Fully Man.

I wonder what its like to open your eyes in the morning, yawn, stretch, and feel your gut drop as you remember that this is the day you were born for. Born to be betrayed, mocked, beaten, forsaken and crucified…

I wonder what it feels like to wake up in the morning, knowing that this is the day you are going to die.

Jesus had such a day, so many years ago; Good Friday.

I wonder if he’d slept at all the night leading up to Passover and his trial. I wonder if he’d tossed and turned for weeks, or months. Had he counted down the days with expectation or fear? When he rose in the morning, were his knees weak, did his hands shake? What was it like hugging his mother for the last time? Did he hold onto her a little tighter, did a lump form in his throat? What was it like leaving Nazareth, knowing he’d never come back? This place was his home. The place where he’d worked with his Father in his carpenters shop and ran laughing down the streets while chasing his younger brothers.

I wonder if he looked out among the crowds of people in Jerusalem and wish he had more time. “Another week and I could have healed a thousand more. A thousand more could have come to repentance.”

But he didn’t have another week.

He had one more day.

This morning I’ve been pondering the humanity of Jesus Christ.
Yes, Jesus was fully God. He was perfect in all his ways. He defeated every temptation, he turned water into wine, he healed the sick and raised the dead…his sacrifice was sufficient for sin because he was a lamb without spot. He was Gods son, the creator and sustainer of the universe.

And yet, Jesus was fully human too. A thirty-three year old man, with carpenters hands that would be scarred, with feet that had danced at weddings that would be pierced, a head that his Father had kissed that would wear a crown of thorns, a body his mother used to wrap up to keep warm that would be stripped bare and beaten.

He was a man.

And though he knew that this was the day he had been born for, though he had tried to prepare his disciples and tell others, he was scared.

“My soul is very sorrowful, even unto death.” He said in Matthew 26:38.
“Please Father! Take this cup from me!“

But Jesus wasn’t selfish.

“Nevertheless, not my will, but yours be done.”

I wonder what it felt like to say those words and relinquish any last hold he had over his life and safety. It must have been agonizing, because the bible says Jesus sweat tears of blood. He knew what he had to do.

Just minutes later he walked down from the hill where he was praying and found his disciples fast asleep. Immediately following that, a man who had walked with him for his entire ministry betrayed him into the hands of the High Priest Caiaphas. There he stood before the Sanhedrin as a sheep before the slaughter.

He was God. He could have had a legion of angels come rescue him. He could have obliterated anyone who tried to hurt him. But He opened not his mouth to defend himself, though he had every defense in the world.

In a way his silence was a surrender.

“I give my life freely. Take it.”

I can guarantee every minute of that night was agonizing. Not only physically, but emotionally too. Stripped of every comfort, humiliated, tortured, denied by his disciples, mocked, doubted.

“If you are the Son of God, come down from the cross!”

If only they knew that by staying on it he was validating that he truly was. He was fulfilling every last prophecy that proved he was the Messiah. He was showcasing in the most gruesome and yet glorious way the true nature of Yahweh’s character- love, forgiveness, grace and justice.

Fully God, but fully man too.

He was like us in every way.

Every insult and every voice that shouted “Crucify him!” pierced his heart like the nails that pierced his hands.

He felt every blow of the whip, every bang of the hammer, every thorn pressing into his skull. Every lost and wounded soul that gaped up at him from the foot of the cross pulled at his compassion.

“Forgive them Father, for they know not what they do.”

I wonder what he thought about as he hung on the cross. I’m sure his thoughts were clouded with the extreme pain he was enduring. But I still wonder. Did He see the ones he was dying for? Did he say our names? As he forgave the ones who mocked him at his feet, was he forgiving every other sin and every other offense as well?

Even if he didn’t say it, he showcased it.
Every minute he hung on that cross screamed the message he’d been spreading for his entire ministry louder and louder.
“I love you. I forgive you.”

Every sin. Every lie. Every murder. Every wrong motivation. Every selfish thought. Every passionate indulgence. EVERY SIN.
He died for them all.

What was that like? What was it like to bear a burden so heavy and grotesque that The Almighty God, the person he had complete and perfect unity with, turned his face and separated himself from his only begotten son? I can’t imagine bearing the weight of my sins alone, much less the entire worlds. And I can’t imagine the utter loneliness and abandonment Jesus had felt as he was separated from his Father for the first time.

Not one of us could have endured that, and even if by some impossible measure someone tried to, their sacrifice wouldn’t have been sufficient.

Only God could perfectly satisfy the requirements of the law and the punishment for sin.

And yet only a God that was fully human too.

Jesus had to take a human body so he could save our bodies. He had to take a human mind so he could sanctify the evil thoughts of our twisted minds. Without becoming like man in his emotions, he could not have rescued our hearts. And without taking a human will, he could not have saved our broken and wandering wills.

He was a man in full.

Every physical and emotional pain we can imagine he endured at the cross, and more.

Every sin he bore cut at his heart deeper than we’ll every know.

Christ put on our feelings as well as our flesh.

He was a man. He probably had Uncles that he went on fishing trips with. He had markets and meadows and towns that he loved.. Maybe he liked sunsets better than sunrises. Maybe his mom used to make him a special food on his birthday.

He was a man.

A man who laughed and danced and ate and wept.

A man who died for you and me.

Today as you ponder Good Friday, reflect on that truth. Reflect on the great mystery of Jesus’ full divinity and humanity.

No one else could have saved us from our sins and rose again three days later. No one else could have forgiven the ones who nailed him to that cross and also each and every one of us who required him to go there in the first place.

And no one else could have looked up to heaven with tears in his eyes and joy in his heart, and yelled with his last breath as sweat and blood poured down his limbs,

“IT IS FINISHED!!!”