our ugly made Beautiful

Apr 23, 2011 | The Good Word

If you take some time to ponder crucifixion, to research the how’s and why’s of this type of capital punishment, you might come to the conclusion that it’s pretty close to humanity at its worst. It was a method of execution used by a few people groups (including the Romans) from around the 6th century BC to the 4th century AD. The Romans would only hang slaves, pirates and enemies of the state — Roman citizens were generally exempt from such a humiliating execution, except in cases of high treason.

The excruciating pain of being nailed to a cross — often with nails driven through hands and feet — left a person suffering a slow and very painful death. {The term excruciating actually means “out of crucifying.”} Crucifixions were very public executions, meant to be a deterrent, that people might consider the consequential punishment before stepping out of line in the eyes of the government.

Depending on the specific methods used, a person could survive for several hours or even a number of days after being crucified. A platform placed under the feet, supporting the victim’s weight, prolonged the process. Blood loss, shock, or sepsis (caused by infection from the scourging that often preceded crucifixion) were possible causes of death. When things were dragging out past the liking of the executioners, the legs of those being crucified were often broken in order to hasten death.

The more you consider it, the more difficult you might find it to see anything beautiful.

While today we might know how to make capital punishment speedy and less abrasive to our minds and hearts (death by lethal injection, for example) the Romans knew how to make death long, drawn out, and nothing short of excruciating.

Could God take something so ugly — one of the most horrible tortures which has systematically been used as a method of killing — and make it beautiful?

According to historians, many victims of crucifixion were naked. Humiliation accompanied the painful torture: if they needed to urinate or defecate, they had to do so on full and public display. And doing so would probably attract flies and insects that, being bound to a cross, they would be unable to deter.

In many ways the crucifixion of Jesus seemed like a textbook, painful, humiliating, ugly execution. Every gospel mentions the soldiers bartering for His clothing before His death, which may indicate He experienced the humiliating torture naked, as many others experienced it.

For at least three hours He hung there, as the sky darkened in the hours of the day that are usually the brightest. Mocked by passers-by, spit on and put to shame.

If you are who you say you are, save yourself.

We are perhaps at our ugliest as human beings, when we torture one another, and we are perhaps just as ugly when we willingly watch, consenting and even mocking the dying.

What seemed like a textbook crucifixion gradually proved to be anything but. Pilate hung a sign above Jesus’ cross which read in Hebrew, Greek and Latin: “This is Jesus, The King of the Jews.” The Jews argued about this, and asked Pilate to change it to say “He said, ‘I am the King of the Jews.’ ” But Pilate refused with the reply:

“What I have written, I have written.”

In language universally plain, the Truth was ironically declared above a dying Saviour– He was indeed more than the King of the Jews. He is rightfully the King of Kings.

The King of Kings who stepped down from heaven to live with us and die for us. The only One who would. The only One who could. God put on our ugliness to give us beautiful.

Like others who’d been crucified before Him, even the others crucified that day, He bled and suffered. But only He asked God to forgive His mockers and executioners.

Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they do.

Only Jesus accomplished the work He intended to accomplish: He suffered for you and for me. Death for Him is life for all who believe.

It is finished!

Only Jesus hung there for the salvation of mankind, and made even His executioners marvel as He cried out to His Father, proclaimed the work finished, and with a shout — committing His Spirit to the Father — breathed His last. The Centurion would’ve witnessed many deaths, but what he saw in the death of Jesus convinced him of the truth:

Certainly this was a righteous man!

Only Jesus didn’t need to be broken — when the legs of the criminals on either side of Him were broken to hasten death — He was already broken. The broken Bread of Life, the Blood shed for forgiveness: Jesus was broken for you and for me.

Pilate marveled that He was already dead.

He who knew no sin became sin for us, that we might become the righteousness of God.

We who were once far off — hopelessly begging at the roadside of eternity — have been brought near. By accepting the finished work of the cross, receiving the forgiveness Jesus bought for us, with His own life, the ugliness of our sin is wiped clean. And in receiving the forgiveness bought on the cross, God looks at us and sees us wearing His Son’s righteousness — like the tunic the soldiers cast lots for, because it was a seamless one-piece and tearing it would mean ruining it — so our broken lives become whole, one-piece. Seamlessly glorious to God.

