Following Jesus (15)
Scott Bayles, pastor
Scripture: Mark 15:16-39
Blooming Grove Christian Church: 4/9/2017
I want to thank you for joining us today and, if you’ve been here the last fifteen weeks, I want to thank you for joining me on this journey through the Gospel of Mark. I hope that this series has been both insightful and inspiring as we’ve attempted to draw near to the heart of Jesus by examining his life and the lessons he taught along the way.
We last left Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane. In Mark 14, as Jesus wrestled with soul-crushing grief, he sought a place of solitude away from the crowds and chaos of life. He sought the support of those closest to him including an angel from heaven. And he submitted to God the Father in heartfelt supplication.
Once Jesus finished praying, he rose triumphantly; ready to face his betrayer. Judas led a band of men armed with swords and clubs to arrest Jesus and bring him before the Jewish High Council. The council paraded out one false witness after another to testify against Jesus, but they couldn’t get their stories straight. Finally, Jesus spoke up and declared himself the Son of God. To the council this was blasphemy worthy of death.
Meanwhile, Peter was in the outer courtyard warming himself by the fire. Three times, someone recognized him as one of Jesus’ followers and three times he denied it. Finally realizing what he’d done, Peter ran out of the courtyard weeping bitterly.
As Mark 15 begins, the entire Jewish High Council ties Jesus up and leads him to Pilate, the Roman governor. Pilate questions Jesus, finds no guilt in him and attempts to set him free. But the angry mob of priests and religious zealots cry out for his crucifixion. The story of Christ’s crucifixion is one we’re all familiar with. The image of Christ on the cross is burned into our collective consciousness. But if we look closely at the specifics of the story perhaps there’s something we missed.
Many years ago, Max Lucado wrote a book title He Chose the Nails in which he writes, “Much has been said about the gift of the cross itself, but what of the other gifts? What of the nails, the crown of thorns? What about the garment taken? What about the garments given? Have you taken time to open these gifts?”
Throughout the book, Max highlights fourteen seemingly insignificant details surrounding Christ’s death and draws out of them some powerful and poignant points. I’d like to do the same thing this morning, except I just want to focus on three of these gifts. As we unwrap these gifts of grace—perhaps for the first time—I want you to listen as they tell you what Jesus did to win your heart.
In the order that Mark mentions them, the first of these elements is spit—the spit of the soldiers.
• THE SPIT
When the mob demanded Jesus’ execution, Pilate tried to satisfy their bloodlust by having Jesus flogged. The legionnaire’s whip consisted of leather straps with lead balls on each end. His goal was singular: Beat the accused within an inch of his death and then stop. Under Hebrew law a punishment was limited to forty strokes. However, there was no such numerical limitation imposed by the Romans. One writer has said that when the Romans scourged a Jew, they struck at least forty-one times out of spite for the Jewish law. Regardless, Jesus was no doubt near death when his hands were untied and he slumped to the ground.
The whipping was the first deed of the soldiers. The crucifixion was the third. We don’t fault the soldiers for these two actions. After all, they were just following orders. But what’s hard to understand is what they did in-between. Here’s Mark’s description:
The soldiers took Jesus into the courtyard of the governor’s headquarters (called the Praetorium) and called out the entire regiment. They dressed him in a purple robe, and they wove thorn branches into a crown and put it on his head. Then they saluted him and taunted, “Hail! King of the Jews!” And they struck him on the head with a reed stick, spit on him, and dropped to their knees in mock worship. When they were finally tired of mocking him, they took off the purple robe and put his own clothes on him again. Then they led him away to be crucified. (Mark 15:16-20 NLT)
The soldier’s assignment was simple: take the accused to the hill and kill him. But they had another idea. They wanted to have some fun first. Strong, well-rested, armed soldiers encircled an exhausted, nearly dead, Galilean carpenter and beat up on him. The scourging was commanded. The crucifixion was ordered. But who would draw pleasure from spitting on a half-dead man?
Spitting isn’t intended to hurt the body—it can’t. Spitting is intended to degrade the soul, and it does. These were bullies who elevated themselves at the expense of another. They felt big by making Christ look small.
