Of all the important things I have been allowed to consider in my short life, I marvel at the impact of the instrument of humiliation, degradation, punishment and death the Romans called the crucifixion. It was an instrument of such cruelty that even the Roman emperors banned its use for over 300 years. Yet when I look upon one solitary instance of its use I see it as a wonderful and beautiful demonstration of the greatest love ever known. I am not able to just glance at it, I must gaze on it, ponder it, and survey all it represents. For on this very such instrument, He who is the most worthy of honor and glory was hung and there He willingly gave His life for me. When I compare all of the riches I could possibly expect to obtain in this lifetime to the event of the cross of Calvary, I see them as miserable abject failure and trash in comparison. Any measure of pride I might see in myself, my accomplishments or my desires, I now see as contemptible wasted effort.
I wish to God that He would forbid me from finding anything within me that I should desire to proclaim as my own goodness for I have none. The only redeeming thought, the only moment in my life wherein I might find any commendable value is in that moment when I see and accept what He did on the cross for me. He died for me! Everything, and I mean all of it, which I see of any pleasure or delight in my existence, I lay on the altar of sacrifice so they may be less and He be more to me. Nothing is of any value compared to the knowledge of His blood draining from His body as He gave life to me while taking my death on Himself. In my mind’s eye I see His head sliced open from the many thorns in the mockery of a crown placed upon Him. I see His nail pierced hands held in place on the wooden cross as the life blood trickled down. I see the hands which miraculously healed and lovingly touched and comforted beyond all human understanding. His feet that walked upon the waters, carried Him to the well of Samaria, deserved to be washed and were ignored, these same feet were now held in place for crimes I committed.
The sorrow of His heart over the city which would not come to Him and the love which brought Him to earth as a little child were mixed as one in the blood flowing down to the foot of the cross. Blood from the head, the hands the feet all given for me, that I might live. Never, not in a million years could anyone have foreseen or declared that such a contradiction could be more lovingly expressed. Nor could it be imagined that the wicked cruel mockery of plating a crown of thorns and shoving them harshly into His royal head would be for so many souls the liberation by so benevolent a king.
His blood became a robe to His naked body, covering the shame of the flesh with the most righteous covering in all of creation. While His body hung naked before His own creation, it was seen through the holiest filter anyone could desire to be seen through, the very crimson blood of Christ. In light of this knowledge there is nothing in this world I dare to live for. In light of the revelation of Him, His purpose and His passion, I find nothing in all the world which is even alive compared to Him and what He has done in me and for me.
If it were possible that I could lay claim as owner of all of creation (as ridiculous as that sounds) it would represent in my hands an insufficient offering to reward His sacrifice for me. No measure of what can be accumulated, held or imagined by mortal man can in any way approach the equivalence of His gift. No gift can be given which can be deemed as compensatory, not in the least degree. The measure of His love is indescribable, undeniable and beyond every scale of human measurement. I too stand amazed, as another song writer declared, in the presence of Jesus the Nazarene, and wonder how He could love me, a sinner condemned, unclean. How puny would my gift of acknowledgement be if I like Cain the son of Adam were to imagine that the offering of my prideful efforts might somehow please Him in any way? So immensely unearthly is His love for us that it can only be associated with our concept of divinity. He, Jehovah God of all creation, loves me. My only possible response to having come to this understanding of who He is versus who I am or what He has done for me versus what I have done to Him, is complete unreserved surrender of my very soul, the entirety of my life, of all that there is within the sphere of my influence.
All my untamed lusts, my desire for personal aggrandizement, my expectation of another breath or heart beat, yes all. For if He is not worthy of all then not even the slightest acknowledgement is pretended to be acceptable. To give partial submission is to be in total rebellion. To acquiesce to some of His teachings is to decry His validity as a teacher and question His veracity. If He is not Lord over all in my life then He is just one of many kings sitting upon one of many thrones, serving one of many lusts and desires within my wicked and perverse unregenerate mind.
All of this insight and every thought may be found expressed here:
When I survey the wondrous cross
On which the Prince of glory died,
My richest gain I count but loss,
And pour contempt on all my pride.
Forbid it, Lord, that I should boast,
Save in the death of Christ my God!
All the vain things that charm me most,
I sacrifice them to His blood.
See from His head, His hands, His feet,
Sorrow and love flow mingled down!
Did e’er such love and sorrow meet,
Or thorns compose so rich a crown?
His dying crimson, like a robe,
Spreads o’er His body on the tree;
Then I am dead to all the globe,
And all the globe is dead to me.
Were the whole realm of nature mine,
That were a present far too small;
Love so amazing, so divine,
Demands my soul, my life, my all.
When Isaac Watts penned the verses of “When I Survey The Wondrous Cross”, published in 1707, surely much of these thoughts roared through His mind. Said to be based on the contemplation of Galatians six fourteen, it puts succinctly in a few verses what we are unable to properly express in thousands of words. Scripture is more than a history, more than an encyclopedia of our knowledge of the God of the universe. It is the compilation of heavenly knowledge given by inspiration of God the Holy Spirit so man might know His creator. When a single verse produces such overflowing rivers of emotional and intellectual reservoirs, how much more is our experience meant to be by considering every jot and every tittle?
Do you ever wonder what measure your praise might bring in the lives of those who desperately need to find a Savior such as Jesus? Then as another songwriter wrote, let the sky be your scroll and the oceans your ink. Let your life be the pen to record His glories and Praise!