The week leading up to the death and resurrection of Jesus is one of the most heart stirring and pride smashing times in the gospel narratives. I remember as a new Christian being continually drawn back to this scene. Thankfully God has been pleased to repeatedly plunk me down at the foot of the cross to witness his glorious Son do what we neither could nor would do, that is vindicate his glory.
So this week here at Irish Calvinist we will be looking at several meditations on the Passion Week concluding on Sunday with a devotion on the resurrection. I envision this to be helpful for us as believers, for our own hearts or perhaps even to share with unbelievers. Also, it may serve to jump start some men to the practice of doing family devotions (just go home and read the passage and talk about it). And finally, if it serves to help stir other pastors’ hearts leading to this great weekend of simultaneous humiliation and exaltation through the life, death and resurrection of Jesus.
To start things off I’m including a poem I wrote in thinking about the cross, and specifically, my place there on that fateful day. It is called, “My Voice is Still Horse.”
The scene is violent, it is cold,
the source of countless stories told
Heaven’s joy stands beaten and disgraced
One from whom men hide their face
The judge emerges, off’ring his release
The raging mob strikes back with anger now increased
…..
“Crucify Him! Crucify Him!” is the uniform cry
Release to us a murderer, Just let this one die
There is a voice in the crowd that is disturbingly distinct
I hear it clear as day in my mind—I’m sure that it is me
…..
I rage and yell, for this offering,
Kill this ‘righteous’ one, get him away from me
Give me a murderer, Barabbas, yes, he will do,
He is more like me than this—“King of the Jews”
…..
He has preached of his kingdom and spoke of my sin
He has dared to look at me and order me to follow him
I’ve had enough of this guy and his claim to be the king
Give me Barabbas! Give me Barabbas! Is the song I sing
…..
Now my voice is nearly hoarse from crying for his death
I stare at his bloody brow and watch him fight for breath
He too is hoarse—but the cause is not like mine
He was bearing the hell-drenched curse for sinners such as I
…..
I see him with heavenly resolve cry out one last time
With a voice so certain and so strong I’m sure it was divine
His shout echoes still, in my ears, with the freshness of that day
“It is finished!” says this Jesus, with blood still dripping from his face
…..
I look at him much different now—for I see him as he is
The righteous Lamb of God pierced through for sinners’ sins
I look upon this bloody cross, horrified by what I see
The demands of my sin by the Law made him a curse for me
…..
He hangs dead before me, heaven’s wrath now spent
I put my hand over my mouth, for my heart is now rent
O’ the love of God to order such as course
By this cross I’m forever changed, but my voice remains still hoarse.
