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-sd

thepassiongroup wrote:

 
The movie "The Passion" has created quite an interest in spiritual
issues amoung Christians and non-Christians lately. There is now a
book that describes the events surrounding the cross. It is
called "The Passion of Christ's Love". This book is now available for
reading online. Please forward this message to the people in your
address book.
 

THE PASSION OF CHRIST'S LOVE

Chapter 1: Gethsemane
 

[This chapter is based on Matt. 26:36-56; Mark 14:32-50; Luke 22:39-
53; John 18:1-12.]

In company with His disciples, the Saviour slowly made His way to the
garden of Gethsemane. The Passover moon, broad and full, shone from a
cloudless sky. The city of pilgrims' tents was hushed into silence.

Jesus had been earnestly conversing with His disciples and
instructing them; but as He neared Gethsemane, He became strangely
silent. He had often visited this spot for meditation and prayer; but
never with a heart so full of sorrow as upon this night of His last
agony. Throughout His life on earth He had walked in the light of
God's presence. When in conflict with men who were inspired by the
very spirit of Satan, He could say, "He that sent Me is with Me: the
Father hath not left Me alone; for I do always those things that
please Him." John 8:29. But now He seemed to be shut out from the
light of God's sustaining presence. Now He was numbered with the
transgressors. The guilt of fallen humanity He must bear. Upon Him
who knew no sin must be laid the iniquity of us all. So dreadful does
sin appear to Him, so great is the weight of guilt which He must
bear, that He is tempted to fear it will shut Him out forever from
His Father's love. Feeling how terrible is the wrath of God against
transgression, He exclaims, "My soul is exceeding sorrowful, even
unto death."

As they approached the garden, the disciples had marked the change
that came over their Master. Never before had they seen Him so
utterly sad and silent. As He proceeded, this strange sadness
deepened; yet they dared not question Him as to the cause. His form
swayed as if He were about to fall. Upon reaching the garden, the
disciples looked anxiously for His usual place of retirement, that
their Master might rest. Every step that He now took was with labored
effort. He groaned aloud, as if suffering under the pressure of a
terrible burden. Twice His companions supported Him, or He would have
fallen to the earth.
Near the entrance to the garden, Jesus left all but three of the
disciples, bidding them pray for themselves and for Him. With Peter,
James, and John, He entered its secluded recesses. These three
disciples were Christ's closest companions. They had beheld His glory
on the mount of transfiguration; they had seen Moses and Elijah
talking with Him; they had heard the voice from heaven; now in His
great struggle, Christ desired their presence near Him. Often they
had passed the night with Him in this retreat. On these occasions,
after a season of watching and prayer, they would sleep undisturbed
at a little distance from their Master, until He awoke them in the
morning to go forth anew to labor. But now He desired them to spend
the night with Him in prayer. Yet He could not bear that even they
should witness the agony He was to endure.

"Tarry ye here," He said, "and watch with Me." He went a little
distance from them--not so far but that they could both see and hear
Him--and fell prostrate upon the ground. He felt that by sin He was
being separated from His Father. The gulf was so broad, so black, so
deep, that His spirit shuddered before it. This agony He must not
exert His divine power to escape. As man He must suffer the
consequences of man's sin. As man He must endure the wrath of God
against transgression.

Christ was now standing in a different attitude from that in which He
had ever stood before. His suffering can best be described in the
words of the prophet, "Awake, O sword, against My shepherd, and
against the man that is My fellow, saith the Lord of hosts." Zech.
13:7. As the substitute and surety for sinful man, Christ was
suffering under divine justice. He saw what justice meant. Hitherto
He had been as an intercessor for others; now He longed to have an
intercessor for Himself.

