As I was in prayer last week it seemed as if I was carried back to Calvary. Having just recently read C.M. Ward's paper entitled "Though He was Crucified" the scenes were so etched in my mind I felt as if I was actually there witnessing those horrifying moments. In that prayer meeting I was made to realize, as never before, the awful price Jesus paid for our redemption. After His resurrection His last words to us, His Church, were; "Go ye into all the world and preach the gospel to every creature." Literally He commanded the Church, His own people, to Go and secure that which he had purchased with His own blood.

THOUGH HE WAS CRUCIFIED

BY C.M. WARD

CRUCIFIED! No death was so thorough, no shame so complete. First, there was the scourging. The scourging post was two feet high. An iron ring, placed close to the top, projected from the two sides. Clothing was ripped away from the prisoner so that he stood naked. Roman lectors were professionals. They confined their labors to the fine, brutal art of scouring and they could beat a victim until only the barest spark of life remained.

Wrists were firmly shackled to the iron rings. Then, the victim was stretched, face down with his feet pointing away from the post. The Roman scourge was a flagra, a short handled whip consisting of several thin iron chains which ended in small weights. Scourging was called the little death. It preceded the big death-crucifixion. "Then Pilate took Jesus, and scourged him." John 19:1.

Even the tension of awaiting the first blow was cruel. The body became rigid, the muscles knotting in tormenting cramps. Color drained from the cheeks. Lips were drawn tight against the teeth. As the whip descended the chains fanned out across the back and each link cut through the skin and deep into the flesh. The weights crashed with bruising force into the ribs and curled bitingly around the chest.

When a man was scourged there was pain beyond the memory of pain. Sweat burst from the brow and stung the eyes. At each stroke of the flagra, the victims' body twitched like a beheaded chicken. The second stroke patterned the back and half the chest with a V-shaped network of small cuts. Only the Son of God could hold back the high-pitched wail of unbearable agony. The very juice of life was torn away with every lash. There was only the blinding, burning pain as the cruel whips whistled again and again through the air and across the shoulders. The flagra could flay a man alive. Under the Hebrew law the strokes were limited to thirty- nine. Roman punishment was not so limited. There was only one rule for the lictor who scourged a man about to be crucified: he must not die. A spark of life must be sustained for the agony on the cross. Men have bitten their tongue into under such beatings.

The next step was the parade to the execution ground. "And they led Him away to crucify Him. Matt. 27:31. A centurion usually would serve as the executioner. While four soldiers held the prisoner, the centurion placed the sharp iron spike in the dead center of the palm of the hand. Four or five strokes hammered the spike deep into the plank, another stroke turned the spike up so that the hand could not slip free. A small projection known as the sedile, fitted solidly through the crotch to take most of the weight off the condemned man's hands. Then a nail was driven through each foot. The wounds in His hands sent fire down His arms. Fainting only relieved temporarily. The pain in the back, feet and crotch was a dull throbbing, endless pain. The pain built up. It multiplied. There was not a moment of respite. "When He suffered, He threatened not; but committed Himself to Him that judgeth righteously." I Peter 2:23.

"I am poured out like water, and all my bones are out of joint; my heart is like wax; it is melted in the midst of my bowels. My strength is dried like a potsherd; and my tongue cleaveth to my jaws; and thou hast brought me unto the dust of death. For dogs have compassed me; they pierced my hands and my feet; I may tell all my bones; they look and stare upon me. They part my garments among them and cast down my vesture." "Ps. 22:140-18. Then the thirst began. The lips were dry, the mouth parched, the blood hot, the skin fevered. The greatest of all need at the moment was one drop of cool water, but water was denied. "After this Jesus saith, I thirst." John 19:28.

The Sun shone directly into the eyes, even when the eyes were closed, a red glare penetrated. The tongue thickened, what was once saliva was now like unloomed wool. Swelling began in the hands and feet, the sedile dug deeply into the genitals. It was impossible to change position. The real horror was only beginning. One by one the muscles of the back gathered into knotty cramps. After two hours on the cross every muscle in the body was locked in solid knots. The agony was beyond endurance. Men shrieked themselves into insanity. Death by crucifixion made the agony last as long as possible. Every hour was an eternity. Prayer seemed to mock a man, but he either prayed or cursed, "My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?" Matt. 27:46. Could there ever be more intense suffering this side of Hell?

If Christ was willing to go through such awful suffering that man might be saved, surely, surely, you and I should be willing to make the sacrifice necessary that they might hear. We are, this very moment, on the threshold of making disciples in all nations, the doors are open, your generous gift is all that is needed to make it a reality.

God bless you greatly for standing with us in this great work.

 

His bondservant,

 

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