Illustration results for Crucifixion
Free Memorial Day Resources
Sermons & Illustrations: Top SermonsTop Illustrations
Sermon & Worship Packages: Time to Remember
TALE OF TWO KINGS
Two of the greatest love stories ever told. The one, at Camelot; the other, at Calvary. Two of the noblest kings ever to live. The one, King Arthur; the other, King of the Jews. The one is adorned with a jeweled crown; the other, with a crown of thorns.
The comparisons and contrasts between Camelot and Calvary are many, but one scene from Camelot illustrates a great theological dilemma that only the cross could resolve.
Prior to His appointment with destiny on the brow of that fateful hill, Jesus agonized in the Garden of Gethsemane: "Father, if you are willing, take this cup from me; yet not my will, but yours be done" (Lk. 22:42).
Understand, on an emotional level, that this is the pleading of a son to his father. If your child came to you in such agony, wouldn’t you do everything within your power to grant the request?
But this Father, this time, didn’t respond as expected. And that’s the theological rub. He denied the request of His Son, His only Son, His beloved Son. In Gethsemane, that Son was asking:
"Is there no other way?"
The Son is betrayed, arrested, deserted, denied, beaten, tried, mocked, and finally crucified. Tacitly, the Father answers:
"No, there is no other way."
But why? Why was there no other way?
We find the answer to that question in a scene from Camelot, where the adulterous relationship between Queen Guenevere and Arthur’s most trusted knight, Sir Lancelot, has divided the Round Table. When the scheming Mordred catches them in a clandestine encounter, Lancelot escapes. Guenevere is not so fortunate. She faces a trial. The jury finds her guilty and sentences her to the flame.
As the day of execution nears, people come from miles around with one question in their minds: Would the king let her die?
Mordred gleefully captures the complexity of Arthur’s predicament:
Arthur! What a magnificent dilemma!
Let her die, your life is over;
Let her live, your life’s a fraud.
Which will it be, Arthur?
Do you kill the queen or kill the law?
Tragically but resolutely, Arthur decides: "Treason has been committed! The jury has ruled! Let justice be done!"
High from the castle window stands Arthur, as Guenevere enters the courtyard. She walks to her unlit stake, where the executioner stands with waiting torch. Arthur turns away, emotion brimming in his eyes.
A herald mounts the tower where Arthur has withdrawn: "The queen is at the stake, Your Majesty. Shall I signal the torch?"
But the king cannot answer.
Arthur’s love for Jenny spills from his broken heart: "I can’t! I can’t! I can’t let her die!"
Seeing Arthur crumble, Mordred relishes the moment: "Well, you’re human after all, aren’t you, Arthur? Human and helpless."
Tragically, Arthur realizes the truth of Mordred’s remark. Being only human, he is indeed helpless. But where this story ends, the greatest story ever told just begins.
Another Execution Scene.
Another time. Another place. Another king.
The setting: A world lies estranged from the God who loves it. Like Genevere, an unfaithful humanity stands guilty and in bondage, awaiting judgment’s torch.
Could God turn His head from the righteous demands of the law and simply excuse the world’s sin? If not, then could He turn His head from the world He loved? Would the king burn Guenevere?
Like the wicked Mordred, Satan must have looked on in delight:
God! What a magnificent dilemma!
Let them die, Your life is over;
Let them live, Your life’s a fraud;
Which will it be, God?
Do You kill Your world or do You kill the law?
Without even waiting for His Guenevere to look up in repentance, the King stepped down from His throne, took off His crown, laid aside His royal robes, and descended His castle’s polished steps into humanity’s pockmarked streets. Paul’s words in Philippians are thought by some scholars to be the lyrics of an ancient hymn, singing about the King of kings.
Who, being in very nature God, did not consider equality with God something to be grasped, but made himself nothing, taking the very nature of a servant, being made in human likeness. And being found in appearance as a man, he humbled himself and became obedient to death-even death on a cross! Phil. 2:6-8
That scene in the movie was an epiphany of understanding. Suddenly, it all made sense. We know now why He had to die, why there was no other way.
When love and justice collide, only the cross offers a happy ending.
Source: Abridged excerpt from Ken Gire’s book Windows of the Soul. Copyright © 1996 by Ken Gire, Jr. Zondervan Publishing Houses.