As Christ felt His unity with the Father broken up, He feared that in
His human nature He would be unable to endure the coming conflict
with the powers of darkness. In the wilderness of temptation the
destiny of the human race had been at stake. Christ was then
conqueror. Now the tempter had come for the last fearful struggle.
For this he had been preparing during the three years of Christ's
ministry. Everything was at stake with him. If he failed here, his
hope of mastery was lost; the kingdoms of the world would finally
become Christ's; he himself would be overthrown and cast out. But if
Christ could be overcome, the earth would become Satan's kingdom, and
the human race would be forever in his power. With the issues of the
conflict before Him, Christ's soul was filled with dread of
separation from God. Satan told Him that if He became the surety for
a sinful world, the separation would be eternal. He would be
identified with Satan's kingdom, and would nevermore be one with God.
And what was to be gained by this sacrifice? How hopeless appeared
the guilt and ingratitude of men! In its hardest features Satan
pressed the situation upon the Redeemer: The people who claim to be
above all others in temporal and spiritual advantages have rejected
You. They are seeking to destroy You, the foundation, the center and
seal of the promises made to them as a peculiar people. One of Your
own disciples, who has listened to Your instruction, and has been
among the foremost in church activities, will betray You. One of Your
most zealous followers will deny You. All will forsake You. Christ's
whole being abhorred the thought. That those whom He had undertaken
to save, those whom He loved so much, should unite in the plots of
Satan, this pierced His soul. The conflict was terrible. Its measure
was the guilt of His nation, of His accusers and betrayer, the guilt
of a world lying in wickedness. The sins of men weighed heavily upon
Christ, and the sense of God's wrath against sin was crushing out His
life.

Behold Him contemplating the price to be paid for the human soul. In
His agony He clings to the cold ground, as if to prevent Himself from
being drawn farther from God. The chilling dew of night falls upon
His prostrate form, but He heeds it not. From His pale lips comes the
bitter cry, "O My Father, if it be possible, let this cup pass from
Me." Yet even now He adds, "Nevertheless not as I will, but as Thou
wilt."

The human heart longs for sympathy in suffering. This longing Christ
felt to the very depths of His being. In the supreme agony of His
soul He came to His disciples with a yearning desire to hear some
words of comfort from those whom He had so often blessed and
comforted, and shielded in sorrow and distress. The One who had
always had words of sympathy for them was now suffering superhuman
agony, and He longed to know that they were praying for Him and for
themselves. How dark seemed the malignity of sin! Terrible was the
temptation to let the human race bear the consequences of its own
guilt, while He stood innocent before God. If He could only know that
His disciples understood and appreciated this, He would be
strengthened. Rising with painful effort, He staggered to the place
where He had left His companions. But He "findeth them asleep." Had
He found them praying, He would have been relieved. Had they been
seeking refuge in God, that satanic agencies might not prevail over
them, He would have been comforted by their steadfast faith. But they
had not heeded the repeated warning, "Watch and pray." At first they
had been much troubled to see their Master, usually so calm and
dignified, wrestling with a sorrow that was beyond comprehension.
They had prayed as they heard the strong cries of the sufferer. They
did not intend to forsake their Lord, but they seemed paralyzed by a
stupor which they might have shaken off if they had continued
pleading with God. They did not realize the necessity of watchfulness
and earnest prayer in order to withstand temptation.

Just before He bent His footsteps to the garden, Jesus had said to
the disciples, "All ye shall be offended because of Me this night."
They had given Him the strongest assurance that they would go with
Him to prison and to death. And poor, self-sufficient Peter had
added, "Although all shall be offended, yet will not I." Mark 14:27,
29. But the disciples trusted to themselves. They did not look to the
mighty Helper as Christ had counseled them to do. Thus when the
Saviour was most in need of their sympathy and prayers, they were
found asleep. Even Peter was sleeping. And John, the loving disciple
who had leaned upon the breast of Jesus, was asleep. Surely, the love
of John for his Master should have kept him awake. His earnest
prayers should have mingled with those of his loved Saviour in the
time of His supreme sorrow. The Redeemer had spent entire nights
praying for His disciples, that their faith might not fail. Should
Jesus now put to James and John the question He had once asked
them, "Are ye able to drink of the cup that I shall drink of, and to
be baptized with the baptism that I am baptized with?" they would not
have ventured to answer, "We are able." Matt. 20:22.

