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The King of the Jews
Throughout His ministry on the earth, Jesus chose to reveal who He really was only to a select few people. He hid the truth to the public, speaking in parables so that “Seeing they may not see, and hearing they may not understand” (Luke 8:10). He silenced demons who identified Him as the Son of God, and He did not refer to Himself as the Messiah except in indirect ways (as in Matthew 11:2-6). The truth was not revealed until He was crucified:
John 19:19-20
19 Pilate also wrote an inscription and put it on the cross. It read, “Jesus of Nazareth, the King of the Jews.” 20 Many of the Jews read this inscription, for the place where Jesus was crucified was near the city, and it was written in Aramaic, in Latin, and in Greek.
The moment when Jesus was finally announced as the King of the Jews — the descendant of David who was to rule Israel as its Messiah — was the time of His greatest suffering and shame. How painfully ironic it must have been to His followers to see the truth finally revealed, plain as day, broadcast in many languages to all who passed by…but its Author mocked and crucified. They didn’t realize how important it was for Jesus to reveal Himself as the Suffering Servant from Isaiah — that He had come to bleed and die for the sin of the world. His suffering did not disqualify Him from kingship; rather, it was the mark of His kingship and reign over all the earth.
UPDATE July 3: It just occurred to me that I totally forgot about the Triumphal Entry, where people were calling out, “Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord, even the King of Israel!” (John 12:13). So despite what I said above, Jesus was announced as King and Messiah before the cross. However, the inscription on the cross still shows the link between His suffering and His kingship.
From top to bottom
Here is an interesting parallel between a couple of gospel accounts of Jesus’ crucifixion:
“But the tunic was seamless, woven in one piece from top to bottom, so they said to one another, ‘Let us not tear it, but cast lots for it to see whose it shall be’” (John 19:23-24).
“And the curtain of the temple was torn in two, from top to bottom” (Matthew 15:38).
I doubt there’s much significance in this since neither author tries to draw this parallel. But I thought it was interesting anyway.
The dying thief
There’s a great contrast between justice and mercy when the repentant thief speaks to Jesus on the cross:
Luke 23:39-43
39 One of the criminals who were hanged railed at him, saying, “Are you not the Christ? Save yourself and us!” 40 But the other rebuked him, saying, “Do you not fear God, since you are under the same sentence of condemnation? 41 And we indeed justly, for we are receiving the due reward of our deeds; but this man has done nothing wrong.” 42 And he said, “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.” 43 And he said to him, “Truly, I say to you, today you will be with me in Paradise.”
Even though the thief recognizes his own guilt and how he is being treated justly, he still asks Jesus for mercy. I wonder if, like all the other people, he had an earthly kingdom in mind — that he was simply asking Jesus to remember him when He established his kingdom on earth someday. (What faith he showed in a man who was dying on a cross next to him!)
Regardless, Jesus gave him far more than he had asked. The thief would not only be remembered, he would be with Jesus. And this would not take place at some distant time in the future, it would be that very day. What grace and mercy Jesus showed to this sinful and dying man! May we have faith as strong as his. Praise God for the grace that we never deserved!
Comfort or death
Luke presents a more well-rounded picture of Jesus’ crucifixion than Matthew and Mark because he describes not only the people who persecuted Him, but also the people who mourned for Him. Luke records that “there followed him a great multitude of the people and of women who were mourning and lamenting for him” as He carried His cross (23:27). There is also more detail about the two thieves who were crucified on either side of Jesus; Matthew and Mark don’t mention that one of them changed his mind and defended Jesus. Finally, after Christ’s death, Luke writes that “all the crowds that had assembled for this spectacle, when they saw what had taken place, returned home beating their breasts” (23:48).
However, the onlookers’ sympathy and sorrow did not translate into action. “The people stood by, watching, but the rulers scoffed at him, saying, ‘He saved others; let him save himself, if he is the Christ of God, his Chosen One!’” (Luke 23:35). The people stood silently and watched as Jesus was tormented by His enemies. They were sad to see the Christ suffer but not willing to act in response. The only one — the only one — to speak up for Jesus was the miserable thief crucified next to Him.
This cuts me to the heart because I see myself among the crowds. I watch safely from the comfort of my easy life as the kingdom of God is advanced by blood and tears. I hate the comfort that surrounds me and to which I cling. I hate the cold and gray deadness my heart often feels toward my crucified Lord.
Last weekend, while I was down in Washington, D.C., I stood on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial and reflected on how I would react if God brought the United States of America to an end. I was saddened to find that the thing which worried me the most was not an end to the beautiful things of our nation — freedom, equality, and justice — but an end to the comfort and ease that it affords. I cling fiercely to the lethargic state of mind that I hate so much.
Jesus calls us to suffer — to identify with Him. But I can barely convince myself to kneel down in prayer and worship Him each day. I say this with a great deal of shame. May God have mercy on me, and like the dying thief, may I be crucified with my Savior.
Naked and hopeless
I’ve been trying to put myself in Jesus’ shoes when the Roman soldiers “crucified him and divided his garments among them, casting lots for them, to decide what each should take” (Mark 15:24). To me, that’s a real sign of hopelessness when your clothes are stripped from you. It means you’re not going to need them anymore — instead, you will be naked and exposed until your inevitable death. There is no going back. There is no longer any hope when even the clothes on your back have been taken and all that is left is hours of shame and agony on a cross.
