Christian Art | Reflections On The Love Of Jesus Christ | Crucifixion
Luke 22: 39-46 | King James Audio Bible
Reflections On The Love Of Jesus Christ | Jesus Prays In Agony In The Garden Of Gethsemane
‘And being in an agony he prayed more earnestly: and his sweat was as it were great drops of blood falling down to the ground.’ – Luke 22:44, KJV
As I reflect upon the love of Jesus Christ, my heart is drawn to the Garden of Gethsemane, where Jesus prayed on the night before he was crucified. The Gospel of Matthew tells us that Jesus went to the garden with his disciples, and then left eight of them behind to pray while he took Peter, James, and John with Hhm further into the garden.
There, Jesus began to feel the weight of what was to come. Jesus told His disciples: ‘My soul is exceeding sorrowful, even unto death.’ (Matthew 26:38, KJV) Jesus fell on his face and prayed: ‘O my Father, if it be possible, let this cup pass from me: nevertheless not as I will, but as thou wilt.’ (Matthew 26:39, KJV)
As I contemplate these words, I am struck by the depth of Jesus’ love for us. Jesus knew what was coming – the betrayal, the arrest, the mockery, the beating, and ultimately the crucifixion – and he was filled with sorrow and dread. Yet even in his anguish, Jesus submitted to the Father’s will. He did not ask to be spared the suffering, but only that the cup might pass from him ‘if it be possible’.
What is this cup? Many commentators have suggested that it is a reference to the cup of God’s wrath that Jesus would drink on the cross, bearing the penalty for our sins. Others have suggested that it is a symbol of the suffering that Jesus would endure, both physically and emotionally. Whatever it may be, we can be sure that it was something so terrible that even Jesus, the Son of God, recoiled from it.
And yet, Jesus submitted to it. Jesus said: ‘Not my will, but thine, be done.’ (Luke 22:42, KJV) Jesus did not try to escape or to fight back. Jesus went willingly to his death, because he loved us so much that he was willing to bear our sins and suffer the punishment we deserved.
As I reflect upon the agony of Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane, I am filled with gratitude and awe. How great is the love of our Saviour, that he would endure such agony and willingly lay down his life for us! May we never take his sacrifice for granted, but always remember the price that was paid for our redemption. And may we, like Jesus, submit ourselves to the will of the Father, trusting in Jesus’ love and his plan for our lives.
Reflections On The Love Of Jesus Christ | Jesus Is Scourged At The Pillar
‘Then Pilate therefore took Jesus, and scourged him.’ – John 19:1, KJV
As I reflect upon the love of Jesus Christ, my thoughts turn to the scourging at the pillar. This brutal punishment was inflicted upon Jesus before his crucifixion, as part of the Roman custom of flogging prisoners before execution.
The Gospel of Matthew tells us that Jesus was brought to Pilate, the Roman governor, and was then scourged by the soldiers. They stripped Jesus, tied him to a pillar or post, and whipped im with a whip that had sharp pieces of bone or metal embedded in the cords. The blows would have torn into Jesus’ flesh, causing excruciating pain and leaving Jesus covered in blood.
As I contemplate this scene, I am struck by the depth of Jesus’ love for us. Jesus endured this punishment willingly, knowing that it was part of the price he would pay for our redemption. Jesus did not fight back or resist, but submitted himself to the soldiers and allowed them to scourge him.
Why did Jesus endure this suffering? The answer lies in Jesus’ love for us. The Bible tells us that ‘by his stripes we are healed’ (Isaiah 53:5, KJV). In other words, Jesus’ wounds were not just a physical punishment, but a spiritual healing. Jesus took upon himself the punishment that we deserved, so that we might be forgiven and reconciled to God.
As I meditate upon the scourging at the pillar, I am reminded of the words of the apostle Peter: ‘Who his own self bare our sins in his own body on the tree, that we, being dead to sins, should live unto righteousness: by whose stripes ye were healed.’ (1 Peter 2:24, KJV) Jesus’ wounds were not just a result of Roman brutality, but a means of our salvation.