The disciples awakened at the voice of Jesus, but they hardly knew
Him, His face was so changed by anguish. Addressing Peter, Jesus
said, "Simon, sleepest thou? couldest not thou watch one hour? Watch
ye and pray, lest ye enter into temptation. The spirit truly is
ready, but the flesh is weak." The weakness of His disciples awakened
the sympathy of Jesus. He feared that they would not be able to
endure the test which would come upon them in His betrayal and death.
He did not reprove them, but said, "Watch ye and pray, lest ye enter
into temptation." Even in His great agony, He was seeking to excuse
their weakness. "The spirit truly is ready," He said, "but the flesh
is weak."

Again the Son of God was seized with superhuman agony, and fainting
and exhausted, He staggered back to the place of His former struggle.
His suffering was even greater than before. As the agony of soul came
upon Him, "His sweat was as it were great drops of blood falling down
to the ground." The cypress and palm trees were the silent witnesses
of His anguish. From their leafy branches dropped heavy dew upon His
stricken form, as if nature wept over its Author wrestling alone with
the powers of darkness.

A short time before, Jesus had stood like a mighty cedar,
withstanding the storm of opposition that spent its fury upon Him.
Stubborn wills, and hearts filled with malice and subtlety, had
striven in vain to confuse and overpower Him. He stood forth in
divine majesty as the Son of God. Now He was like a reed beaten and
bent by the angry storm. He had approached the consummation of His
work a conqueror, having at each step gained the victory over the
powers of darkness. As one already glorified, He had claimed oneness
with God. In unfaltering accents He had poured out His songs of
praise. He had spoken to His disciples in words of courage and
tenderness. Now had come the hour of the power of darkness. Now His
voice was heard on the still evening air, not in tones of triumph,
but full of human anguish. The words of the Saviour were borne to the
ears of the drowsy disciples, "O My Father, if this cup may not pass
away from Me, except I drink it, Thy will be done."

The first impulse of the disciples was to go to Him; but He had
bidden them tarry there, watching unto prayer. When Jesus came to
them, He found them still sleeping. Again He had felt a longing for
companionship, for some words from His disciples which would bring
relief, and break the spell of darkness that well-nigh overpowered
Him. But their eyes were heavy; "neither wist they what to answer
Him." His presence aroused them. They saw His face marked with the
bloody sweat of agony, and they were filled with fear. His anguish of
mind they could not understand. "His visage was so marred more than
any man, and His form more than the sons of men." Isa. 52:14.

Turning away, Jesus sought again His retreat, and fell prostrate,
overcome by the horror of a great darkness. The humanity of the Son
of God trembled in that trying hour. He prayed not now for His
disciples that their faith might not fail, but for His own tempted,
agonized soul. The awful moment had come--that moment which was to
decide the destiny of the world. The fate of humanity trembled in the
balance. Christ might even now refuse to drink the cup apportioned to
guilty man. It was not yet too late. He might wipe the bloody sweat
from His brow, and leave man to perish in his iniquity. He might say,
Let the transgressor receive the penalty of his sin, and I will go
back to My Father. Will the Son of God drink the bitter cup of
humiliation and agony? Will the innocent suffer the consequences of
the curse of sin, to save the guilty? The words fall tremblingly from
the pale lips of Jesus, "O My Father, if this cup may not pass away
from Me, except I drink it, Thy will be done."

Three times has He uttered that prayer. Three times has humanity
shrunk from the last, crowning sacrifice. But now the history of the
human race comes up before the world's Redeemer. He sees that the
transgressors of the law, if left to themselves, must perish. He sees
the helplessness of man. He sees the power of sin. The woes and
lamentations of a doomed world rise before Him. He beholds its
impending fate, and His decision is made. He will save man at any
cost to Himself. He accepts His baptism of blood, that through Him
perishing millions may gain everlasting life. He has left the courts
of heaven, where all is purity, happiness, and glory, to save the one
lost sheep, the one world that has fallen by transgression. And He
will not turn from His mission. He will become the propitiation of a
race that has willed to sin. His prayer now breathes only
submission: "If this cup may not pass away from Me, except I drink
it, Thy will be done." Having made the decision, He fell dying to the
ground from which He had partially risen. Where now were His
disciples, to place their hands tenderly beneath the head of their
fainting Master, and bathe that brow, marred indeed more than the
sons of men? The Saviour trod the wine press alone, and of the people
there was none with Him.

