" The men who were guarding Jesus began mocking and beating Him. They blindfolded Him and demanded, " Prophesy!" Who hit you?" And they said many other insulting things to Him.
(Luke 22:63-65)
This is the passage I started reading on this Good Friday morning. Something stopped me from reading further, but to go through it over and over again to picture the scene in my mind. Here stood my Lord, the Son of God, the Prince of Peace before Him all knees would bow down one day, as a prisoner, hands bound, being mocked and beaten by mere men, servants of the Roman regime.
Abandoned by His disciples, followers, family and those whom He loved enough to heal, the Sovereign Lord stood alone amidst the mocking crowd without uttering a word to defend Himself. A word from Him would have brought down the heavenly angels for His rescue and revealed His true identity to the mocking men. But that wasn't our Lord's style. He never tried to impress human beings and prove Himself by doing amazing things. Remember, that's what Satan tried to make Him do when he tempted Him in the wilderness soon after His baptism in the Jordan river. Then and there, the Son of God snapped back at the devil saying, "Do not put the Lord Your God to the test." Jesus had been firm on His statement from the start of His ministry and He was not going to back down from it just to save Himself from pain and humiliation.
After all, Jesus knew before hand what was in for Him for the next couple of days. Yes, His flesh pleaded with the Father in the garden of Gethsemane to remove the predestined suffering if possible. But when He found peace with His Father's will, He knew far too well that no amount of suffering nor humiliation would keep Him back.
So, instead of getting angry with those who were mocking Him, Jesus must have felt sorry for them. After all, they were just the tools of their masters and they were doing what they were doing best to show off their authority and power. What a vast contrast between the human and divine perceptive of authority. Here stood the King of kings who orchestrated the establishment of the universe silent without using His authority while servants of Roman regime showing off their authority in their time of opportunity. No wonder Jesus declared that unless a man is born again, he cannot see the kingdom of God. Unless those men had eyes to see who Jesus was really, they could act only in the way they knew to act. Jesus knew that. That's why on the cross, He prayed, " Father, forgive them for they do not know what they are doing." He must have prayed for all those who cried out and demanded Him to be crucified, those spat on His face, mocked and laughed at Him all the way to the cross, those who slashed His back with whips and nailed Him on the cross.
Surely it was painful torture Jesus underwent to redeem the world. His precious blood was needed as an atonement, It was a priceless sacrifice made out of love, even for those who beat and humiliated Him beyond measure. Their acts may have grieved Jesus and brought much pain. But He refused to give into anger and pass judgement on them. Instead, He understood their human nature and prayed out to His father to forgive them. What more do we need to prove Him divine? Who else in human form had ever displayed such love as what was showed on the cross at Calvary on that Friday two thousand years ago?***
Today, we call it Good Friday in its remembrance. As a child, I used to wonder why they didn't call it Bad Friday because Jesus died on that day. I was not mature enough at that age to realize that Good News was spread and goodness was berthed because of what happened on that Friday.
Strangely Good Friday is not a public holiday in California where I live now. It's my off day, so I didn't need to go to work. To make it convenient for all to attend, our Good Friday service is schedule at 6;30 pm.
I always cherish the memory of attending Good Friday and Easter services while I was growing up. As a teenager and a new born again believer, I used to be a vegetarian throughout the lent season and fast all day on Good Friday till I return back from church service that evening.
Even though I grew up in a Hindu neighborhood and Buddhist country, we, the handful of Christians living in our neighborhood observed these day with great piety and servitude at a nearby American Mission built country church with high steeple beautiful stained windows. A huge bell gonged loud enough three times before every church service so that the churchgoers in the neighborhood could hear and walk down to the church on time.
Good Friday service at our country church usually started at 3pm and went for three hours straight in order to bring remembrance of the three hours Jesus hung on the cross. I can still hear in my ears the sweet voice of our church's nightingale, Sakuntala, singing songs on the passion of Christ and playing her violin solemnly.
With a pin drop silence hovering in the sanctuary, all eyes closed and knees bent, the songs and prayers truly lifted us up to view the scene in our minds. The pastor along with guest preachers focused their sermons mainly on the seven words Christ uttered on the cross.
No one complained or left half-way of the three hour service. We didn't have any high school ministry at church to keep us teenagers occupied during the service. So we all attended the one and only service provided. Instead of drums and guitars, we had organ and violin as accompaniment when we sang hymns. When collection plates were passed around,coins of 5, 10, 25 cents equivalent to pennies were mostly put, rarely more valuable rupees.
I've attended Good Friday services at many churches in different countries in my life. But nothing brings me so much rich memories as the ones I had at the simple American Mission built church in my hometown in 1960s. There was so much depth and reverence in the worship that impacted all who attended.
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