May we never forget the love that Jesus demonstrated for us on the day of his scourging. May we never take for granted the price that was paid for our redemption. And may we, like the apostle Paul, ‘glory in the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ, by whom the world is crucified unto me, and I unto the world’ (Galatians 6:14, KJV).
Reflections On The Love Of Jesus Christ | Jesus Is Crowned With Thorns
As I reflect upon the love of Jesus Christ, my thoughts turn to the moment when Jesus was crowned with thorns. This brutal act of humiliation and cruelty was inflicted upon Jesus by the Roman soldiers, who sought to mock Jesus and degrade him further before his crucifixion.
The Gospel of Matthew tells us that the soldiers ‘plaited a crown of thorns, and put it upon his head, and a reed in his right hand: and they bowed the knee before him, and mocked him, saying, Hail, King of the Jews!’ (Matthew 27:29, KJV). They then spat on Jesus and struck him with the reed, further adding to his pain and humiliation.
As I contemplate this scene, I am struck by the depth of Jesus’ love for us. Jesus endured this mockery and abuse willingly, knowing that it was part of the price He would pay for our redemption. Jesus did not fight back or resist, but submitted himself to the soldiers and allowed them to crown him with thorns.
Why did Jesus endure this suffering? The answer lies in Jesus’ love for us. The Bible tells us that Jesus is the King of kings and Lord of lords (Revelation 19:16), but he did not come to reign in earthly power and glory. Instead, Jesus came to serve and to give his life as a ransom for many (Mark 10:45). By allowing himself to be crowned with thorns, Jesus demonstrated his willingness to endure the worst that humanity could inflict upon him, in order to save us from our sins.
As I meditate upon Jesus’ crown of thorns, I am reminded of the words of the prophet Isaiah: ‘He was despised and rejected of men; a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief: and we hid as it were our faces from him; he was despised, and we esteemed him not.’ (Isaiah 53:3, KJV) Jesus suffered rejection, humiliation, and pain, all for the sake of our salvation.
May we never forget the love that Jesus demonstrated for us on the day of his crowning with thorns. May we never take for granted the price that was paid for our redemption. And may we, like the apostle Paul, ‘know him, and the power of his resurrection, and the fellowship of his sufferings, being made conformable unto his death’ (Philippians 3:10, KJV).
Reflections On The Love Of Jesus Christ | Jesus Carries The Cross
‘And he bearing his cross went forth into a place called the place of a skull, which is called in the Hebrew Golgotha.’ – John 19:17, KJV
As I reflect upon the love of Jesus Christ, my thoughts turn to the moment when Jesus carried the cross. This was one of the most iconic moments in Jesus’ passion, as he bore the weight of the wooden cross upon which he would be crucified.
The Gospel of John tells us that Jesus ‘bearing his cross went forth into a place called the place of a skull, which is called in the Hebrew Golgotha’ (John 19:17, KJV). Jesus would have been exhausted from the beatings, the scourging, and the lack of food and water. And yet, he did not falter or give up. Jesus continued to carry the cross, even as the crowds jeered and mocked him.
As I contemplate this scene, I am struck by the depth of Jesus’ love for us. Jesus endured this physical and emotional pain willingly, knowing that it was part of the price he would pay for our redemption. Jesus did not resist or fight back, but submitted himself to the will of the Father and bore the cross.
Why did Jesus endure this suffering? The answer lies in Jesus’ love for us. The Bible tells us that ‘Christ also hath once suffered for sins, the just for the unjust, that he might bring us to God’ (1 Peter 3:18, KJV). Jesus bore the weight of the cross so that we might be forgiven and reconciled to God. He carried our sins and our shame, so that we might be set free.
As I meditate upon Jesus’ carrying of the cross, I am reminded of the words of the psalmist: ‘The Lord is my strength and my shield; my heart trusted in him, and I am helped: therefore my heart greatly rejoiceth; and with my song will I praise him’ (Psalm 28:7, KJV). Jesus is our strength and our shield, and He carried the cross so that we might have hope and joy.
