THE CRUCIFIXION
by F. W. Krummacher (1796 - 1868)
"The Lord is in his holy temple; let all the earth keep silent before him."
(Hab 2:20).
Let these words of the prophet Habakkuk be the language of our hearts on
entering into the Most Holy Place of Gospel history.
The most solemn of all days in Israel was the great day of atonement, the
only day in the year on which the high priest entered into the Most Holy
Place in the Temple. Before he approached that mysterious sanctuary, the law
enjoined that he should divest himself of his costly garments, and clothe
himself from head to foot in a plain white linen dress. He then took the
vessel with the sacrificial blood in his hand, and, thrilling with sacred
awe, drew back the veil, in order, humbly and devoutly, to approach the
throne of grace, and sprinkle the atoning blood. He remained no longer in
the sacred place than sufficed to perform his priestly office. He then came
out again to the people, and, in Jehovah's name, announced grace and
forgiveness to every penitent soul.
We shall now see this symbolical and highly significant act realized in its
full and actual accomplishment. The immaculate Jesus of whom the whole Old
Testament priest-hood, according to the divine intention, was only a typical
shadow, conceals Himself behind the thick veil of an increasing humiliation
and agony; that bearing in His hands His own blood, He may mediate for us
with God His Father. He realizes and accomplishes all that Moses included in
the figurative service of the tabernacle. The precise manner in which this
was accomplished we shall never entirely fathom with our intellectual
powers; but it is certain that He then finally procured our eternal
redemption.
Once more we return to the road to the cross, and in spirit mingle with the
crowd proceeding to the place of execution. They are just passing the rocky
sepulchers of the kings of Israel. The ancient monarchs sleep in their
cells, but a dawning resurrection gleams upon their withered remains when
the Prince of life passes by. The procession then enters the valley of
Gehenna, which once reeked with the blood of the sacrifices to Moloch. But
there is another still more dreadful Gehenna; and who among us would have
escaped it, had not the Lamb of God submitted to the sufferings which we now
see Him enduring?
We are arrived at the foot of the awful hill, but before ascending it, let
us cast a look on the crowd behind us, and see if, amid all the hatred and
rancor that rages there like an infernal flame, we can discover any traces
of sympathy and heartfelt veneration for the divine Sufferer. And lo! an
estimable little group meets our eye, like a benignant constellation in the
darkness of the night. We first perceive the pious Salome, the mother of the
two "sons of thunder." She desires to set her children an example of
faithfulness unto death, and we know that both James and John afterward
showed themselves perfectly worthy of such a mother. Near Salome walks Mary,
the near relative of the blessed virgin. She had also the great privilege of
seeing her two sons, James the Less and Joses, received into the immediate
fellowship of the great Master. And lo! yonder walks Mary Magdalene sobbing
aloud, who had experienced above others the delivering power of Him who came
to destroy the works of the Devil.
But who is she with tottering step, leaning on the disciple whom Jesus
loved, dejected more than all the rest, who covers her grief-worn face? It
is the sorely tried mother of our Lord, in whom Simeon's prophecy is now
fulfilled: "A sword shall pierce through your own soul also." But she had
scarcely the smallest presentiment that it would be accomplished in such a
manner. But look up, Mary! Cast yourself with all your grief into the arms
of the eternal Father. Do you see your Son going to be crucified? He also
sees! He who is crowned with thorns is His Son as well as yours. Look at the
dear disciple, who though inconsolable himself, tries to support the deeply
grieved mother of his Lord. What a scene! But how gratifying is it to
perceive that love for the Man of Sorrows has not wholly become extinct upon
earth! Nor shall it ever expire. Do not be concerned on that account. In
that mourning group you see only the first divinely quickened germs of the
future kingdom of the divine Sufferer. From a few, a multitude that no man
can number will before long proceed.
After this cursory retrospect of the Savior's attendants, let us again put
ourselves in motion with the crowd. Only a few steps upward, and we reach
the end of the dreadful pilgrimage. Where are we now? We are standing on the
summit of Mount Calvary—Golgotha—horrifying name—the appellation of the most
momentous and awful spot upon the whole earth. Behold a naked and barren
eminence, enriched only by the blood of criminals, and covered with the
bones of executed rebels, incendiaries, prisoners, and other offscourings of
the human race. An accursed spot, where love never rules, but where naked
justice alone sits enthroned, with scales and sword, and from which every
passerby turns with abhorrence, a nocturnal rendezvous of jackals and
hyenas.
