your left and right stand parents with children in tow. Here and there a father has placed a young son on his shoulders so that he may see what transpires on the road. Over there is a mother with a young infant cradled in her arms. Across the road from you is another young mother with a toddler standing next to her clutching desperately at her skirts.
To your right the road gradually curves away from you affording a vista of a few hundred feet. Above, you see a sky slowly turning grey and on the horizon clouds heavy with rain and ominously dark. To your left is the entrance to the governors quarters and the troops guardhouse. Alongside the entrance is a dozen guards standing nervously with their weapons at the ready.
All around, you see the panoply of humanity,
old and young,
rich and poor,
City dwellers and country farmers.
On their faces you see a wide range of emotions,
excitement,
fear,
Curiosity,
Anger,
Sadness.
You wonder to yourself, what brought them here? Are they here for the same reason as me? Or, are they here for revenge? Did they just happen to be walking by and saw the crowd and therefore, stopped to see what the excitement is all about?
You watch the crowd closely and notice the eyes shifting occasionally to look down the road. You see the lips move and wonder what is being said. Some people are laughing. Others are silent. The children’s eyes are big with curiosity wondering what the adults are talking about. Here and there you see the older kids climbing trees or roof tops to get a better look at what is transpiring.
Suddenly, you notice a shift in the volume of noise. You look and see the crowd has now focused their attention down the road. As you turn to look you notice just coming around the bend of the road many soldiers marching on either side of the road. In between them is a solitary individual. As the group comes closer you start to get a very good look at the man who seems to be the center of all the attention. Some things stand out:
He is walking with his head held high; yet he seems weighed down as with a heavy burden,
His eyes look weary; yet he seems to be focused on the destination
His hands are tied tightly in front of him, so tightly that his hands are turning purple.
His clothes are shredded and blood-soaked, but he wears them with dignity.
As the group gets closer the crowd becomes more animated and vocal. Some in the crowd are yelling encouragement. Others are shouting epithets. Some are begging for mercy, while others are exclaiming crucify him.
The crowd is becoming more and more restless. There are people pushing forward trying to reach the solitary prisoner for reasons unknown. The guards are having to shove people back into the crowd. There are some individuals throwing objects at the prisoner such as rocks, dung, and food.
All around you people are becoming louder. You look at the faces and notice how emotionally charged the crowd is. You think to yourself “no wonder the guards at the gate looked so nervous!”
Soon, with some difficulty, the group of soldiers are able to get their prisoner within the safe confines of the guardhouse which is where we will now shift our focus.
We stand in the guardhouse. The noise of the crowd outside is now muted enabling us to look closely at the prisoner and hear more clearly what is being said.
We know of course who the prisoner is. We know of the small group of men that accompanied Him for the last several years. We wonder where they are now. How come they were not with Him? Were they amongst the crowd outside?
As we look closely at Christ we see how noble he is. The firmness of His chin, the calmness in His eyes. Though scourged and beaten, though His skin has been torn from His back, not a whimper does He make.
You wonder, too at the actions of this governor and his soldiers. Why are they breaking the law that they so assiduously uphold? Isn’t the condemned man allowed time to reflect and have a last meal? Isn’t the Law of Tiberius to be obeyed? A man condemned to crucifixion is suppose to have ten days between sentencing and the act being carried out. And why is it necessary for the whole Roman regiment to be a witness and participant to this mockery?
The soldiers bring an old chair, and throw Him bodily into it. They jest that now the ‘king’ is sitting on His throne and they await His proclamations. Standing silently there, you reflect on how this King gave up His heavenly throne to come to earth for you.
Yes, He is a true king. One that was accustomed to cherubim and seraphim as guards, to angels singing His praise and obeying His every word. To princes and powers in all the heavenly places worshiping Him; yet here He now sits, treated worse than a felon, made the butt of every joke and a victim of tragedy. Here He sits in a broken chair, covered with a filthy and smelly old cloak and insulted by individuals who couldn’t even spell His name.
You ask yourself, “Why is He being treated this way? Why is He allowing these soldiers, the mob outside the gates even the Sanhedrin to treat Him so poorly?”
