When someone sins against me I have the right to accuse them. To exact justice. I can hold on to the offense–great or small–demanding justice. That feels right to my flesh. They did me wrong. Hurt me. Broke me. Changed the way I see life. They owe me! They need to pay for what they did to me. My flesh cries out to be repaid.
He died for my sin. He died for everybody’s sin. God shows His love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us. That sin done to me by those people…he died for THAT sin. He brought justice to the cross. Put His own flesh on that rough wood with strong spikes. Separated from His Father, He became that sin.
So, I stand before the cross. Before His broken body with a hammer in my upraised hand, ready to inflict justice. Do I punish that sin that has been taken upon Him? Do I hit the Son of God?
I look into His face. I see the pain and agony. I see my own sin reflected in His eyes. I hear His voice, “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.” I fall to my knees and the heavy hammer of justice rolls from my outstretched hands.
It is enough. Oh, Jesus, it is enough. My heart knows. My flesh surrenders. Jesus has finished it all. Jesus has satisfied the wrath of God. My wrath has no place here.
It is finished. Completed. Satisfied. I choose Jesus and join Him in his prayer. Father, forgive them…