Good Friday

¹⁶ Then the soldiers led Him away into the hall called Praetorium, and they called together the whole garrison. ¹⁷ And they clothed Him with purple; and they twisted a crown of thorns, put it on His head, ¹⁸ and began to salute Him, “Hail, King of the Jews!” ¹⁹ Then they struck Him on the head with a reed and spat on Him; and bowing the knee, they worshiped Him. ²⁰ And when they had mocked Him, they took the purple off Him, put His own clothes on Him, and led Him out to crucify Him. 

- Mark 15:16-20

     Always a saddening reminder of the agony Christ went through for a sinner like me. This time of year always makes me slow down and remember just how much Jesus suffered. In moments like this, I think the mockery was more difficult than the physical pain. I cannot even fathom the Creator allowing His creation to spit on Him, beat Him, and mock Him. How difficult that must have been. When I take the time to reflect on my Lord's sufferings, my perspective tends to be where it needs to be. As Easter approaches, let us not forget the sacrifice that was given so many years ago.

     The challenge I receive from this passage is on a whole different level, however. These verses make me look inside and question my view of Jesus. I think I am often caught up with an "image" of Christ that is made up of my own ideals and thoughts. I often become one of these Roman soldiers. I strip Jesus of His true "clothing" and dress Him up in purple robes. I make Him look like someone He is not to suit my own needs or desires. I put a crown of thorns upon Him as I make Him Lord of something He is not. I use Him as a reason for my actions but it is in name only. I hit Him and and cause Him pain through my sinfulness and unfaithfulness. I spit in His face and shame Him as I drag His name through the mud with my selfish, ungodly living. I bow my knee and worship, yet sometimes it is nothing more than a mockery of true worship. I worship because of a sense of duty. I worship in hope of getting some blessing in return. I worship as a show for others. I mock Him with my hypocrisy. And just as He did on that fateful day in the past, my Lord silently stands and takes the punishment. He allows my blasphemous behavior as He patiently works out my redemption. He forgives, and continues His plan to change my heart to be like His. He doesn't use the power at His disposal to strike me down, He uses His power to mold me and shape me. My Lord worked the greatest of all miracles on Good Friday and He hasn't stopped working miracles on this Friday, over two thousand years later.