I heard it whispered, "I KILLED Christ."
I was driving to the Christmas production my church was having. Done with finals, last show of the week, and then some much needed down time. So, I dont remember what was playing on the radio or what all was going on around me, but I heard this whisper. Subtle, soft, but clearer than anything I had come across my ears in a while...
"I killed Christ, the least I could do after that is give Him my life in return."
Funny thing is I could hardly catch my breath after that, not so great for operating a vehicle Im sure. Over and over again I kept hearing those words, like having a song on repeat but you cant seem to make that skip button work anymore... "I killed Christ...I killed Christ... I killed Christ." Still as clear and as audible as the first time. Walking into church that night I didn't really know what to do with this murderous thought that kept coming to my mind.
Over the past week different moments have brought it back to mind. Pondered for minutes chalked up to hours now. What does it mean to have murdered the Savior of humanity, the Son of God, the King of everything? No, I was not alive 2,000 years ago for the day He felt the lashing of the whip across His back, for the weight of the cross upon his bruised and beaten shoulders, the nails as big as my hand being driven into His, or the final moments when He breathed His last. Why am I still hearing those words? Why?
Perhaps its because there is something to Jesus dying on the cross that has a whole lot more to do with whats in my own heart than the actual hands that hung Him up there. For all of my shining moments in life, the ones I think deserve a small parade of fanfare or at the very least a small gold star that shines for the world to see, they can quite pale in comparison to the depth of sin I was born into or that has become reality in my daily life.
I can look into Scripture and find people I relate to in many ways, the best of them like David and Daniel, Hannah and Ruth, noble prophets and maybe even some of the disciples. But thats not really it, is it?
I am also Adam and Eve covering my shame and nakedness with some leaves
I am Lot choosing Sodom and Gomorra as my home, sweet home
I am the scoffers and laughing faces while Noah built the Ark
I am the Israelites running to and fro from selfish desires to idol worship to maybe God again
I am the prophets of Baal crying out to a false God on the side of a mountain
I am Gomer, selling who I am to the highest bidder, whomever or whatever that may be
I am the religious leaders with lies, accusations, false testimonies, and a whitewashed tomb like heart
I am Judas, exchanging 30 pieces of silver for a soul
I am the crowd that day who knew no other words than, "Crucify Him."
I am Barabbas accused of the worst of crimes, but exchanged
I am the thief to the one side, mocking and deriding Him
I am them, and they are me, because we all killed Him, with every sin and evil desire, every action against the holiness of God, sending Christ to His death on the cross 2,000 years ago.
I was watching this tv show a few days ago. It came to a scene with two people sitting across from each other at a kitchen table. One was a man who lost the woman he loved because she was murdered. The other was a woman, the one who did the murdering of the woman that was loved. He looked at her as she said, "I am the one who killed her." There was also a gun there, able to enact a punishment that to any would be justified for the crime. As the woman sat and declared all the reasons why she took that life, he put his hand on the gun and she stopped and whispered, "Do what you have to do." The scene pauses for a few brief moments and then he pulls his hand away from the thing that would hand out justice, and with tears in his eyes simply says, "I forgive you."
As I sat there, with the breath knocked out of me from the scene I just witnessed, I realized that it was all true. This was the story of Jesus Christ and myself, of the Savior and all of humanity. Yes, I killed Christ, you killed Christ, our sin demanded His life on the cross. He could have chose another way, the way that was right and just and fitting for our crime, but He chose the greatest act of compassion and mercy, and whispered back, "I forgive you."
All I did was put Him there. He went without a fight. The least I could do for this kind of love, the unrighteous for the righteous, is give Him back my bought and paid for life.
"Therefore, since we have been justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ. Through him we have also obtained access by faith into this grace in which we stand, and we rejoice in hope of the glory of God.... For while we were still weak, at the right time Christ died for the ungodly. For one will scarcely die for a righteous person--though perhaps for a good person one would dare even to die-- but God shows his love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us." Romans 5:1-2, 6-8
"I killed Christ, the least I could do after that is give Him my life in return."
Funny thing is I could hardly catch my breath after that, not so great for operating a vehicle Im sure. Over and over again I kept hearing those words, like having a song on repeat but you cant seem to make that skip button work anymore... "I killed Christ...I killed Christ... I killed Christ." Still as clear and as audible as the first time. Walking into church that night I didn't really know what to do with this murderous thought that kept coming to my mind.
Over the past week different moments have brought it back to mind. Pondered for minutes chalked up to hours now. What does it mean to have murdered the Savior of humanity, the Son of God, the King of everything? No, I was not alive 2,000 years ago for the day He felt the lashing of the whip across His back, for the weight of the cross upon his bruised and beaten shoulders, the nails as big as my hand being driven into His, or the final moments when He breathed His last. Why am I still hearing those words? Why?
Perhaps its because there is something to Jesus dying on the cross that has a whole lot more to do with whats in my own heart than the actual hands that hung Him up there. For all of my shining moments in life, the ones I think deserve a small parade of fanfare or at the very least a small gold star that shines for the world to see, they can quite pale in comparison to the depth of sin I was born into or that has become reality in my daily life.
I can look into Scripture and find people I relate to in many ways, the best of them like David and Daniel, Hannah and Ruth, noble prophets and maybe even some of the disciples. But thats not really it, is it?
I am also Adam and Eve covering my shame and nakedness with some leaves
I am Lot choosing Sodom and Gomorra as my home, sweet home
I am the scoffers and laughing faces while Noah built the Ark
I am the Israelites running to and fro from selfish desires to idol worship to maybe God again
I am the prophets of Baal crying out to a false God on the side of a mountain
I am Gomer, selling who I am to the highest bidder, whomever or whatever that may be
I am the religious leaders with lies, accusations, false testimonies, and a whitewashed tomb like heart
I am Judas, exchanging 30 pieces of silver for a soul
I am the crowd that day who knew no other words than, "Crucify Him."
I am Barabbas accused of the worst of crimes, but exchanged
I am the thief to the one side, mocking and deriding Him
I am them, and they are me, because we all killed Him, with every sin and evil desire, every action against the holiness of God, sending Christ to His death on the cross 2,000 years ago.
I was watching this tv show a few days ago. It came to a scene with two people sitting across from each other at a kitchen table. One was a man who lost the woman he loved because she was murdered. The other was a woman, the one who did the murdering of the woman that was loved. He looked at her as she said, "I am the one who killed her." There was also a gun there, able to enact a punishment that to any would be justified for the crime. As the woman sat and declared all the reasons why she took that life, he put his hand on the gun and she stopped and whispered, "Do what you have to do." The scene pauses for a few brief moments and then he pulls his hand away from the thing that would hand out justice, and with tears in his eyes simply says, "I forgive you."
As I sat there, with the breath knocked out of me from the scene I just witnessed, I realized that it was all true. This was the story of Jesus Christ and myself, of the Savior and all of humanity. Yes, I killed Christ, you killed Christ, our sin demanded His life on the cross. He could have chose another way, the way that was right and just and fitting for our crime, but He chose the greatest act of compassion and mercy, and whispered back, "I forgive you."All I did was put Him there. He went without a fight. The least I could do for this kind of love, the unrighteous for the righteous, is give Him back my bought and paid for life.
"Therefore, since we have been justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ. Through him we have also obtained access by faith into this grace in which we stand, and we rejoice in hope of the glory of God.... For while we were still weak, at the right time Christ died for the ungodly. For one will scarcely die for a righteous person--though perhaps for a good person one would dare even to die-- but God shows his love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us." Romans 5:1-2, 6-8
Comments
Post a Comment