In just two days, I’ll celebrate the glories of Easter with exultant believers around the globe. But today, I join the family of the redeemed in remembering the price of our salvation and the love that paid it. It’s Good Friday. And this year, I’m determined not to just give token consideration to the crucifixion while on my way to basking in the glow of Christ’s resurrection. The measure of our Savior’s suffering and sacrifice deserves more than that. So, I invite you to join me in taking a fresh look at John 19:17-22.
It tells us that the blameless Son of God, having already been unjustly and severely tortured, was forced to shoulder a heavy chunk of rough-hewn timber and carry it outside Jerusalem to an infamous site known as the Place of a Skull. And there, he bore a far greater weight, the totality of humanity’s sin. John spares us the gruesome details, but we know what he meant by using the word crucified. Nails were driven into the Lord’s hands and feet to secure him to the cross he’d carried. And then, it was raised upright so crowds could gawk at his naked, bleeding body as he hung there with his precious life draining away.
As I ponder that horrible scene, I’m finding myself drawn to the juxtaposition of a couple of details I really haven’t explored before. They involve those crucified alongside Jesus that day and the sign attached to his cross. Any historical record is the product of choices made concerning what details are reported and why. So, I’m intrigued to consider the Holy Spirit’s purposes in leading John to include these.
Verse 18 says there were two others executed with Jesus. The Gospels of Matthew (27:38, 44) and Mark (15:27) describe them with a Greek word translated as robbers. But according to Vine's Expository Dictionary, the original word refers to someone “who plunders openly and by violence.” They weren’t just petty thieves. And the fact we’re told the cross of Jesus was specifically placed in the center between theirs seems to indicate something the Spirit meant to be noted.
After that, four full verses of precious textual real estate are devoted to describing the sign affixed to Jesus’ cross. It was common practice in crucifixions for a placard to be made stating the criminal’s offence and attached as a warning to observers about what happens to lawbreakers. But in this case, Pilate had repeatedly declared Jesus to be innocent. And since no crime had officially been committed, it made the composition of the sign a bit of a challenge. Regardless, the passage states that the wording was ultimately dictated by the governor himself and that he vigorously defended it against the objections of the chief priests. They wanted it to sound like an accusation not an announcement. But Pilate was adamant that it read, “Jesus of Nazareth, the King of the Jews.”
Throughout my life I’ve seen depictions of the three crosses raised on that dark day illustrated with Christ’s in the middle. But an awareness of the symbolism of that motif has never captured me as it has this Good Friday. The Father’s plan of redemption could not be accomplished from a safe distance. It required that Jesus physically step into the midst of our corruption so he could pay its penalty and deliver us from its grasp. So, it’s no surprise that the King of the Jews gave his life on a cross that was literally in the center of a group of sinners.
On this day of reflection, my heart swells with fresh perspective on and gratitude for the truth expressed in Philippians 2:7-8 that says Jesus "made Himself of no reputation, taking the form of a bondservant, and coming in the likeness of men. And being found in appearance as a man, He humbled Himself and became obedient to the point of death, even the death of the cross."