Romans 5:8 “Christ died for us.”
Here is a simple sentence of four words. The first two words state an historical act: “Christ died.” The second two add the theological significance: “for us.” The full four form the heart of the Gospel: “Christ died for us.” Never did four short words hold a bigger or better message.
Isaac Watts, in his immortal hymn, “When I survey the wondrous Cross,” could not have chosen a truer adjective than “wondrous.” From every aspect our Lord’s death on Calvary is “wondrous.” Most of all is it so, in its intermingling of tragedy and inspiration, ugliness and loveliness.
Just ponder that historical act: “Christ died.” Think again of the fact that He died. That in itself is a strange marvel. Remember, He was God the Son. He had to become human in order to be even capable of death (Heb. 2: 9, 14). It is a mysterious wonder that God the Son could die; still more that He should die; still more that He would die; and most of all that He did die.
Ponder again the place where He died. We ourselves may hope to die in our own homes surrounded by our loved ones; but our Lord was led out to Calvary, the very atmosphere of which was permeated with a gruesome eeriness. Many a crime-stained felon had been torturously executed there, with foul language and wild shrieks and blasphemous oaths pouring from their lips.
Ponder again of the death that He died. He was crucified – the most lingering and torturously excruciating of all legally inflicted killings; and not only so, but the most shameful, exposed, humiliating, infamous and accursed of all executions. It was the lowest, hardest, and most degrading of all deaths.
Ponder again with whom He died. It was not with a group of noble martyrs, giving themselves for a lofty cause, and bravely sealing their godly testimony with their own blood. No, it was between two criminals, two gangsters, two foul-mouthed murderers, who reviled Him. There He was, propped up between the two, as though worse than either – suspended between earth and heaven, as though fit for neither!
Ponder again of the way Jesus died. Although He had been treacherously betrayed, unjustly condemned, brutally bullied, whipped, mocked, and nailed there in agony, without one single crime that could be laid against Him, His first cry was, “Father, forgive them; for they know not what they do”! Even the sarcastic, gloating Pharisees confessed, when once they had Him nailed up there, “He saved others . . .” (Mark 15: 31).
To eyes that can really see things, His birth at Bethlehem was all the lovelier because it was in the rough stable; and His loveliness in death was all the more sublime because of the very ugliness which surrounded it on Calvary.
Yes, ponder it all again: “Christ died.” It really happened, on that stark hill outside old Jerusalem: the most startling event of all the ages; the most incomprehensible mystery in all creation. He who built the pillars of the universe hung there on a rough wooden cross – a disfigured corpse, on that rugged and despised cross!
No wonder Isaac Watts expects us to, “pour contempt on all our pride.”