There are six varieties of wounds that a person can receive in their body.
Abrasive wound - Where the skin is scraped off. This can result from stumbling or by carrying a rough object or by a glancing blow
Confused wound - caused by a heavy blow.
Incised wound - produced by a knife or spear or other sharp instrument.
Lacerated wound - where the flesh is torn open leaving jagged edges.
Penetrating wound - where the flesh is pierced right through.
Punctured wound - made by a pointed or spiked instrument.
Jesus suffered all these wounds. Yes, Jesus suffered real physical pain. But what Jesus suffered physically by itself does not give the power to the cross. We must add with it the spiritual pain and suffering that Jesus endured on the cross. This is what made Jesus’ death on the cross different than any other.
Does God really love us? I say look to the crucified Jesus. Look to the old rugged cross.
-By every thorn that punctured His brow.
-By every mark of the back lacerating scourge.
-By every hair of his beard plucked from his cheeks by cruel fingers.
-By every bruise which heavy fists made upon His head.
God said, "I love you!"
-By all the spit that landed on his face.
-By every drop of sinless blood that fell to the ground.
-By every breath of pain which Jesus drew upon the cross.
-By every beat of His loving heart.
God said, I love you!"
POWER IN THE CROSS-COMMUNION MEDITATION
There is power in the cross. It's undeniable. Even unbelievers seem to squirm when considering its potential.
David Brooks, of the Weekly Standard, reports "of the conniption being thrown by the American Atheist, the group founded by the late Madalyn Murray O'Hair (may God have mercy upon her soul). It seems that when the World Trade Center collapsed, the force of the fall, or some supernatural force, fused two steel beams into a 20-foot-high cross, which has been kept on the edge of the site. The atheists want the cross removed, of course, but in their passion to do that, they are actually revealing their faith in the power of the cross. If it didn't have power, why get so upset?"
There is power in the cross. It's undeniable. As we come around the Lord's Table, we consider the potential of the cross--it's potential to reconcile al...
I simply argue that the cross be raised again
at the center of the market place
as well as the steeple of the church,
I am recovering the claim that
Jesus was not crucified in a cathedral between two candles
but on a cross between two thieves;
on a town garbage heap;
at a crossroad of politics so cosmopolitan that they had to write His title
in Hebrew and in latin and in Greek...
and at the kind of place where cynics talk smut,
and thieves curse and soldiers gamble.
Because that is where He died, and that is what He died about
and that is where Christ’s followers ought to be,
and what church people ought to be about
George MacLeod
Chuck Colson, of Prison Fellowship, tells about a prison in Sao Do Campos, Brazil, which was turned over to two Christians more than twenty years ago. It is run according to Christian principles. The prison only has two people on its staff. The inmates do everything else. Each prisoner has another to whom he is accountable. Every prisoner goes to chapel or takes a course in character formation. Each prisoner is assigned to a volunteer family outside the prison that makes him a part of their family. The rate of return for crimes after release is 4% compared to 75% in other Brazilian prisons.
When Colson visited the prison to discover the secret of their success, a prisoner took him to what at one time was an isolation cell. When they got there, the prisoner asked Colson if he wanted to go in. He said, "Yes." When the door opened, Colson saw a beautifully carved wooden figure of Jesus hanging on the cross. The prisoner pointed to the figure of Jesus and whispered, "He’s doing time for all of us."
Bruce Howell
John M. Moore, the hymn writer captured this truth when he wrote…
Why did they nail Him to Calvary’s tree?
Why, tell me, why was He there?
Jesus the Helper, the Healer, the Friend—
Why, tell me, why was He there?
Then the songwriter answers the rhetorical question by saying…
All my iniquities on Him were laid—
He nailed them all to the tree.
Jesus the debt of my sin fully paid—
He paid the ransom for me.
When Jesus was on the cross, I was in the crowd.
AN OPEN BORDER
Janet Daley writes, “During the Second World War, the Jewish philosopher Walter Benjamin fled across Europe from the Nazis. After weeks of running and hiding through occupied France, he reached his longed-for destination of Spain, from which it would have been possible to escape to America.
But on the day that he arrived, the Spanish border, which had been known to be open up to that point, was closed. Benjamin committed suicide in despair. With the most bizarre of paradoxes, the border re-opened the very next day. The closure had been only a temporary contingency.”