As you gaze upon His face, you see the majesty of a King in his eyes.
You see patience and tender-heartedness despite the epithets and mockery hurled His way.
You see a King whose face was marred with wounds that still trickled blood, willing to stoop so low to be amongst commoners and sinners.
The soldiers, chuckling among themselves begin to gather straw and quickly form a bundle. Wrapping the straw tightly with some string they hand the bundle to Christ commenting, “here is your scepter your majesty!”
Again the soldiers are adding insult to injury. They know fully well that a scepter or rod is a symbol of kingship. The scepter or rod is carried cradled in the kings arms to all official functions. It is a symbol that shows all the kings subjects that he has the authority and power to rule the kingdom. It also symbolizes the kings responsibility of protecting his subjects through his power over their enemies.
A rod is made of polished wood or precious metal. The soldiers gave Christ one made of straw. In effect the soldiers were saying here is a fake rod for your fake kingdom.
As you are wondering how Christ was willing to withstand such mockery, you see the soldiers now gathering brambles, twigs and thorns and begin to weave a crown. It matters not what particular bush this crown was made of whether an acacia or rose, suffice to say that this crown was not made of gold or silver. It was not composed of precious stones and diamonds. It wasn’t even composed of straw.
No, this crown was designed to hurt. It was meant to rip and tear that lovely brow. It was designed to inflict pain and misery upon an individual who spent many years walking the dusty roads of Palestine to bring healing and peace to the sick and lame.
This crown was meant to bring indignity and shame to someone they felt had absurdly claimed to be the Prince of Peace and King of the Jews. The soldiers were contemptuous of his claim as king.
If they felt that they would get a rise out Christ, they were sadly mistaken. Despite the soldiers mockery,
Despite the wounds, bruises, and pain inflicted upon him,
Despite the rickety chair serving as his throne,
Despite the smelly cloak that pretended to be His royal robes,
Despite the crown of thorns jammed upon His head and blood running down His face. . .
Christ remained serene, dignified, gentle and bore the shame with quiet endurance!
How painful it is to see these barbarians, these soldiers treat our Lord and Saviour! Even more so when we realize that Christ volunteered to undertake this shame and agony for us! He allowed Himself to be beaten, whipped, spit upon and mocked.
He lowered himself from heaven, so that we may be risen up.
He left the throne so that He may place us in his seat.
How can so much love be so poorly and cruelly received?!
Could I, could you, so calmly and quietly withstand the torture, pain and shame?
Could you or I remain dignified and stoically receive the taunts and spittle of the soldiers?
Would you or I be so willing to sacrifice ourselves to a crown of thorns and smelly garment in order to save another?
Most of us I’m sure would have cried uncle long before we ever made it to the guardhouse. Yet, Christ who could have called ten thousand angels to His rescue with just a whisper or thought with stood all the cruelty that man can throw at him. With just a wink or a nod, he could have ended the agony and eliminated His tormentors, but He didn’t.
He accepted the blows to his body. The thorns on His head. And the insults and lies to His face to save each one of us.
Finally, the soldiers kneel on the ground seemingly showing obeisance to this newly crowned king. “Oh, your majesty,” they chuckle, “what are your orders.” Such mockery! Such cruelty! The irony in all of this is the soldiers thought Christ was a play-king. In truth, He was and remains the only true King!
You realize all this as you watch the circus of events in the guardhouse. You are amazed at the Lord’s calmness. You are shamed at the wanton cruelty of your fellow man. Disgusted, you want to turn away and escape from the guardhouse. Just as these thoughts cross your mind you see the eyes of Christ turn your way. You see His lips move silently saying “forgive them.”
“Forgive them.” How could he? How could I? These soldiers are guilty of many crimes! They have inflicted pain.
They have mocked his dignity.
They denied His claims of being a king.
They have even questioned His teachings.
They were skeptical of his person, his life, his healings and impugned his character, yet He says forgives them?
What love!
What majesty!
What a Saviour!
I understand I took what is called Poetic License to paint this picture of what occurred so many centuries ago. Neither you or I were there when this event actually occurred. However, we can glean what transpired from the Gospels. We can look at the Old Testament books of Psalms and Isaiah and see hints of what was going to occur, so my story is not totally fiction.
