Hearing The Loneliness Of The Cross
Matthew 27:45-46
Usually, we have the cross posted at the top. Today, we have it right up front, some place that it can not be overlooked.
On Tuesday, as the Worship Team prepared for rehearsal someone asked about the cross. It was said that it looks so much bigger sitting here.
But this evening, we don’t want to just see the cross. I want you to hear the sounds and the voices of the final moments of Christ’s life.
Movement #1 – Palm Sunday
The week began with Jesus strolling in to Jerusalem riding on a donkey. And you can hear the crowds in the streets, yelling,
"Hosanna! Hosanna in the highest! Save us, rescue us, deliver us!
Blessed is He who comes in the name of the Lord."
Jesus had center stage and you can hear the exuberant celebration of those who lined the streets of Jerusalem. But behind the ticker tape type of atmosphere, you can faintly hear the desperation in their voices … desperation that pleads for Jesus to rise up and become their King … to overthrow the Roman oppression ... To establish himself as Messiah. You can hear what they wanted, they wanted a King, an Earthly King. Like King David of old.
But that’s not what Jesus came to do. In fact, listen to what Jesus said about himself shortly before Palm Sunday... "The Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many."
Did you hear it? Did you hear who he was, what he came to do?
Movement #2 – Thursday night
But now I want us to fast forward a few days. Sunday he enters on a donkey. On Thursday he gathers his disciples, shares a final meal with them. He indicates that Judas will betray him, and then Jesus stands up and goes over to the basin. The water used by the slaves. He takes off his outer garment, kneels down at the feet of each disciple and gently washes their dirty, grimy, smelly feet. He then rises, breaks the bread and lifts the cup and you’ve already heard what he said,
"Take and eat, this is my body. Drink from it, this is my blood which is poured out for many for the forgiveness of sins."
You can almost hear the astonishment, the confusion in the disciples’ gasps as they watch and listen to Jesus. Then later that night, you can hear Jesus in the garden, lying prostrate on the ground, sweating drops of blood ... His disciples asleep. And did you hear what Jesus prayed,
”My father, if it is possible, may this cup, this suffering I am about to experience, may it be taken from me. Yet not as I will, but as you will.”
Movement #3 – The Cross
Then came the guards, the betrayal, the arrest, the trial. It’s Friday morning, Jesus has been beaten and mocked, and now comes time for his death. I want you to hear it this evening. It’s important that we not only see the cross, we must also hear the cross.
Jesus is there. Nails in his wrists, nails in his feet. Thieves on each side of him, a crowd of women below him. An entire nation despising him, his own disciples have abandoned him. And there he is, on that cross. Can you hear him. Listen closely...
“From the sixth hour until the ninth hour darkness came over all the land. About the ninth hour Jesus cried out in a loud voice, ‘Eloi, Eloi, lama sabachthani?’ which means, ‘My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?’”
Did you hear the groan of separation, the cry of loneliness? In his moment of agony, Jesus quotes, prays Psalm 22 ... And I am convinced that what was running through his mind was more than just the first line of that prophetic Psalm. As he hung on that cross, listen to what Jesus was contemplating, listen closely... 22:1-21 from the Message.
God, God … my God!
Why did you dump me miles from nowhere?
Doubled up with pain, I call to God all the day long. No answer. Nothing.
I keep at it all night, tossing and turning.
And you! Are you indifferent, above it all,
Leaning back on the cushions of Israel’s praises?
We know you were there for our parents,
They cried for your help and you gave it;
They trusted and lived a good life.
And here I am, a nothing – an earthworm, something to step on, to squash.
Everyone pokes fun at me; they make faces at me, they shake their heads;
Let’s see how God handles this one; since God likes him so much, let him help him!”
And to think you were midwife at my birth, setting me at my mother’s breasts!
When I left the womb you cradled me; since the moment of birth you’ve been my God.
Then you moved far away and trouble moved in next-door,
I need a neighbor.
I’m a bucket kicked over and spilled,
Every joint in my body has been pulled apart.
My heart is a blob of melted wax in my gut.
They have laid me out for burial in the dirt.
Now packs of wild dogs come at me; thugs gang up on me.
They pin me down hand and foot, and lock me in a cage – a bag of bones in a cage, stared at by every passerby.
They take my wallet and the shirt off my back, and then throw dice for my clothes.
You God – don’t put off my rescue! Hurry and help me!
Don’t let them cut my throat; don’t let those mongrels devour me.