May we never forget the love that Jesus demonstrated for us on the day of his carrying of the cross. May we never take for granted the price that was paid for our redemption. And may we, like the apostle Paul, ‘forgetting those things which are behind, and reaching forth unto those things which are before, press toward the mark for the prize of the high calling of God in Christ Jesus’ (Philippians 3:13-14, KJV).
Reflections On The Love Of Jesus Christ | Jesus Is Crucified
‘And they crucified him, and parted his garments, casting lots: that it might be fulfilled which was spoken by the prophet, They parted my garments among them, and upon my vesture did they cast lots.’ – Matthew 27:35, KJV
As I reflect upon the love of Jesus Christ, my thoughts turn to the moment when Jesus was crucified. This was the ultimate act of love, as Jesus willingly gave his life for us so that we might be saved.
The Gospel of Matthew tells us that Jesus was ‘crucified, dead, and buried’ (Matthew 27:35-60, KJV). He was nailed to the cross, and left to suffer in agony for hours. Jesus was mocked and reviled by the crowds, who hurled insults at him.
As I contemplate this scene, I am struck by the depth of Jesus’ love for us. Jesus endured this excruciating pain willingly, knowing that it was part of the price he would pay for our redemption. Jesus did not resist or fight back, but submitted Himself to the will of the Father and died on the cross.
Why did Jesus endure this suffering? The answer lies in Jesus’ love for us. The Bible tells us that ‘God commendeth his love toward us, in that, while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us’ (Romans 5:8, KJV). Jesus died on the cross so that we might be forgiven and reconciled to God. Jesus paid the penalty for our sins, so that we might have eternal life.
As I meditate upon Jesus’ crucifixion, I am reminded of the words of the prophet Isaiah: ‘Surely he hath borne our griefs, and carried our sorrows: yet we did esteem him stricken, smitten of God, and afflicted. But he was wounded for our transgressions, he was bruised for our iniquities: the chastisement of our peace was upon him; and with his stripes we are healed.’ (Isaiah 53:4-5, KJV) Jesus bore our sins and our sorrows, so that we might have healing and peace.
May we never forget the love that Jesus demonstrated for us on the day of his crucifixion. May we never take for granted the price that was paid for our redemption. And may we, like the apostle Paul, ‘glory in the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ, by whom the world is crucified unto me, and I unto the world’ (Galatians 6:14, KJV).
Christ continues his work of healing and exorcism. He passes from the synagogue, a Jewish meeting place for prayer and for reading of the Scriptures, to enter into the home of Simon and Andrew. The Bible tells us that Jesus spends much of his time preaching in synagogues. Later, during his Passion, Jesus will tell Pilate that he has always taught openly in synagogues. There is indeed a great openness to Jesus’ teaching. Many are called, here in a space which would be at the spiritual heart of local Jewish communities. Similarly, we are called as followers of Christ to spread the good news. Our openness with our love of Christ reflects Christ’s openness to the people of Galilee and to us [ … ]
Jesus exemplified meekness through his actions. Despite having immense power, Jesus chose to serve others, show compassion, and sacrifice for their well-being. Jesus demonstrated that genuine strength lies in selflessness and aligning oneself with a higher purpose [ … ]
The Carrefour will be open, where I can buy nuts for the red squirrel, who lives in Campo Grande. The red squirrel is Valladolid’s best bit. Even as a child, I had never seen one before, apart from in picture books. It was last term’s discovery. The most beautiful encounter. I didn’t know it was there – in the park. A complete surprise. The tiny little thing bobbled and hopped, as it received in its little hands a nut from the man’s hands. Each surprising instant – it was childlike. I whispered: ‘Oh my wow.’ I walk toward the El Cortes Ingles. There is, for now, that settled feel of friends in bookshops. Though a null-affect, neutral day – it won’t glean, it is not to be scratched at. The queues are long in the Carrefour. Though, as it might be, on relatively modest incomes, many people live centrally. Their behaviours neither pinched nor stark. Yet the shop so busy while the street so empty… An error in the simulation, a glitch in the code. I potter about the aisles, which are pleasant enough, then at the tills I flinch at how expensive a little bag of up-sold nuts can be. Nonetheless, I queue for a packet of almonds. Two English men queue directly ahead of me. They are stocky, and have gay voices, their wheelie-bucket piled with soft drinks and party food, while they bitch to one another about the obviously terrible party they’re going to. The air heaves relief as I wander up the way to the broad plaza fringing Campo Grande. This is a place to see – a piece of Spain. There is a tourist information office, though unopened. At these fountains, three girls take selfies. Pompous-looking buildings, the military offices aside, line the park’s nearest vicinities. Hotel-bars have their patches. Liveried doormen idle time, for there are no paying customers, in and out the doorways’ shadows. A mixed group of kids play at the hoops on the pedestrian boulevard, and two boys practise on skateboards, working the thing out. I pass by them, touched by the thought, and happy that they are there. Wistful, I smile at the odds of the ball spilling over to me, and play in mind the agreeable scene of a fleeting connection. Then I am through the park gates. An air now – of humanity become self-selecting. Modestly understated. Understatedly modest. Campo Grande is nice but it isn’t grande… I walk slowly, and very soon hear for a second time English voices. Not them – it is an English family, just a little way ahead, a Dad and a Mum and a younger boy and an older girl, and theirs are Midlands accents. Dad seems to have been here and to know the place. He gestures panoramically. Mum wants her lunch. The girl at a difficult age. She carries a balloon-on-a-stick. Though she is sprouting – yet wears a loud dress. Then leggings, trainers. Her hair is nice… Maybe she is being okay about it. And not horrific. It’s okay once they get into it, but those months… Yet then, they mostly blossom, if they come from a good home, and become rounded personalities, entering into their womanhood. It was that… when yet they weren’t… I shudder to think of it. They walk toward the pond, and I trail, and would follow had I not been going that way. I wish I could say something so they might hear I am English too. (Fake a phone call?) How my voice might sound – there’d be all college hurling around in such matter I… a demented thing, ludicrous blurt – of Henry, Geoff, and all of them – not to mention the personal predicament. Maybe they’re a nice family. She is letting him explain what he needs to explain. And it would blow his fire, me being English. Mum and Dad. You’d probably see them all having their lunch in a little while. All sat round the table. With napkins and the menus out. Dad looks safe. I look into the pond. Terrapins live in there. But not today. I walk toward the join in the paths where the squirrel lives. There, I crumple the packet of almonds, making noise. I peer and I squat and crouch – chewing a mouthful. All the peacocks have perched right up in the trees’ branches. That never looks like something they should be doing. It’s disappointing that the squirrel isn’t here – but then the not-knowing-if is a part of it. Now, next, my visit to the National Sculpture Museum is an obligation. Canon Peter stood literally aghast when I hadn’t heard of it. Mortified, I made resolute promises. Though a few weeks have passed, it isn’t just any old something I could do on the hoof. A great commitment – it must command a known and prepared and anticipated not-just-any-old-time. But, rather, the sort you must wait for – and listen for. [ … ] Beyond Plaza Mayor, there would be a brief series of old-town alleyways. The National Sculpture Museum would be – just up there, this archway, this next…They are bleached and forgotten-looking walls, and the smoothed paving could be medieval. Not that it is making Tomàs anxious – I follow the map. A kind of place – uneasy credit-cards, and modern vaccinations, and a phone, might not help much. I fancy I feel the back-wall of a church, and that – fancifully – pressure-release drawn out of me. Only I am playing games in a nice way – making play-scared on the uncertainty – with only myself to see. The National Museum is there, modestly signed on stencilled plexiglass stuck to the stone wall. A uniformed lady sits just a little way inside the doorway. She reassures me there is no money required, and directs me over the courtyard into the planned route, showing me where I can pick up a free map. I get my […]
