At Pentecost Peter's voice raised a sword that cut the Jewish nation to the heart: "Therefore ... know with certainty that God has made him both Lord and Messiah, this Jesus whom you crucified" (Acts 2:36 NRSV). Aghast at the charge, 3,000 cried out for mercy.
That same sword pierces my heart. My sins, yes mine, crucified the Son of God. I wasn't at the cross, and yet I was. What they did every sinner would have done, if not restrained by the Spirit. So what hope have I, whose sins crucified the Son of God? Atonement for me? Is it possible?
Earlier, Peter made a profound statement: "This Jesus, delivered up according to the definite plan and foreknowledge of God, you crucified and killed by the hands of lawless men" (Acts 2:23 RSV).
Why? How could God give His only begotten Son into the hands of those wretched and debased men? Why would Christ willingly do such a thing, even with His Father's permission?
Let it be noted that evil men inflicted on Christ the very justice they deserved themselves! Yet, in the very act of allowing His innocent Son into their evil hands, God forges the grace that alone can redeem the human race.
So here is the glorious reason to the "why." We sinners were allowed to treat Jesus as we deserved, so we may be treated as He deserves! This is grace! Undeserved. Unmerited. Unwarranted. Incomprehensible. This is holy ground. Standing in His grace, I worship here.
Out of His heart of love this grace hurls itself into the awful pain and darkness of the cross. Love ignited our salvation and grace will finish it. Even now, God's grace holds back His own justice. Why? So I can find safety under His mighty wings.
Yet, God did not force wicked men to crucify Christ. He did not need to. Evil is predictable. Sin always plumbs the depths of degradation. The cross warns me of where sin, unchecked, will take me.
Yet, at the cross, while sin did its worst, the dying Son of God gave birth to grace. Bursting from the cross, its shining brilliance filled not just my heart and this little world, but the whole universe. What contrast, what mystery, what love.
In those terrible hours that Jesus hung on the cross, human destiny hung suspended over Heaven and hell. "There sin took hold of love and love took hold of sin" (The Crises of the Christ, p. 305). One would lose, and one would win—forever.
As love and sin sank struggling beneath the dark waters of the dying Jesus, we hear their tortured battle in the words, "My God, My God, why hast thou forsaken me?" (Mark 15:34). God the Father separated from His only begotten Son—because of my sins? It is too much. I watch, but I cannot comprehend. But my sins and my sinfulness, how I hate them for what they have done!
Today, we sing "Amazing Grace" in the glare of Hollywood's lights. Yet, grace was birthed in agony during the darkness of the cross. Here, grace forces me to become sober and silent at the site of the raw, ugly, hideous face of sin. Never again can I take sin lightly or see it as superficial.
On the other hand, in those lightening bolts illumining the cross, I see grace bursting like living water out of the throne of God. With irresistible might it gushes over my wounded and broken heart. It immerses the world. No one is left untouched.
It was Jesus, "the King of the Jews" (Mark 15:26), who was nailed to that cross. We did not like His preaching: "Repent: for the kingdom of heaven is at hand" (Matthew 4:17). Revolutionary! Yes, but our pride does not take too kindly to repenting.
Yet, the severity of that preaching was love's shock to my heart. Sin's power had taken its toll on my ancestors and me. Its sternness had to cut through my damaged emotions and awaken my darkened intelligence. It slapped my will with fear and energized it into action.
That is why there was no apology in the preaching of Jesus. His message was not a suggestion. "Repent" could only get one of two answers from the human race.
So at the cross humanity responded. We silenced our King, our Prophet and our Priest. How stupid is sin! We attacked our own Savior. We cut our own lifeline.
But look again. In the midst of sin's darkness another force is moving. It asks for no permission.
God's throne was not destroyed when evil men nailed Christ to the cross. God is love. We may abandon God, but God does not abandon us. At the cross we expressed our hatred to God's rule. But God responded by planting the kiss of forgiveness on our faces (The Crises of the Christ, pp. 311, 313, adapted).
At the cross mankind was not ruined. You see, Love still held the throne! So now Grace moves at Love's command. It refuses to turn away from those who nailed the nails. What power, what kingly majesty is this? So strong, so good, so invincible! Man may cast his appointed King out into darkness, but in the darkness He was still the King (The Crises of the Christ, p. 311, adapted).
God's justice could have been satisfied by erasing the human race. But no, God insists, not only on justice but also on grace. So when evil had unleashed all its power at the cross, it is faced with Love sitting on the throne, swaying the scepter of grace.
Don't miss the point: God hates sin. Yet, the fierce flame that consumes the sacrifice came from the intensity of His love. Love will not allow sin to destroy the Universe. He will not!
My brother and I were once playing in my Grandma's sandy driveway with our "little cars." Suddenly, Grandma came running toward us yelling and waving a hoe. I don't remember being frightened, just shocked. Always so sweet and kind, we had never seen this side of Grandma. Suddenly, she began to beat the ground next to us. With vengeance she chopped a Copperhead snake into pieces.
Why such anger toward the snake? To be sure, that anger was kindled by her love for us. God's love is like that, only God has a problem—if that is possible. The children He loves, infected with sin, are like snakes, filled with sin and danger. Face it, poisonous snakes should die. Grandma was not wrong.
Yet, He loves us. It was God's grace that made Him sacrifice Himself, in Christ, to His own Justice (The Cross of Christ, p. 159, adapted). He takes our bite, and then sets us free! By satisfying His own Justice, God can now embrace me like a child, instead of destroying me like a snake.
Yet, Grace reveals another wonder. Sin's poison cannot keep Jesus in the grave. Oh no! Our sins may have caused His death, but He is sinless still. Even Justice demands His release. From those dark waters of death He rises victorious. Now I can touch the King's scepter of grace. Hallelujah! Instead of erasing me, it erases my sins. And someday, when Jesus comes, my sinfulness.
So here I stand, with God's grace gushing over me.
"So Grace is flowing like a river,
Millions there have been supplied,
Still it flows as fresh as ever,
From the Savior's wounded side."1, 2
Jay Gallimore is the president of the Michigan Conference.
1. English hymn, unknown.
2. With appreciation to the chapter, "Sin Unveiled, Grace Out Shining," in G. Campbell Morgan's book, The Crises of the Christ, pp. 304–316.