If you don’t show up soon, I’m done for – gored by the bulls, meat for the lions.
Can you hear the feeling of separation, of loneliness? The despair is darker than the sky. The two who have been one are now two. Jesus, who had been with God for eternity, is now alone. The Christ, who was an expression of God, is abandoned. The fellowship of the Trinity has been dismantled.
Jesus withstood the beatings and remained strong at the mock trials. He watched in silence as those he loved ran away. He did not retaliate when the insults were hurled nor did he scream when the nails pierced his wrists.
But when God turned his head that was more than he could handle.
Maybe you’ve felt that separation in your life.
A young lady goes off to college. Hundreds of miles from home, she doesn’t know anybody. She doesn’t have a car, or much money. She has a roommate she has never met before. She calls home, her mother asks how she is doing, she says to her, "Oh, I’m fine I guess." But she can hear it in her daughter’s voice, she can hear the loneliness, the separation.
A widow wakes up in the middle of the night, it’s the first time she has slept alone for... it’s so long she can’t even remember. Instinctively, she reaches her hand beside her, but finds nothing but crumpled sheets. In a panic she sits up and wonders where her husband has gone, and then she remembers, she’s alone, she’s separated.
A child goes to the mall with his father. The dad takes his son in the bookstore, and begins looking at a new book that he might buy. While he is on page number 4, the son sees the toy store across the hall. Instead of bothering his dad, the child wanders over without telling anyone. After looking at the toys for a little while, the child notices the arcade, then he notices the candy store. And before he knows it, he’s all alone. He looks to his left, then to his right, but his dad is no where to be seen. So he starts to cry, and cry, uncontrollably, he’s lost, he’s afraid. Can you hear it in his sobs? He’s alone, he’s separated.
A husband and wife sit across the kitchen table from one another. The kids are in bed, but certainly not a sleep. For an hour they have listened to their parents fighting and arguing, screaming and yelling. First about one thing, then another, then another. Curses have been used, threats have been issued, hope has been lost. The kids quietly sob, the husband looks down in disgust, the wife wonders what to do next. And then they look at each other, and he finally says what they have all been thinking, "Maybe we should get a divorce." Can you hear the loneliness, can you sense the separation?
Life is filled with such moments. Moments of pain, moments of agony. Days when you feel alone, when God seems so distant, so far removed. You promised God, never again, but another mistake, another slip-up, another temptation that gets the best of you. And in that hour of guilt, you feel that loneliness, that separation. We’ve all been there, we’ve all experienced it.
I keep thinking of the diary. “I feel abandoned,” she wrote. “Who is going to love Judith Bucknell?” And I keep thinking of the parents of the dead child. Or the friend at the hospital bedside. Or the elderly in the nursing home. Or the orphans. Of the cancer ward.
And as Jesus hangs on that deadly cross. For three hours, darkness fills the land. The sin of the world has been placed heavily upon his shoulder … my sin, your sin on his shoulders. And in the darkness we can hear his voice breaking the silence. Listen closely to what he says...
- As they nail him to the cross, you can hear him say...
"Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do."
- As the thief begs for forgiveness, you can hear him say...
"Today you will be with me in paradise."
- As he looks down on his mother and on the Apostle John, you can hear him say...
"Dear woman, here is your son, here is your mother."
- As the burden of our sin bears down on him, you can hear him say...
"My God, My God, Why have you forsaken me?"
- In his ultimate humanity, you can here him say...
"I am thirsty."
- As the end of the 3 hours approaches, the end of his life, you can hear him say...
"It is finished" … "Into your hands I commit my spirit."
Did you hear it? Did you hear the loneliness, the separation?
But as you hear the cross. As you listen to the separation that Jesus experienced. Remember all that you heard leading up to that cross. The triumphal entry, the last supper, the prayer at Gethsemane. Nobody forced him, nobody tricked him, nothing was out of his control. He willingly came to this earth as a baby, he willingly grew up to be a man, he willingly died upon the cross.
His separation was intentional. He died on purpose. Why? So that one day he could hear us say, "Surely this is the Son of God." And when he hears us say those words, when he hears us say, "I accept you as the leader of my life, and as the savior of my soul," then something changes us. When he hears us acknowledge him then suddenly the separation between us and him is no longer there. Then, even when we are all alone, we are really never alone. Has he heard you say that lately? You’ve heard him, you’ve heard what he went through, but has he heard you say, "Surely you are the Son of God."
