A Beautiful Tale, The Sweetest Song

Dressed in a floor-length robe, hair covered in a headdress, sandals on your dirty-coated feet, you run. A mob surrounds you. Screaming, you shake your fists in the air, rushing about, voice raspy from so much yelling. Everyone pushes into each other. And you yell louder, louder, centurions pounding their spears as they egg you on, disciples pushing back. They shout, push, plead. And you scream all the louder, "crucify, crucify, CRUCIFY!"

We did. Tonight, I screamed those words. Fist shaking in the air, holding back tears, I forced the words from my constricting throat.

It's a play. The Thorn, an epic production of the passion story of Jesus. But nonetheless more real. It's a true story, the greatest story ever told, and being part of it is one of the most incredible, life-changing, humbling experiences.

Someone told me it was a humbling experience before I began being involved. I didn't quite understand what they meant, even through practice and rehearsals, it didn't quite strike home, until tonight.

Because I was part of that crowd. I was part of the enraged mob, screaming to crucify the King of Kings. I put Him on that cross, I begged for His whipping. And He was beaten to a pulp, skin shredded with that evil whip. Satan tempted Him to stop, told Him He'd done enough, said He should just give up. And He pulled Himself back up onto that whipping post, and took the lashes. He hauled the cross up to Calvary Hill, so broken He could barely stumble. He didn't stop. He kept going. They flung Him on the cross, and the nails were pounded in. Jerking, shouting in pain, He stayed on the cross. All the sins in the world on His shoulders. All the sins. My sins. Mine. Crushing down on His back, every sin I've ever committed and every sin I ever will.

I helped kill Jesus. And every time I sin, I crucify Him again.

Every second I was in that mob, shouting to kill the King, I was so angry with myself. I hated myself and every other person we were playing, I hated those killing Jesus. Yet, I'm one of them. I do it too. I'm no better than any other, my sins were there on the cross, two thousand years ago.

He died, for me.

I am so unworthy, yet still He loves me.

How incredible is that?

After the mob scene we snuck into the bleachers to watch the crucifixion scene. When I saw it last year it was the most incredible experience. Love Song (by Third Day) plays as Jesus drags the cross through the crowd, the centurions beat Him, pound nails into His hands, His feet. "Just to be with you, I would do anything, there's no price I would not pay." The words are sung as the cross is raised. Jesus dies before your eyes, as the words play again, and again, "Just to be with you, just to be with you, there's no price I did not pay."

He love me. He loves you.

And He died. For me. For you.

I felt crushed by the realization of how utterly unworthy I am of this love. Jesus was betrayed, flogged, and died. For me. I cannot ever fathom this level of love. And not just me, but the people in the real mob that night, the people who truly meant it when they screamed, "KILL HIM!" Jesus forgave them too. Not only did He forgive their betrayal, but He still died for them.

I think I could die for someone. I would much rather die than have someone else die. But in the midst of that much pain and death, I don't think I could look over at them and still say, "I love you." I'd still mean it, I'd still be dying for them, but I don't think that thought could even cross my mind, I'd be so consumed with my own circumstance.

Jesus, up on that cross, He said, "I love you." He looked down from that cross and said, "I want you. I love you. I'm dying for you. You are unworthy, but you are so worth it. There is nothing you can ever say or do to deserve my love, yet I still love you. I would do anything for you, I am doing everything for you. And not only that, I would do it all again."

He would do it all again. He would do it all again. For me. So. Much. Love.

Love greater, more purer, more beautiful than any other love. How could we not love Him back? When someone has done so much for us, how could we not accept Him? How could we fail Him, how could we hurt Him back by choosing our sinful ways?

He died for me. He took my sins, my shames, my failures, and they were crucified with Him. I'm cleansed, purified, bought with the ultimate price. Freed from my sins, and free to choose. And I choose Him.

Jesus gave it all, a priceless gift I could never even hope to repay. All I have is myself, my will, my heart, and I choose Him. My heart is His, a thousand times over. My life is His, the only thing I can give Him, He has. My life, my all.

It's the most beautiful love story ever told, told for you, told for me.