“Descend Now from the Cross”
By C. G. Bellah
He Who Commanded Worlds Would Not Save Himself “LET Christ . . . descend now from the cross, that we may see and believe.” Mark 15:32. The disciples never knew how much they loved Jesus, nor His enemies how much they hated Him, until the afternoon of that fateful black Friday, when the sinner’s Friend hanged bleeding on Calvary. While the disciples were fearful, and did the least, the devils were furious, and did the most. Ever since that glorious night when the angels sang the cradle song over the manger Babe, Satan had made the Master’s life one of bitter reproach and shame among men. Now he summoned all the infernal hosts of the underworld, and, in a last, supreme effort, flung the taunting bid in the face of the world’s Redeemer, “Descend now from the cross, that we may see.” Lonely, forsaken, suffering, dying, the Saviour trod the wine press alone. Old mother earth veiled herself in mourning, for her Lord was dying. Even the Father mercifully flung the somber drapery of darkness over the cross, as if to shut out the awful sight. Methinks I can hear the dying Saviour say, “I could have borne the humble birth among oxen, the lonely nights with birds and foxes, the bitter persecution of My chosen people, the treacherous betrayal of Judas, the cowardly denial of Peter, and even this ignominious death on the cross; but, oh, ‘My God, My God, why hast Thou forsaken Me?’” Will He descend from the cross?—Never! He could have come down, and struck His persecutors dead. Yea, He could have wiped the earth out of existence with one stroke of His mighty hand, and swept back in peace to the Father. But He did not. And why?—“For the joy that was set before Him,” He “endured the cross, despising the shame.” Heb. 12:2. For the joy! It was not the spikes that held Christ to the cross, but the cries of His children for help. Those ears which had never been deaf to the cry of need, now heard the piteous woes and lamentations of a lost world arise in a mighty, irresistible appeal. He grips the rusty nails a little tighter in His pierced hands, and says, “I’ll not descend.” If He descended, all was lost; if He remained, all might be saved. The Father had gathered together all the sins of the whole world, and laid them upon His dying Son. Now the Son, in the last, crucial effort, will perish to save a lost humanity. Friends, come with me this morning, and let us ascend Mount Calvary, and walk softly around the three crosses. Let us come tenderly near to the middle one. And be careful where your feet tread, for there is blood at the foot—the royal blood of a King, a Brother. Like the man who allowed his brother to slay him on the threshold of his home, that if he went to destruction, it would be over the blood of his kin, so with Christ. Every sinner who is lost must trample beneath unhallowed feet the blood of an elder Brother. So, let us be careful. How came this middle cross there?—Ah, it was carried by the Redeemer Himself. Like Isaac of old, He carried the wood of His own sacrifice, and the Father provided an offering. He was under the cross while ascending the mount; now He is on it. When the cross was upon Him, He went down; but never when He is on the cross. This wonderful, blood-stained cross, set deep in the unclothed bosom of mother earth, reached its bare head up towards heaven, and stretched its mighty arms outward, as if to say, “Look unto me, and be ye saved, all ye ends of the earth.” In it indeed is comprehended the height, and depth, and length, and breadth of the wonderful love of the Master. Sculptured on Throbbing Hearts
The cross had been a symbol of shame and dishonor. It had been the instrument of death to the guiltiest of the guilty, for thieves and felons. Since A. D. 31, it has been a token of the highest honor. Hence we have the Red Cross, the White Cross, the Victorian Cross, et cetera; until to-day there is scarcely a patch of coral anywhere in the ocean, large enough for the foot of man, where the wonderful story of the cross has not been told, and its mighty, transforming power felt. But let us not forget what the cross is, and what it is not. It is not the glittering shaft on the church steeple that proudly lifts itself toward heaven. It is not the chiseled ornament crowning the monument of the dead. It is not even the gilded design stamped on the cover of Holy Writ. Ah, no! These are but costly and unprofitable imitations. Putting the crucifix on everything, is not like putting everything on the cross. The