Have you ever done that? Maybe you’ve never spit in someone’s face, but have you gossiped, slandered or made fun of someone? Have you ever raised your hand in anger or rolled your eyes in arrogance? Have you ever made someone feel bad so that you could feel good?
There’s something ugly, defiant, angry, mean within each one of us. The Bible calls it our sinful nature. It’s not that we can’t do good. We do. It’s just that we can’t keep from doing bad. In theological terms, we’re “depraved.” Though made in God’s image, we’ve fallen. The spit of the soldiers represents the worst humanity has to offer—hatred, evil, the filth within our hearts.
But notice what Jesus does with the spit. He carries it to the cross. He could have wiped it away, but he didn’t. Mingled with his blood and sweat was the essence of our sin. Through the prophet Isaiah, Jesus said, “I offered my back to those who beat me and… I did not hide my face from mockery and spitting” (Isaiah 50:6 NLT). In others word, Jesus willingly took our ugliness and abuse so he could carry it to the cross. That bring us to the second element of the crucifixion—the spikes.
• THE SPIKES
After the soldiers had their fun, they brought Jesus to a place called Golgotha, which means Place of the Skull. Mark writes, “Then the soldiers nailed him to the cross.” (Mark 15:24 NLT).
It’s such a short sentence. Just eight little words. The eye absorbs them in a second then moves on the next sentence. But imagine this scene with me. The soldiers shove Jesus to the ground and stretch his arms against the beams. One presses a knee against his forearm and a spike against his hand. Jesus turns his face toward the nail just as the soldier lifts the hammer to strike it.
These weren’t ordinary nails like you might use to hang a picture or even drywall. Rather, Jesus saw a heavy iron spike—reminiscent of a railroad tie—probably square and 7-9 inches long. Many great painters from the past have depicted Jesus being nailed through his palms to the cross, but in reality, the spikes would have been driven through his wrists.
Have you ever hit your funny bone? It’s not funny, is it? There is a tendon that runs through your wrist, similar to the tendon that hurts when you hit your funny bone. That tendon would have been crushed by the spikes, sending searing pain through the victim’s arms and into his fingertips.
Knowing what’s coming and seeing the soldier raise the mallet, we wonder, couldn’t Jesus have stopped him? With the flex of his biceps, with a clench of the fist, he could have resisted. As the old hymn says, “He could have called ten thousand angels to destroy the world and set him free.” But he didn’t.
The mallet rings and the skin rips and the blood begins to drip, then rush. Then the questions follow. Why? Why didn’t Jesus resist?
I think the answer is—he saw something that made him stay. As the solider pressed his arm, Jesus rolled his head to the side, and with his cheek resting on the wood he saw… the mallet… the spike… the soldiers hand… his own hand—the callous palm of a carpenter. But he saw something else. Something no one else could see. Only through the eyes of Scripture can we see what Jesus saw: “he forgave all your sins, and blotted out the charges proved against you, the list of his commandments which you had not obeyed. He took this list of sins and destroyed it by nailing it to Christ’s cross” (Colossians 2:13-14 TLB).
Between his hand and the wood there was a list. A long list. Dangling from the cross is an itemized list of all our faults and failures: our lusts and lies, greedy moments and prodigal years. The bad attitude from last week. The bad decisions from last year. There in broad daylight for all of heaven to see is a list of your sins.
But you can’t read it. No one can. The mistakes are covered. The sins are hidden. Those at the top are hidden by his hands; those down the list are covered by his blood. Your sins are “blotted out” by his blood.
That’s why Jesus refused to fight back. He saw the list. This criminal record, this tabulation of your moral and spiritual failures. He knew the price for those sins was death. He knew the source of those sins was you. Since he couldn’t bear the thought of eternity without you, he chose the spikes.
Had the soldier hesitated, Jesus would have swung the hammer himself. He knew how; he was no stranger to driving nails. As a carpenter, he knew what it took. As a Savior, he knew what it meant. And as the hand of Jesus opened for the spike, the doors of heaven opened for you.
That bring us to the third and final surprisingly significant component of the crucifixion—the sign.
