On a Friday morning almost 2,000 years ago the world came literally to a crossroads.
I can remember hearing the (again literally) excruciating details of the Crucifixion for the first time. The preacher had a replica of a Roman crucifixion nail. The heft and size of it alone caused my stomach to clutch. He then dispassionately explained in almost clinical terms what Jesus experienced that morning.
I cannot fathom the pain and suffering he went through. To my mind, though, there is something even more moving.
As Jesus hung on the cross, some in the gathered crowd added to the pain by taunting him.
People walking by insulted him, shaking their heads and saying, “Ha! So you were going to destroy the temple and rebuild it in three days, were you? Save yourself and come down from that cross!”
No doubt, the Jesus who walked on water and raised Lazarus from the dead could have done just that. But he didn’t. He chose to stick with it to the finish.
Given the power of Jesus Christ, it took more power to stay on that cross than to come down from it. Thank about what that means for you and me.
Peace.