Do you realize the suffering that Jesus Christ endured for you? The horror of the scourge? As a paramedic I have seen a lot of cruelty, vile cases and a lot of senseless blood, but I have never seen anything to compare with this. Never!
“Spread his arms,” the chief guard roared. “That’s it, now lash them tight. Tight, I said! Tighter!”
He knew what was coming, and the anticipation alone would have been enough to make most men cry for mercy, but not Jesus. He stood like a man. He knew what he needed to do and he did it. He loved us that much.
“Ha! You call yourself a king?” the chief guard growled. “Let’s see what you got!”
Can you picture it? The King of Kings tied to a splintered post? His hands and arms bound with leather straps? An angry mob pushing in on him, longing to see him bleed? You know Jesus told his disciples how he would die—that he would be handed over to the Gentiles, mocked, insulted, spat upon, flogged, and crucified—but they didn’t understood what he meant. Are you beginning to?
The scourgers readied themelves, one to each side, each with an evil grin on his face and a cat-of-nine-tails in his hand. But these men were not simple savages, hungry animals longing to devour human flesh; they were artists. Roman soldiers skilled in the art of torture. They used practiced precision. Inflicted maximum pain. It was a well rehearsed performance, a punishment equal to the crime.
“Ready,” the guard shouted. “Proceed!”
The first scourger stepped forward gripping his lethal weapon. “King of the Jews, huh? Take this, your majesty!”
With all of his might he swung the wicked instrument. The deadly thongs whipped through the air and struck with exacting purpose, ripping and tearing at Christ’s bare flesh. Blood spewed from his wounds. His body writhed with pain. The scourger stepped back grinning and the second one stepped in, repeating the brutal onslaught as if part of a terrible game. And back and forth they went with their sick, sadistic sport, whipping and lashing, and lashing and whipping, and on and on and on…
Christ’s flesh fell away in bloody chunks leaving behind a mural of horrible stripes. His butchered skin swelled and oozed, capillary beds leaked within, and soon hemorrhagic shock began, setting into motion a downward spiral that would ultimately lead to death. Yes, Jesus probably would have died from these wounds alone, but his time had not yet come. He still had one task to complete.
“Enough,” the chief guard roared quickly tiring of the game. “Cut him down. He’s done.”
The soldiers cut Jesus loose. He stood on shaky legs, his physical body robbed of strength, his spirit pushed to its near limit.
“Here,” a guard bellowed stepping forward and placing a purple robe across his back, “a garment fit for a king.”
“No, take mine!” Another guard shoved a crown of twisted thorns upon Christ’s head. “Behold, your majesty—your crown!” And then someone placed a shepherd’s staff in his hands. And they dropped to their knees in a show of mock respect. And they went on with their cruel taunting, mocking and scorning and laughing and striking him with their fists, and then snatching the staff and hitting him over the head with it again and again to drive the needle sharp thorns deep into his scalp. “Hail, King of the Jews,” they shouted. “Hail!”
He could have broken loose at any time and called a thousand angels to come and stand by his side, but Christ chose to remain. To take the punishment. For he understood that you and I needed a savior, and that without his sacrifice we would have been lost forever. He chose to accept our punishment, a lashing to the point of near death. But the scourging was just the beginning of his ordeal, the worst was yet to come—a wooden cross, a terrible lonesome walk up a hill called Golgatha, and three iron spikes to ensure an excruciating death.
Jesus loves you more than you could ever know. So this Easter morning, as you consider your salvation and rejoice in the meaning of everlasting life, remember the price that Christ paid for your sins. The gruesome, painful torture that he endured. But remember, too, that after all of the blood and suffering, the mockery and humilitation, and the last gasping breaths of a dying man nailed to a cross, there came victory. Total victory. For Christ arose, and in doing so, he defeated death once and for all.
Yes, he arose. Hallelujah, Jesus Christ arose!
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