Seeing and Hearing Are Not Enough
“Two other men, both criminals, were also led out with him to be executed. When they came to the place called the Skull, there they crucified him, along with the criminals--one on his right, the other on his left. Jesus said, ‘Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing’ " (Luke 23:32-34).
It began with flogging. Roman soldiers fashioned a leather whip studded with small rocks and bone. Every blow against their backs ripped open new strips of skin. Their muscles and tendons quickly turned into a mass of quivering, bleeding flesh. Most prisoners died of shock and blood loss long before being nailed to the cross.
At the execution site, soldiers laid crosses on the ground and threw the men onto them. The seven-inch spikes hammered through their wrists and feet tore through exquisitely sensitive nerves. Electrifying pain exploded along their arms and legs.
As they hung between heaven and earth, breathing became an all-consuming struggle as gravity restricted their respiratory muscles. Each man had to push against his feet and flex his arms to breathe, but every movement intensified the strain on their ravaged nerves. Adding to their torment, each breath forced their backs against the splintered wood, reopening the raw wounds. Every breath, every movement, every moment on the cross only inflamed their anguish.
For hours, they hung there. And for hours, the two thieves watched the One in the middle. They heard His groans, His complaint of thirst, His concern for His mother’s care, His prayer for his tormentors, and His cry, “Father, why have you forsaken me?”
Nothing escaped their notice.
But only one was changed -- and to that one, Jesus turned and promised, "I tell you the truth, today you will be with me in paradise."
Fast-forward two thousand years. Each Sunday we see and hear the Lord. We see Him in the communion elements. We hear Him in hymns, choruses and the preached word. He reminds us of His presence beside us in the liturgies, the furnishings, the prayers.
And some remain unmoved. And some are changed.
Lord, change me! May I never be too busy with my own suffering, self-righteousness and justification, anger and bitterness, to surrender myself and my sins to the Lordship of Jesus. Help me always be like the thief who repented.
Rich
rnmaffeo@aol.com
It began with flogging. Roman soldiers fashioned a leather whip studded with small rocks and bone. Every blow against their backs ripped open new strips of skin. Their muscles and tendons quickly turned into a mass of quivering, bleeding flesh. Most prisoners died of shock and blood loss long before being nailed to the cross.
At the execution site, soldiers laid crosses on the ground and threw the men onto them. The seven-inch spikes hammered through their wrists and feet tore through exquisitely sensitive nerves. Electrifying pain exploded along their arms and legs.
As they hung between heaven and earth, breathing became an all-consuming struggle as gravity restricted their respiratory muscles. Each man had to push against his feet and flex his arms to breathe, but every movement intensified the strain on their ravaged nerves. Adding to their torment, each breath forced their backs against the splintered wood, reopening the raw wounds. Every breath, every movement, every moment on the cross only inflamed their anguish.
For hours, they hung there. And for hours, the two thieves watched the One in the middle. They heard His groans, His complaint of thirst, His concern for His mother’s care, His prayer for his tormentors, and His cry, “Father, why have you forsaken me?”
Nothing escaped their notice.
But only one was changed -- and to that one, Jesus turned and promised, "I tell you the truth, today you will be with me in paradise."
Fast-forward two thousand years. Each Sunday we see and hear the Lord. We see Him in the communion elements. We hear Him in hymns, choruses and the preached word. He reminds us of His presence beside us in the liturgies, the furnishings, the prayers.
And some remain unmoved. And some are changed.
Lord, change me! May I never be too busy with my own suffering, self-righteousness and justification, anger and bitterness, to surrender myself and my sins to the Lordship of Jesus. Help me always be like the thief who repented.
Rich
rnmaffeo@aol.com
posted by rich at
11:48 AM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home