devil knows the immense difference between a powerless crucifix and the powerful cross. Yea, it is not the crucifix754on spire, tombstone, or Bible, but the blessed sacrifice of Jesus in the church, sculptured on the throbbing heart of the living, and securely woven through every page of Holy Writ. Never descend from the cross! There you find the way to the loving heart of the Master, and there only are you safe. John says, “One of the soldiers with a spear pierced His side, and forthwith came there out blood and water.” The cruel sword of the Roman found its bloody path to the heart of the Master, and opened up a way to the lost children of men. There were two rendings on the fateful day of the crucifixion. Not only the purple veil of the temple was rent in twain, thus ending the old dispensation; but the scarlet veil of the Saviour’s heart was rent, ushering in the new. Both were rent, never to close again. The work of the one forever ended, the other goes on till the end. The way to His heart is ample. After the resurrection, Christ said to Thomas, Thrust thy hand into My side. A big, gaping, ugly wound it was, that did not heal without a scar. As God opened the side of the first Adam, to prepare for him an earthly bride, so now the second, yea, the last Adam’s side was opened, that the Lamb’s wife might be presented without spot or blemish. The work for the first was performed while he was wrapped in unconscious slumber; for the second, while He was enfolded in the lethe of death. And what became of the flaming sword that kept the way of the garden after sin came in?—Ah, the Master took it into His own throbbing bosom, and victoriously cried, “O death, where is thy sting?” Like the envenomed bee, death left its poisonous sting in the body of the injured. On a barren pathway in the desert, the bleaching bones of an adventurer are seen. As we near the oasis, more are found. Reaching what had once been a sparkling well, but was evidently dry at the time of the pilgrim’s march, we find on the very brink a skeleton, with the hand outstretched over the edge, as if to dip the cooling draught. Thus he had perished, for the well was dry. Later the refreshing rains had filled the well, and the cooling liquid was now laving the brow, kissing the cheek, and playing in the matted tresses of the dead, as if in painful mockery. The well of the skull, as it was afterwards called, was filled too late for the dying pilgrim. Not so on Calvary. The crimson stream that came from the Master’s side has welled into a mighty, unfailing fountain. Golgotha, the place of a skull, has become Calvary, the place of salvation. The well is full. All may quench the burning thirst and be saved. As Christ was on the cross amid thieves, so you will be on the cross among worldly people. He was crucified between two, not at the side. He is God’s great Middleman, for the saving of the lost. The motley crowd gambled for the seamless garment, while they rejected the Wearer. So we should remember that while people may sometimes criticize our habits of life, and reject the saving message we bring, yet if we do not descend from the cross, honest hearts will be won to the Master. Christianity is the only religion with a cross in it, and the only one with salvation. Be true to the cross! Nothing could hinder the work of Christ. He preached anywhere, everywhere, any time, all the time. Three were converted on the dark day of the crucifixion,—Simon, who bore the cross, a descendant of Ham; the thief, of the posterity of Shem; and the Roman centurion, of the tribe of Japheth. Thus the very last earthly work of the Saviour of men was to present to the Father a glorious wave sheaf of three, rescued amid the throes of Calvary, from among each of the tribes of men. To Jesus, Calvary became a church; the heavy cross a mountain pulpit, from which to preach His sacrifice; and the rabble a waiting congregation. Remember, “He was wounded for our iniquities.” Where was He wounded? Where was He bruised? In Palestine, you say. Yes; but let us come nearer. On Calvary? Yes; but let us come nearer still. On His head, on His back, in His side, in His feet and hands. The thorny crown pierced His brow, the cruel scourge lacerated His back, the spear found its way to His heart, and the spikes pierced His feet and hands,—the head for wisdom, the heart for love, the back for burdens, the feet for duty, and the hands for blessed service. As all of His person was wounded and bruised for us, let us consecrate all of self to Him.