This is a favourite passage of mine, especially at Easter time: a brutally honest reminder of Jesus’ sacrifice for all of humanity. When it came up as my verse of the day on Maundy Thursday, I spent my quiet time reflecting on the entirety of Isaiah 53. Three words stood out to me: wounded, crushed and healed.
Wounded
What Jesus endured in that period of time becomes more and more incomprehensible as I get older. Not only did he experience enormous physical pain, but he must have also felt incredible emotional and spiritual pain too. Jesus was alone. Not lonely, but alone, abandoned and separated from all he knew and loved. He was, after all, human and capable of feeling the full range of our human emotions. When was the last time you felt alone?
For me, it was 4 weeks after my daughter was born. Despite knowing that there would be times of loneliness in motherhood, I wasn’t prepared for how I felt that Wednesday. I didn’t just feel lonely, I felt alone. Isolated. I remember sobbing, whilst my husband and I walked around the block with our daughter. Probably a mixture of postnatal hormones, being an extrovert, and leaving a noisy, busy working environment led to these feelings. It was further compounded by the lack of baby groups, as it was half term, and the fact that I hadn’t really made mummy friends yet.
But I wasn’t alone. Not really. In fact, my husband suggested I send a message to a friend whose little girl is a year older than ours. I did, and she replied instantly. The next morning I was at her house, finding that she too had felt this way, and it did get better. Even if she hadn’t replied though, I wasn’t alone. I had God. I have God. I will always have God. In the darkness of death, however, Jesus really was alone. He was cut off by our sin and his death, and abandoned spiritually for 3 days.
Yet another reason why Jesus’ sacrifice means so much to me this Easter. It means I am never alone, even at 3 o’clock in the morning when I’m sat feeding my daughter in the literal dark. Even when she has one of those nights, like last night, where she just has no interest in doing anything other than grazing on me. I might be tired. I might be lonely. But I am not alone, and this passage is yet another reminder of that.
Crushed
Something else hit me whilst reading this passage. My sin literally crushed Jesus. And my daughter’s sin will also literally crush Jesus. When I look at my daughter, I see beauty and joy. I see love and happiness. But what I see mostly is hope. She has so much potential, and no-one (except God) knows what that unique potential could lead to. Right now, she isn’t capable of doing a whole lot, because she’s only 9 weeks old. But in the future, who knows what she will be able to do. To think of the endless possibilities, as I gaze into those lovely eyes, is really quite mind blowing. So. Much. Hope.
And so, it hadn’t occurred to me until I read this passage, that my beautiful, perfect daughter is the same as me. She will sin, and those sins play a part in the Easter story. They nail Jesus to the cross.
What it also means though, is that Jesus’ sacrifice is also a story of great hope for my daughter. What a wonderful, beautiful truth that is to behold. It makes this first Easter as a mother all the more exciting. This truth isn’t just for me and my husband anymore. Not just for the people we encounter on the street, or at work. It is a truth for our most precious loved one. A truth for us to share with her as she grows.
Healed
This is what it comes down to. Humanity suffers from a dreadful illness (sin) which leads to eternal death. Except it doesn’t have to. Tomorrow, Christians across the world will celebrate Jesus’ resurrection. Why? Because it means eternal healing. All that sin, all that death, completely paid for by his blood. We. Are. Healed.
2000-ish years ago, an ordinary man from Galilee arrived in Jerusalem with his friends. This man had drawn crowds, and proved a popular speaker. He spoke words of hope and truth; words which shone a light in the darkness. This man’s wisdom and compassion had ruffled some feathers with leaders of the established church of the time. These leaders plotted and were complicit in setting up an arrest, trial and death sentence. What was this man’s crime? He claimed to be the Messiah. The Christ. This man was mocked, whipped, and nailed to a cross. He died, on a piece of wood, cut off from those who he loved.
“Who do you say I am?” Jesus asked his disciples, before he died.
I say he is the only son of God. I say he is the bringer of truth and hope and light. I say he is the greatest ever teacher, and the world’s healer.
Who do you say he is?
A New Mission 