The ugliness of crucifixion makes way for the beauty of redemption. The beauty of salvation. The beautiful reconciliation. One-piece wholeness for you and for me, bought by the One who was broken.

And though the Cross may symbolize the ugliness of humanity at its worst, crucifying the One who came to set us free, to fix our broken world, to reconcile us to our Creator God, yet the Cross is still at the same time wholly beautiful.

Without it, we are hopeless. But through it, the veil is torn — we now have Christ in us, the Hope of Glory, the anchor for our souls. Our broken lives are made whole — only because of the Cross.

And that is how a Good, Loving and Redeeming God took the ugliness of the Cross and the ugliness of our souls, and created a thing of beauty.

Oh, the wonderful Cross! Oh the wonderful Cross,
bids me come and die, and find that I
may truly live.

Jesus, thank You for the Cross.

When You’re in Between

Apr 21, 2011 | The Good Word

Sometimes the most uncomfortable seasons in life seem to be the transitiony ones. The In Between. {But not the Jack Johnson type of In Between.} I mean the seasons where the soon-to-be is not yet, but the what-once-was is already slipping by. And you find yourself in this middle ground that you sometimes forgot about or didn’t think to expect — it doesn’t have a name and it wasn’t on the calendar, but, well, here it is, and being in it feels itchy and makes it hard for your heart to sit still.

Life is sort of in-between for me in a few different arenas right now. An obvious and simple example is my closet. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not pregnant anymore. Translation: when I wear my maternity jeans, they generally slide down my backside and I have to try to pull them up again with a very ladylike hoist every five minutes. When I wear the wonderful maternity tops that my Mom blessed me with, I either still look pregnant or just … like all that baking I’ve been doing has finally caught up with me.

But I’m sure you can guess why this is a transitional season. Even when you have your baby after about nine minutes of active labour, you still won’t fit into your old clothes next week. The human body, as it should, takes time to transition to the new you, which can hopefully still fit into some of the old you’s clothes eventually.

If you try to push yourself to lose the extra weight too quickly, you are likely to end up fatigued, struggling with a poor milk supply if you’re nursing, perhaps even sick or injured, and in the end you’ll probably need more transition time. You have to trust the process and take the time, remembering that seasons always pass.

Do you ever feel like you’ve done the hard work and caught the wave, and the beautiful sunny shore is there in front of you, clearly approaching, but you’re still on your surfboard, and you need to navigate the waters with poise and balance?

Just me, huh?

My guess is I’m not the only one who feels “transitiony” right now. Though it’s a challenge, I’m doing my best to stay on my board and ride the wave with some of a slice of poise and a dash of balance, and I thought I’d share a few thoughts in case you’re here, (or for when you find yourself here) too.

These are principles with some practical applications — as they apply to my situation… Ahem.

Principle: Do your best to find some thankfulness to frame the moment.
Practical Application: Be thankful for the new baby instead of focusing on the spare tire lumped around your waist. Be thankful that you have clothing to wear. Be thankful that you can walk and exercise and that you have food to eat. Focus on being thankful!

Principle: Although you can’t force the transition, you can do things to prepare yourself for the next season.
Practical Application: Begin putting away the maternity clothes that just don’t fit, and perhaps even clearing the closet of clothes that you haven’t worn since before your firstborn arrived on the scene. Positive change feels like progress, even if you’re still in transition. Look for things you can accomplish now, which will give you a sense of control and perhaps set you a little more at ease. {Now’s the time to encourage your brain to figure out how this applies to your situation, because my guess is a good number of you are NOT in my particular boat.}

Principle: Remind yourself that for everything (turn, turn, turn) there is a season — there is a time for every purpose under heaven. {Eccl. 3:1} Translation: there is a reason you are in this season right now.
Practical Application: Instead of focusing on what you’re waiting for, think about where you are now, and what you should perhaps be learning right now. Thankfulness is a good lesson to start with, but I am certain there is more. It may be that the Lord is waiting for you to get it before the season turns.

Those are a few thoughts on how I’ve been riding the transition wave, toes on the nose, hair blowing in the winds of change…and I’m managing to stay on the board!

What works for you when you feel in between?

Or is it really just me?

xCC