It Was My Sin That Held Him There
How deep the Father's love for us
How vast beyond all measure
That He should give His only Son
To make a wretch His treasure
Four-hundred years of silence.
The Jewish people went through wars and conquests and bondage. They struggled to understand the purpose of the Law. They struggled to see God in the waiting.
And here, there’s you. You see hard years and strife-filled families. You live wondering when things are going to get better. You fight the same battles, the same shame, sin, and scars. You struggle to see God in the waiting.
They held to a promise. Pages of prophecy paving the path of the Messiah, the Anointed One, the Savior. And with angel’s word and sheep’s bleating, He came. The fullest expression of God, born under a tyrant king and legalistic religious rule.
How great the pain of searing loss
The Father turns His face away
As wounds which mar the Chosen One
Bring many sons to glory
Thirty years of life, three years of ministry.
Jesus walked the regions of Judea and Galilee. He broke bread and expectations. When they tried to make Him king, He knew what they truly needed. He spoke to the outcasts and sinners. He argued with the pious religious leaders. He healed, He cast out, He spoke in a way that held the people’s attention and held mystery. Even the disciples failed to understand much of what He said.
And then, in a night rife with illegal proceedings, brutal beatings, and outraged people, Jesus—the Messiah, the Anointed One, the Savior—was taken to die the most excruciating death imaginable. Though He could have spoken His way out, called down the army of Heaven, He accepted it. He stayed silent while they mocked and whipped Him, while they twisted together a crown of piercing thorns.
And God the Father watched His Son. As the nails drove through the wrists and heels of Christ, the Father ached the same. As the nails drove into the wood, they drove through the heart of God.
Behold the man upon a cross
My sin upon His shoulders
Ashamed, I hear my mocking voice
Call out among the scoffers
For hours on a hill named Skull, Jesus stayed on that cross. He could have come down. He could have humiliated the soldiers who raised the beams. He stayed.
And there’s the weight on His shoulders. As He pushes up on the nails to get a single breath, He pushes against the shame of our sin on His shoulders.
And there’s me. There’s us. Mocking the King of the Jews. This man who equated Himself with God, who declared a coming kingdom, who argued against the religious leaders, He was weak. He let Himself get dragged through five abusive trials. He didn’t help anyone. He didn’t fix anything.
It was my sin that held Him there
Until it was accomplished
His dying breath has brought me life
I know that it is finished
Though the nails pierced flesh and bone and wood, it was my sin that drove them through. It was my sin lifted for a drink, sour and worthless on His tongue. It was my sin that humiliated the One who loved me most.
And as He breathed His last agonizing breaths, He spoke three words: It is finished. And He died. And my sin broke. The blood and water poured on the hill, my guilt washed away.
I will not boast in anything
No gifts, no power, no wisdom
But I will boast in Jesus Christ
His death and resurrection
Confused, disoriented disciples wondered what this meant. They had come to know Him as the Messiah. If He was dead, what could they do? What had been the meaning in the last three years?
When they heard from the women that the tomb was empty, that Jesus had been seen again, they were confused. As desperately as they wanted to believe it, doubt seared their minds. And then He was there, real and Him and different.
And Thomas, the man renowned for his doubt, was scared. Scared to be disappointed again. Scared to be deceived. But when Jesus appeared before Him, pierced and alive, Thomas had no choice but to believe. My Lord, he said, And my God.
Why should I gain from His reward?
I cannot give an answer
But this I know with all my heart
His wounds have paid my ransom
And here, there’s you. And there’s me. And there’s Him.
Our dead life is gone. The only thing still in that tomb is death. Because He rose, we rise with Him. And it is no longer our own life. Rather, we have laid down the things of old to become new. We have been crucified with Christ, that we no longer live ourselves, but Christ lives in us.
This is the Gospel.
With Christ, crucified. With Christ, buried. With Christ, raised to new life.
He laid down His life for you. That kind of love doesn’t exist anywhere else. That kind of love will heal and restore and free.
He loves you.
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