This place, so full of horrors, becomes transformed into "the hill from
where comes our help," whose mysteries many kings and prophets have desired
to see, and did not see them. Yes, upon this awful hill our roses shall
blossom, and our springs of peace and salvation burst forth. The pillar of
our refuge towers upon this height. The Bethany of our repose and eternal
refreshment here displays itself to our view. Truly the ancients were
correct in their assertion, that Mount Calvary formed the center of the
whole earth; for it is the meeting place where the redeemed, though
separated in body by land and sea, daily assemble in spirit, and greet each
other with the kiss of love.
Not less correct were they in the legend that father Adam was buried beneath
Mount Calvary—this hill being really Adam's grave, when by the latter we
understand the fallen sinful man, whom we all carry about in us, and who was
crucified with Christ on Golgotha. It is strange that to this day the
learned dispute the position of this hill, and that there is scarcely a
prospect of ascertaining the place with certainty. But it was the divine
intention that the material mount should be exalted into the region of that
which is spiritual; and such is actually the case. It finds its abiding
place in the believing view of the world.
On that awful mount ends the earthly career of the Lord of glory. Behold
Him, then, the only green, sound, and fruitful tree upon earth, and at the
root of this tree the ax is laid. What a testimony against the world, and
what an annihilating contradiction to everything that bears the name of God
and divine Providence, if the latter did not find its solution in the
mystery of the representative atonement! Behold Him, then, covered with
wounds and ignominy, and scarcely distinguishable from the malefactors among
whom He is reckoned.
But have patience. In a few years, Jerusalem that rejected Him glorifies Him
in the form of a smoking heap of ruins, as the beloved Son of the Most High,
whom no one can assail with impunity; and surrounded by the lights of the
sanctuary, living monuments arise, in three quarters of the globe, bearing
the inscription, "To Christ, the Redeemer of the world." But before these
things take place, a horrible catastrophe must occur. The life of the world
only springs forth from the death of the just One. The hour of His baptism
with blood has arrived.
Alas! alas! what is it that now takes place on that bloody hill? Four
barbarous men, inured to the most dreadful of all employments, approach the
Holy One of Israel, and offer Him, first of all, a stupefying potion
composed of wine and myrrh, as usual at executions. The Lord disdains the
draught, because He desires to submit to the will of His heavenly Father
with full consciousness, and to drink the last drop of the accursed cup. The
executioners take the Lamb of God between them, and begin their horrid
occupation by tearing, with rude hands, the clothes from off His body. There
He stands, whose garment once was the light, and the stars of Heaven the
fringe of His robe, covered only with the crimson of His blood, and divested
of all that adorned Him, not only before men, but also in His character as
Surety, before God.
After having unclothed the Lord, and left Him, by divine direction, only His
crown of thorns, they lay Him down on the wood on which He is to bleed.
Thus, without being aware of it, they bring about the moment predicted in
Psalm 22, where we hear the Messiah saying: "Do not be far from me, for
trouble is near; for there is none to help. Many bulls have compassed me
about; strong bulls of Bashan have beset me round." What a dying bed for the
King of kings! My friends, as often as we repose on the downy cushions of
divine peace, or blissfully assemble in social circles, singing hymns of
hope, let us not forget that the cause of the happiness we enjoy is solely
to be found in the fact that the Lord of glory once extended Himself on the
fatal tree for us.
See His holy arms forcibly stretched out upon the cross—His feet laid upon
each other. Thus Isaac once lay on the wood on Mount Moriah. But the voice
that then called out of Heaven, saying: "Lay not your hand upon the lad!" is
silent on Calvary. The executioners seize the hammer and nails. But who can
bear to look upon what further occurs? The horrible nails from the forge of
Hell, yet foreseen in the sanctuary of eternity, are placed on the hands and
feet of the righteous Jesus, and the heavy strokes of the hammer fall. Do
you hear the sound? They thunder on your heart, testifying in horrible
language of your sin, and at the same time of the wrath of Almighty God.
Awake you that are asleep in sin, and rouse yourself likewise you who are
lulling yourself in carnal security! How many proud and haughty heart has
been broken into salutary repentance by those strokes! Why does not your
heart also break? For know that you did aid in swinging those hammers; and
that the most crying and impious act which the world ever committed is
charged to your account.
See, the nails have penetrated through, and from both hands and feet gushes
forth the blood of the Holy One. These nails have rent the rock of salvation
for us, that it may pour forth the water of life; have torn the heavenly
bush of balm that it may send forth its perfume. Yes, they have pierced the
handwriting that was against us, and have nailed it to the tree; and by
wounding the Just One have penetrated through the head of the old serpent.
Let no one be deceived with respect to Him who was thus nailed to the cross!