But God suffered with His Son. Angels beheld the Saviour's agony.
They saw their Lord enclosed by legions of satanic forces, His nature
weighed down with a shuddering, mysterious dread. There was silence
in heaven. No harp was touched. Could mortals have viewed the
amazement of the angelic host as in silent grief they watched the
Father separating His beams of light, love, and glory from His
beloved Son, they would better understand how offensive in His sight
is sin.

The worlds unfallen and the heavenly angels had watched with intense
interest as the conflict drew to its close. Satan and his confederacy
of evil, the legions of apostasy, watched intently this great crisis
in the work of redemption. The powers of good and evil waited to see
what answer would come to Christ's thrice-repeated prayer. Angels had
longed to bring relief to the divine sufferer, but this might not be.
No way of escape was found for the Son of God. In this awful crisis,
when everything was at stake, when the mysterious cup trembled in the
hand of the sufferer, the heavens opened, a light shone forth amid
the stormy darkness of the crisis hour, and the mighty angel who
stands in God's presence, occupying the position from which Satan
fell, came to the side of Christ. The angel came not to take the cup
from Christ's hand, but to strengthen Him to drink it, with the
assurance of the Father's love. He came to give power to the divine-
human suppliant. He pointed Him to the open heavens, telling Him of
the souls that would be saved as the result of His sufferings. He
assured Him that His Father is greater and more powerful than Satan,
that His death would result in the utter discomfiture of Satan, and
that the kingdom of this world would be given to the saints of the
Most High. He told Him that He would see of the travail of His soul,
and be satisfied, for He would see a multitude of the human race
saved, eternally saved. Christ's agony did not cease, but His
depression and discouragement left Him. The storm had in nowise
abated, but He who was its object was strengthened to meet its fury.
He came forth calm and serene. A heavenly peace rested upon His
bloodstained face. He had borne that which no human being could ever
bear; for He had tasted the sufferings of death for every man.

The sleeping disciples had been suddenly awakened by the light
surrounding the Saviour. They saw the angel bending over their
prostrate Master. They saw him lift the Saviour's head upon his
bosom, and point toward heaven. They heard his voice, like sweetest
music, speaking words of comfort and hope. The disciples recalled the
scene upon the mount of transfiguration. They remembered the glory
that in the temple had encircled Jesus, and the voice of God that
spoke from the cloud. Now that same glory was again revealed, and
they had no further fear for their Master. He was under the care of
God; a mighty angel had been sent to protect Him. Again the disciples
in their weariness yield to the strange stupor that overpowers them.
Again Jesus finds them sleeping.

Looking sorrowfully upon them He says, "Sleep on now, and take your
rest: behold, the hour is at hand, and the Son of man is betrayed
into the hands of sinners." Even as He spoke these words, He heard
the footsteps of the mob in search of Him, and said, "Rise, let us be
going: behold, he is at hand that doth betray Me."

No traces of His recent agony were visible as Jesus stepped forth to
meet His betrayer. Standing in advance of His disciples He
said, "Whom seek ye?" They answered, "Jesus of Nazareth." Jesus
replied, "I am He." As these words were spoken, the angel who had
lately ministered to Jesus moved between Him and the mob. A divine
light illuminated the Saviour's face, and a dovelike form
overshadowed Him. In the presence of this divine glory, the murderous
throng could not stand for a moment. They staggered back. Priests,
elders, soldiers, and even Judas, fell as dead men to the ground.

