One thing we are taught by the betrayal and desertion of Christ, is the loneliness of his sufferings.
Another thing, taught us by this part of our Saviour’s history is—his willingness to suffer.
We often make up our minds to suffer certain things, because we have no power to help it. But it was not so with Jesus. He had power enough to have saved himself from suffering, if he had chosen to do so. Sometime before this, when he was speaking to his disciples about his death, or, as he called it, laying down his life, he said—“No man taketh it from me, but I lay it down of myself. I have power to lay it down, and I have power to take it again.” John x: 18. And he showed plainly what his power was at the very time of his betrayal. When his enemies came to take him, he “went forth, and said unto them, Whom seek ye? They answered him, Jesus of Nazareth. Jesus saith unto them, I am he.” John xviii: 4. But he put such wonderful power into these simple words—“I am he”—that, the moment they heard them, the whole multitude, soldiers, servants, and all, fell to the ground before him. It was nothing but the power of Jesus which produced this strange effect. It seems as if Jesus did this, on purpose to show that the mighty power by which he had healed the sick, and raised the dead, and cast out devils, and walked on the water, and controlled the stormy winds and waves, was in him still. He was not taken by his enemies because he had no power to help himself. The same power which made his enemies fall to the ground with a word could have held them there while he walked away; or could have scattered them, as the chaff is scattered by the whirlwind; or could have made the earth open and swallow them up. But he did not choose to exercise it in any of these ways. He was willing to suffer for us; and so he allowed himself to be taken.
As the Jews were seizing him Peter drew his sword, and smote one of the servants of the high-priest, and cut off his right ear. Jesus touched the ear, and healed it, in a moment, thus showing again what power he had. Then he told Peter to put up his sword, and said—“Thinkest thou that I cannot now pray to my Father, and he shall presently give me more than twelve legions of angels?” St. Matt. xxvi: 53. A full Roman legion contained six thousand men. Jesus had power enough in his own arm to keep himself from being taken, if he had chosen to use it. And more than seventy thousand angels would have flown with lightning speed to his deliverance, if he had but lifted his finger; or said—“come.” There was so much power in himself, and so much power in heaven, at his command, that all the soldiers Rome ever had could not have taken him, unless he had been willing to be taken. But he was willing. And when they came to crucify him, all the nails ever made could not have fastened him to the cross, unless he had been willing to be fastened there. But his wonderful love for you and for me and for a world of lost sinners, made him willing to be fastened there, to suffer and to die, that our sins might be pardoned and that we might enter heaven.
And it is the thought of this amazing love of Christ, making him willing to suffer for us, which gives to the story of the cross the marvellous power it has to melt the hardest hearts and win the worst of men to his service. There is a power in love to do what nothing else can do,—to make men good and holy. And this is what we are taught when told that—“Christ suffered for sins, the just for the unjust, that he might bring us to God.” I. Peter iii: 18. And when we find people acting in this way towards each other in everyday life it has just the same effect. Here is an illustration of what I mean. We may call it:
“The Power of Love; or, The Just for the Unjust.” In a town near Paris, is a school for teaching poor homeless boys who are found wandering about the streets of that city and are growing up in idleness and crime.
When one of the boys breaks the rules of the school and deserves punishment, the rest of the school are called together, like a jury, to decide what shall be done with the offender. One of the punishments is confinement for several days in a dungeon, called “the black-hole.” The prisoner is put on a short allowance of food, and, of course, forfeits all the liberties of the other boys.
After the boys have, in this way, passed sentence on one of their companions and the master approves of it, this question is put to the rest of the school:—“Will any of you become this boy’s substitute? i. e., take his place, and bear his punishment, and let him go free?” And it generally happens that some little friend of the criminal comes forward and offers to bear the punishment instead of him. Then the only punishment the real offender has to bear is to carry the bread and water to his friend as long as he is confined in the dungeon. In this way, it generally happens that the most stubborn and hard-hearted boys are melted down, by seeing their companions willingly suffering for them what they know they deserved to suffer themselves.
Jesus is Scourged