Luke 22: 39-----

He crosses the valley and makes His way to the Mount of Olives. His disciples follow close behind. He stops at a place just short of His original destination; tells His disciples to wait here and pray, then makes the rest of the trek to Gethsemane alone. When he arrives, He postures Himself by bowing to His knees with face to the ground. He calls out to His Father in urgency. He knows there is not much time. There are only a few moments that separate Him from a bloodthirsty crowd. Soon He will be taken by merciless hands to be delivered unto a cruel people who have no value whatsoever for human life.

He can feel the hated that emanates from those who have already assembled for the purpose of his destruction. All he sees at this moment in time is a Roman cross on the morning’s horizon.

Dread fills his entire being. He groans in His Spirit. He swoons and moans in His humanity. Low guttural sounds radiate from deep within His throat. He seeks His Father’s face once more. Can there be some other way?  Then He remembers the covenant that was made before his incarnation; the great Everlasting Covenant that would allow His beloved people, though sinful and undeserving, to inherit the purity of His heaven. The only way this can be accomplished is that He takes their sins upon Him; that He becomes sin for them; that He becomes them and takes their judgment upon himself, and then dies in their stead. Suddenly, with no further thought, the words fill his soul and fall from His lips, “Not my will, my Father, but Thine be done”

 A good friend from his home “country” comes and stands beside Him. One last familiar visitor to comfort and reassure Him before his sentence is carried out; Jesus knows him well. He is a friend whom He created and has known since before He shaped the world from nothingness; He is strengthened and comforted by his words and presence.

He foresees all that lies before Him, yet He does not scream for mercy or call on the heavenly host to deliver Him, as well he could. He agonizes while fully accepting His original purpose for coming into this strange and alien land. The night is cold , yet He sweats profusely, the unmentionable pressure he is experiencing causes his blood vessels under his skin to burst, forcing the life giving crimson fluid to ooze from the pores of His body, then fall to the ground

Suddenly there are sounds wafting on the breeze; noises in the distance; the muttering of far away voices; the rattling of staves; the clanging of swords. He lifts His head to see the flickering of the many torches as they move his way from the valley below. He arises and walks the short distance back to where his friends are now asleep. He speaks telling them to go ahead and sleep,  but they are awakened by the clamor; startled they leap to their feet.

A mob comes near. He does not turn to run, but waits on an event He has rehearsed in eternity. Then it happens. One whom He has befriended steps forward and places a kiss on his cheek, still damp from the tears.  A startled and angry disciple takes a defensive pose, draws a long knife and swings. He misses the neck he has targeted and hits the head instead; cutting off the top half of an ear. Yet, even in the dread of death and despair, compassion takes precedence. The ear is touched by innocent hands. The blood is stayed. No longer can any wound can be found.

He is dragged away by His own people. Beating, scourging, mocking, spitting, slapping, and blasphemy will soon be all that is left for Him in life. Not long after this, the sun,  the great master of light, will scatter any sign of darkness; the morning will break, and then that dreaded cross will come into view; the cross that is the reason for His being born; for his being here in the first place; the cross that has forever stood between the eternities;  the cross that was seen by the Children of Israel in the form of a serpent on a pole, the cross to which His prophets of old had pointed, in what was then their future; the cross that King David described so vividly in his prophetic songs; the cross that would be preached in every generation that would follow for all time.

This rugged cross on which the Son of Man would exhale His last breath of humanity would become the only hope of the wellspring of life for us.

In that old rugged cross, stained with blood so divine,
A wondrous beauty I see,
For ’twas on that old cross Jesus suffered and died,
To pardon and sanctify me.

Do we worship the cross? I will reply with an emphatic NO! That old Cross of wood has long ago become only dust. No we do not worship that cross, we worship Him who died on that Cross. The Cross was the Altar on which He was sacrificed for our sins. The work of Jesus Christ that was accomplished on the cross is what we as Christians accept as the atonement for our sin.  It was His death on that cross that redeemed us from death and eternal punishment. It was His death on that cross that secured our home in heaven.

The cross was necessary for our hope of life, but let it be shouted from the highest hill that we worship only our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.

Sam Everett