After striving, and running, and hiding, Benjamin had lost hope. He had come to a closed border—there was no way out.
Maybe you are striving, working so hard to be good, to be justified before God. But the border is closed, you cannot remove the guilt and the weight of your sin.
When we come to this communion table, we find real hope. We remember the sacrifice of Jesus that allows us to cross the border, to enter in to a place of forgiveness and freedom. For Christ “has rescued us from the d...
“Aunt Bessie’s Pickled Beets!” 2 Corinthians 7:2-13 Key verse(s): 10:“Godly sorrow brings repentance that leads to salvation and leaves no regret, but worldly sorrow brings death.”
The worst part of doing wrong is being found out. We’ve all been caught doing wrong in life; especially when we reflect back on our childhoods. And there are many things about doing wrong that are hurtful. First and foremost is the pain and suffering that we bring to others in our wrong-doing. This is the impact of wrong-doing that reverberates. Wrong has a way of broadcasting and spreading out, making a little mistake into a much bigger one. Take a lie for example. What started out as a fib can easily become the initiator of all manner of hurt, none of which was our intention in the first place. Certainly the effect of our wrong-doing on others is preeminent in our concern for doing right. But, there are other consequences attached to our wrongful behavior; not the least of which is the regret that becomes our lot when we are discovered in our sins.
I really hate the feeling of regret. There is simply something grinding and gnawing about it. Regret has a way of packaging itself so that it stays fresh for a very long time. Just when you think that you have put it away for good in some safe place where it can slowly but surely dissipate into the farthest and deepest reaches of your consciousness, some little reminder of the deed that spawned the regret in the first place creeps into your life. And that’s when regret pops up. It’s the jar of Aunt Bessie’s pickled beets that you pushed to the back of the fruit cellar shelf in hopes that in the darkness it could be forgotten that, despite the accumulation of years of dust and perhaps a little rust around the rim, stares back at you fresh and beckoning to be opened. Unless you empty the contents and wash the jar, Aunt Bessie’s face will always be popping up in the cellar no matter how many times you push it to the back of the shelf. You can’t live with regret no matter how hard you try. It will never be tamed or transformed because, like pickled beets, regret always tastes and looks the same. You can’t “salt” it or tincture it to make it more palatable. Pickled beets will always taste pickled.
“In 1904 William Borden, heir to the Borden Dairy Estate, graduated from a Chicago high school a millionaire. His parents gave him a trip around the world. Traveling through Asia, the Middle East and Europe gave Borden a burden for the world’s hurting people. Writing home, he said, ‘I’m going to give my life to prepare for the mission field.’ When he made this decision, he wrote in the back of his Bible two words: No Reserves. Turning down high paying job offers after graduation from Yale University, he entered two more words in his Bible: No Retreats. Completing studies at Princeton Seminary, Borden sailed for China to work with Muslims, stopping first at Egypt for some preparation. While there he was stricken with cerebral meningitis and died within a month. A waste, you say! Not in God’s plan. In his Bible underneath the words No Reserves and No Retreats, he had written the words No Regrets. (Daily Bread, December 31, 1988.)
There is only one way to deal with regret. You need to remove it from your life completely. Aunt Bessie’s pickled beets are always going to be there unless, of course, you eat them, wash the jar and return it with thanks to Aunt Bessie. Regrets don’t go away unless you decide in the first place that there is simply no room for them among the provisions in your heart. You may not like pickled beets but one thing you can be sure of, the beets marinated in that pickling solution are suspended in a state of freshness that will preserve them for a very long time. It is not likely that they will self-destruct any time soon requiring you to dispose of them with a clean conscience. No, Aunt Bessie pickled them for a reason. She wanted them preserved as a memorial to her garden and she had every intention of insuring that their survival would even exceed her’s. You might as well eat them and get it over with.
A cartoon has been found in the ruins of ancient Rome showing how crazy the Christian message seemed to the people of that time. It’s a caricature of Jesus’ crucifixion, showing a man’s body hanging on a cross – but the body has a head of a donkey. Standing to left of this cross is a man with his hands raised in worship. Underneath is the inscription, “he worships his God!”
Pastor's MediaVault