• THE SIGN
As the story of Christ’s crucifixion continues, Mark mentions one more detail of greater significance than it may seem: “A signboard was fastened to the cross above his head, announcing his crime. It read, ‘The King of the Jews’” (Mark 15:26 TLB).
What Mark doesn’t mention, but John does, is that Pilate himself wrote the sign and put it on the cross. It read: Jesus of Nazareth, The King of the Jews. And it was written in three languages—Hebrew, Latin and Greek. The sign bothered the Jewish priests. They complained to Pilate, saying, “Don’t write, ‘The King of the Jews.’ But write, ‘This man said I am King of the Jews.’” Pilate, however, refused to change it.
When the Romans fastened a signboard onto a cross, it served as a warning to passersby. This is what Rome does with thieves… insurrectionists… murders… Messiahs… or, in this case, Kings. Pilate intended the sign to threaten and mock the Jews. But God had another purpose in mind. Ironically, Pilate became an instrument for declaring the Gospel in every language. In big bold print for all the world to read, he announced: Jesus is King!
Everyone wants to be a king.
Some of us want to be the king of our workplace, or the king of our house. Some of us want to be the king of our fantasy football league. Some of us treat the highway as our own little kingdom, demanding that our minions ask our permission before they change lanes or slow down.
Kings stand above everyone else, receiving praise and reverence from everyone around them. Nothing is withheld from kings. They never come in second place, and they never have to acquiesce to another’s needs.
In the infamous words of Mel Brooks, “It’s good to be king.”
But the truth is—there is only One True King. It’s not me. It’s not you. Jesus and Jesus alone is King of Israel, king of all nations, king of nature and the universe. He’s the King of Kings and Lord of Lords. As Scripture says, “God elevated him to the place of highest honor and gave him the name above all other names, that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and every tongue declare that Jesus Christ is Lord” (Philippians 2:9-11 NLT).
It’s good that I’m not the king. I wouldn’t be very good at it. Jesus is the perfect King. He’s just, loving, merciful, and full of grace. He doesn’t barter with lesser kings, he can’t be bribed, and he’s not corruptible. He doesn’t just do good — he is good. And the best part is—he invites all of us into his Kingdom.
Moments before his own death, in a maelstrom of pain, one of the criminals crucified beside Jesus turns and says, “Jesus, remember me when you come into your Kingdom” (Luke 23:42 NIV).
Interesting choice of words. He doesn’t plead, “Save me.” He doesn’t beg, “have mercy on my soul.” Rather, he appeals to Christ as King. Why refer to his kingdom? I suppose it’s possible that he heard Jesus preach about the Kingdom of God. But it’s more likely that he simply read the sign: “Jesus of Nazareth, the King of the Jews.” The thief on the cross was saved because he read the sign and believed it’s words. The same can be true for each one of us.
Conclusion
The view from Golgotha simultaneously reveals the enormity of our sin (a sin so great that in the eyes of God it required the blood of his own Son), and the depth of God’s love for us—a love that led the King of Kings to an old rugged cross for a people who in no way deserved it.
In five short days, Christians across the globe will commemorate Christ’ crucifixion on Good Friday. Someone once asked me, “Why is called Good Friday? Shouldn’t it be called Bad Friday?” For Jesus, it was the worst Friday of his life. But you and I would never see the face of God if not for what Jesus did that Friday. That makes it a pretty good Friday for you and me.
So as we follow Jesus to Golgotha and thank him for what he did on the cross, let’s also remember these lesser gifts—the spit, the spikes, and the sign—and let these tools of torture remind you of what Jesus did for you.
Invitation
Next week, we’ll finish following Jesus through the Gospel of Mark. In the meantime, Jesus invites us to follow him to the cross. At the cross, pay special attention to the spit he bore for you, the spikes he felt for you and the sign he left for you. He did all of this for you. Before you leave the cross, he invites you to leave something at the cross. Your bad habits, your selfish moods and white lies. Every flop, every fear, every failure. He invites you to leave it all at the cross. If I can help you, please talk with me—you can talk to me after church, call me at home, or come forward now as we stand and sing. Let’s sing together.