The angel withdrew, and the light faded away. Jesus had opportunity
to escape, but He remained, calm and self-possessed. As one glorified
He stood in the midst of that hardened band, now prostrate and
helpless at His feet. The disciples looked on, silent with wonder and
awe. But quickly the scene changed. The mob started up. The Roman
soldiers, the priests and Judas, gathered about Christ. They seemed
ashamed of their weakness, and fearful that He would yet escape.
Again the question was asked by the Redeemer, "Whom seek ye?" They
had had evidence that He who stood before them was the Son of God,
but they would not be convinced. To the question, "Whom seek ye?"
again they answered, "Jesus of Nazareth." The Saviour then said, "I
have told you that I am He: if therefore ye seek Me, let these go
their way"--pointing to the disciples. He knew how weak was their
faith, and He sought to shield them from temptation and trial. For
them He was ready to sacrifice Himself. Judas the betrayer did not
forget the part he was to act. When the mob entered the garden, he
had led the way, closely followed by the high priest. To the pursuers
of Jesus he had given a sign, saying, "Whomsoever I shall kiss, that
same is He: hold Him fast." Matt. 26:48. Now he pretends to have no
part with them. Coming close to

Jesus, he takes His hand as a familiar friend. With the words, "Hail,
Master," he kisses Him repeatedly, and appears to weep as if in
sympathy with Him in His peril. Jesus said to him, "Friend, wherefore
art thou come?" His voice trembled with sorrow as He added, "Judas,
betrayest thou the Son of man with a kiss?" This appeal should have
aroused the conscience of the betrayer, and touched his stubborn
heart; but honor, fidelity, and human tenderness had forsaken him. He
stood bold and defiant, showing no disposition to relent. He had
given himself up to Satan, and he had no power to resist him. Jesus
did not refuse the traitor's kiss. The mob grew bold as they saw
Judas touch the person of Him who had so recently been glorified
before their eyes. They now laid hold of Jesus, and proceeded to bind
those precious hands that had ever been employed in doing good.

The disciples had thought that their Master would not suffer Himself
to be taken. For the same power that had caused the mob to fall as
dead men could keep them helpless, until Jesus and His companions
should escape. They were disappointed and indignant as they saw the
cords brought forward to bind the hands of Him whom they loved. Peter
in his anger rashly drew his sword and tried to defend his Master,
but he only cut off an ear of the high priest's servant. When Jesus
saw what was done, He released His hands, though held firmly by the
Roman soldiers, and saying, "Suffer ye thus far," He touched the
wounded ear, and it was instantly made whole. He then said to
Peter, "Put up again thy sword into his place: for all they that take
the sword shall perish with the sword. Thinkest thou that I cannot
now pray to My Father, and He shall presently give Me more than
twelve legions of angels?"--a legion in place of each one of the
disciples. Oh, why, the disciples thought, does He not save Himself
and us? Answering their unspoken thought, He added, "But how then
shall the scriptures be fulfilled, that thus it must be?" "The cup
which My Father hath given Me, shall I not drink it?" The official
dignity of the Jewish leaders had not prevented them from joining in
the pursuit of Jesus. His arrest was too important a matter to be
trusted to subordinates; the wily priests and elders had joined the
temple police and the rabble in following Judas to Gethsemane. What a
company for those dignitaries to unite with--a mob that was eager for
excitement, and armed with all kinds of implements, as if in pursuit
of a wild beast!

Turning to the priests and elders, Christ fixed upon them His
searching glance. The words He spoke they would never forget as long
as life should last. They were as the sharp arrows of the Almighty.
With dignity He said: You come out against Me with swords and staves
as you would against a thief or a robber. Day by day I sat teaching
in the temple. You had every opportunity of laying hands upon Me, and
you did nothing. The night is better suited to your work. "This is
your hour, and the power of darkness."

The disciples were terrified as they saw Jesus permit Himself to be
taken and bound. They were offended that He should suffer this
humiliation to Himself and them. They could not understand His
conduct, and they blamed Him for submitting to the mob. In their
indignation and fear, Peter proposed that they save themselves.
Following this suggestion, "they all forsook Him, and fled." But
Christ had foretold this desertion, "Behold," He had said, "the hour
cometh, yea, is now come, that ye shall be scattered, every man to
his own, and shall leave Me alone: and yet I am not alone, because
the Father is with Me." John 16:32.

Read chapter two online at this site:

http://www.geocities.com/barabbas_ii/passion.htm

or Bible studies:
http://www.cardinalavenue.com/tld/

God bless,

Troy Reynolds
 
 
 
 

--
-Sue Darnell
(mexican_gifts)
http://www.stores.ebay.com/mexicansilverandstuff