What lessons can we learn from the events that I described? How can we apply it to today?
1. Christ was stripped naked before the punishment began. Genesis 3:7 shows that the shame of nakedness entered when man first sinned. Christ came to earth and suffered the punishment for our sins. Therefore, He too, must become naked with shame. He was laid bare and suffered the indignities that we thrust upon Him with our sin. But, He absorbed our shame without sound or whimper. How much shame or sorrow are you going to carry alone? Christ carried the load of the whole world 2000 years ago. I think He can carry your load now.
2. An old smelly cloak, crimson in color is laid across His shoulders. We are told in the Bible that our sins are as scarlet. The same scarlet color found on the robe draped across Christ’s shoulders. This symbolized His bearing our scarlet sins. The same sins that He washed in His blood to make us clean. What sins do you now carry on your shoulders? Will you confess them to the Lord and let him wash you clean. And, will you sin no more so that He may not have to suffer your sins again?
3. The Prince of Peace and Son of God, forsook the crown of gold He wore in heaven to wear a crown of thorns for us. This crown was not placed on His brow with infinite care and a loving touch. No it was thrust upon His head and to make sure it was seated properly tapped down with force by a rod! What thorns or brambles trouble you? We are told in Genesis 3 that thorns were introduced on earth with the entrance of sin. The ground was cursed because of sin. So too, did Christ suffer the thorns and curse of sin to save us. Do you wail and wallow in self-pity when snagged by a thorn? How did Christ handle the thorns thrust upon Him?
4. Christ gave up His heavenly throne and suffered the indignity of a rickety and dirty chair. Mocked and ridiculed he suffered silently the epithets of soldiers and citizenry. His ultimate goal was to save the very people that now tortured and spit upon Him. How often have you been ridiculed and mocked. How long did you suffer the shame and indignity without “giving as good as you got?” Were you able to look upon those that tortured you with love and forgiveness? Isn’t it humbling to know how far we must go to be Christ-like?
5. Despite everything that occurred to Jesus that terrible day so long ago, He was still in control! He gave no answer to Pilate’s question. He was silent before the High Priest. He was silent when the charges against him were read to Pilate. One whisper, one word would have freed Him, yet He remained silent. A man cannot stand silence, his pride and self-will withers away against stony silence. Jesus was silent because He had said everything He needed to say, but no one was listening. Do not make the same mistake. Take the time and listen to what Jesus has to say to your heart.
Yes, a king left his palace and his throne to come to earth as a lowly carpenter. He bore the shame and disgrace of ridicule and being treated as a common criminal. The people He came to save turned their backs upon Him. When given the opportunity to rescue Him from crucifixion they opted to save a murderer and thief instead. Yet, as he was dying on the cross, he still forgave all who so mistreated him.
As I close this journey into history I would like you to imagine yourself standing at the edge of a road. Immediately behind you is a cliff face with the top edge about a hundred feet up. You see no handholds nor a rope to climb. On either side of you is a precipice approximately one hundred feet down. In front you see two men walking slowly, but purposefully towards you.
The man on the left is dressed as a soldier. On his head is a helm with red bristles running down the center. Across his chest is a gleaming breastplate. A belt is wrapped around his waist holding a sword dripping with blood. On his feet are hobnailed sandals. In his left hand he holds a rod made of straw and in the other hand he clutches a bundle of brambles. His face is marred, his eyes angry and his mouth is twisted in a grimace and spewing out angry words.
The man on the right walks with quiet dignity. He wears a simple robe that is torn and marked with blood stains. His skin is bruised and in some places shredded. Across his brow he wears a crown of thorns. His face appears peaceful and his eyes shine brightly with love. His mouth is smiling and whispers of forgiveness. His hands, though empty, show the scars from being pierced by nails.
I ask you, who will you follow, whom will you listen to? The answer seems simple, yet many choose the former rather than the latter. The decision is life-changing. It is one that may determine whether you enter the gates of heaven or not. But, most importantly, it is a decision that only you can make. Choose wisely.
