The Cross: On My Behalf
I lingered at the auction from early morning until late afternoon, patiently waiting to place my bid on that old, knotty pine corner hutch. Though the piece would have little value to most, to me it was a priceless heirloom—a gift from my great-grandfather to my Granny years before I was born. A simple yet costly purchase that still spoke silently of a humble farmer’s extravagant love for his beloved bride.
I’d been looking forward to having that cherished part of my grandparents’ lives in our home. But as the auctioneer began his chant, it became apparent I wasn’t the only one with an affinity for my Granny’s hutch.
The bidding rapidly escalated and then swept past my “top-dollar” limit. My heart raced in unbelief, but I pressed forward, affirming with every nod my determination to claim that prize. But eventually, with tears of regret streaming down my face, I lowered my number and signaled “no” to the auctioneer’s insistent plea. I’d lost the battle; the only remaining piece of my Granny’s life would belong to another.
Devastated, I glanced up and met the eye of the auctioneer as he bellowed, “Sold!” He seemed to be looking at me—but no, he was looking beyond me. I turned, expecting to find the new owner of the coveted hutch, but instead, I met the tender gaze of my beloved grandfather. “The hutch is yours, girl,” he whispered, as he quietly handed me his bidding card. “I knew how much you wanted it.”
Tears flowed as I began to piece together all that had unfolded. Someone who had deeply loved me all my life had been fighting for me all along, working on my behalf, though I’d been totally unaware of it. Just as loss and utter defeat seemed to have won the last word, my defender was revealed.
The last week of Jesus’ life must have seemed similar to those who followed Him. With every fiber of their being they believed He was the Messiah. Their hearts found peace knowing the prophecies foretold that their Messiah would also be the conquering King.
Yet before their eyes, Jesus was being horrifically humiliated. He had been wrongfully condemned by several kangaroo courts and subjected repeatedly to public shaming. Maligned, brutally scourged, He was ultimately put to death by crucifixion.
Why?
Why was Jesus not defending Himself?
Why had the Rescuer not rescued Himself?
Why was our Messiah not putting an end to this dreadful atrocity?
Why was a brutal, hate-filled humanity allowed to lead the Promised One as a lamb to the slaughter?
To limited eyes that can only see what’s temporal, it seemed as if all was lost—that nothing remained but indescribable loss and utter defeat. But sin and death would not have the final word. Concealed from the disciples’ human eyes, a battle of magnificent proportions was being waged and won for all eternity. The Father was redeeming those enslaved by sin through the crushing of Jesus, our Messiah.
No one rescued Jesus from the suffering that purchased our redemption. No one came to His defense. No, He chose to suffer so that the price for our sin would be paid in full. Even now, He is conspiring for our good.
Hallelujah, our Defender has come!
Text: Isaiah 50:1-11, Isaiah 51:1-23, Isaiah 52:1-15, Matthew 27:26-31, John 16:33
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