Those pierced hands bless more powerfully than while they moved freely and
unfettered. They are the hands of a wonderful Architect who is building the
frame of an eternal Church—yes, they are the hands of a Hero, which take
from the strong man all his spoil. There is no help or salvation save in
these hands; and these bleeding feet tread more powerfully than when no
fetters restrained their steps. Nothing springs or blooms in the world,
except beneath the prints of these feet.
The most dreadful deed is done, and the prophetic words of the Psalm: "They
pierced my hands and my feet," have received their fulfillment. The foot of
the cross is then brought near to the hole dug for it. Powerful men seize
the rope attached to the top of it, and begin to draw, and the cross, with
its victim, elevates itself and rises to its height. Thus the earth rejects
the Prince of life from its surface, and, as it seems, Heaven also refuses
Him. But we will let the curtain drop over these horrors. Thank God! In that
scene of suffering the Sun of grace rises over a sinful world, and the Lion
of Judah ascends into the region of the spirits that have the power of the
air in order, in a mysterious conflict, eternally to disarm them on our
behalf.
Look what a spectacle now presents itself. The moment the cross is elevated
to its height, a crimson stream falls from the wounds of the crucified
Jesus. This is His legacy to His Church. We render Him thanks for such a
bequest. It falls upon spiritual deserts, and they blossom as the rose. We
sprinkle it upon the doorposts of our hearts, and are secure against
destroyers and avenging angels. Where this rain falls, the gardens of God
spring up, lilies bloom, and what was black becomes white in the purifying
stream, and what was polluted becomes pure as the light of the sun. There is
no possibility of flourishing without it, no growth nor verdure, but
everywhere desolation, barrenness, and death.
There stands the mysterious cross—a rock against which the very waves of the
curse break. He who so mercifully engaged to direct this judgment against
Himself hangs yonder in profound darkness. Still He remains the Morning
Star, announcing an eternal Sabbath to the world. Though rejected by Heaven
and earth, yet He forms the connecting link between them both and the
Mediator of their eternal and renewed amity.
Ah, see! His bleeding arms are extended wide; He stretches them out to every
sinner. His hands point to the east and west; for He shall gather His
children from the ends of the earth. The top of the cross is directed toward
the sky; far above the world will its effects extend. Its foot is fixed in
the earth; the cross becomes a wondrous tree, from which we reap the fruit
of an eternal reconciliation.
Nothing more is requisite, than that God should grant us penitential tears,
and then, by means of the Holy Spirit, show us the Savior suffering on the
cross. We then escape from all earthly care and sorrow, and rejoice in hope
of the glory of God. For our justification in His sight, nothing more is
requisite than that, in the consciousness of our utter helplessness, we lay
hold of the horns of that altar which is sprinkled with the blood that
"speaks better things than that of Abel." And the Man of Sorrows displays to
us the fullness of His treasures, and bestows upon us, in a superabundant
degree, the blessing of the patriarch Jacob on his son Joseph: "The
blessings of your father have prevailed above the blessings of my
progenitors unto the utmost bound of the everlasting hills."
There stands erected the standard of the new covenant, which, when it is
understood, spreads terror around it no less than delight, and produces
lamentation no less than joy and rejoicing. It stands to this day, and will
stand forever. And wherever it is displayed, it is surrounded by powerful
manifestations and miraculous effects. Look how the missionary fields become
verdant, and a springtime of the Spirit extends itself over the heathen
deserts! Hark how the harps of peace resound from the islands of the sea;
and behold how, between the icebergs of the north, the hearts begin to glow
with the fire of divine love! From where these changes? These resurrection
wonders? From where this shaking in the valley of dry bones? The cross is
carried through the land, and beneath its shade the soil becomes verdant and
the dead revive.
"I am crucified with Christ," exclaims the apostle, and by these words
points out the entire fruit which the cross bears for all believers. His
meaning is, "They are not His sins, for which the curse is there endured,
but mine; for He who thus expires on the cross, dies for me. Christ pays and
suffers in my stead." But that of which Paul boasts is the property of us
all, if by the living bond of faith and love we are become one with the
crucified Jesus. We are likewise exalted to fellowship with the cross of
Christ in the sense also that our corrupt nature is condemned to death, our
old man, with his affections and lusts. We see the cross of Calvary unfold
its full and peace-bestowing radiance. It arches itself, like a rainbow,
over our darkness, and precedes us on our path of sorrow like a pillar of
fire. Oh, that its serene light might always shine upon our path through
this valley of tears, and as the tree of liberty and of life strike deep its
roots into our souls! Apprehended by faith, may it shed its heavenly fruit
into our lap, and warm and expand our hearts and minds beneath its shade!