Good Friday: The Power of His Love

Good Friday: The Power of His Love

This is the sixth post of an eight-day devotional designed to lead you to praise Christ each day of the week preceding Easter. Thanks for joining in!

The trials were over. The crowds who had shouted praises on Sunday had clamored for His death just a few hours ago, whipped into a frenzy by well-placed agitators. Pilate had wavered, believing Him innocent, but in the end refused to intervene—washing his hands of the matter. A decision had been rendered.

Jesus would die the gruesome death of a criminal: crucifixion.

Sick at heart, the disciples had watched from a distance as Jesus—bloodied and exhausted—dragged His own cross through the streets of Jerusalem. When He could go no further, a man named Simon was pressed into service, forced to carry His cross out of the city and up Calvary’s hill.

The nauseating sound of hammer on spike could be heard for a great distance; His followers cringed with every blow. And now—unbelievably—there He was, his dying form suspended against the darkening sky. The only disciple courageous enough to join the women at the foot of the cross was John. The rest cowered in the city, directionless and afraid.

Do you see Him there? Can you grasp what He was there to do? Do you understand that the spikes in His hands and feet were not what held Him to the cross? Love held Him there—love so deep that He became sin for you. “God made Him who had no sin to be sin for us, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God.” (2 Cor. 5:21)

Let your mind “see” the cross. Let the power of His love sweep over you as you sing to Him the words of this beautiful hymn of praise.

When I survey the wondrous cross on which the Prince of glory died,
my richest gain I count but loss and pour contempt on all my pride.

Forbid it, Lord, that I should boast save in the death of Christ, my God;
all the vain things that charm me most—I sacrifice them to His blood.

See from His head, His hands, His feet, sorrow and love flow mingled down;
did e’er such love and sorrow meet, or thorns compose so rich a crown?

Were the whole realm of nature mine, that were a present far too small:
Love so amazing, so divine, demands my soul, my life, my all.

© Diane McLoud 2015

When I Survey the Wondrous Cross by Isaac Watts, public domain.

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