flogged

John 19:1: “Then Pilate took Jesus and had him flogged.”

I read the story of Jesus’ torture and execution this morning with a chill. For whatever reason, this verse, which I’ve read often before, shocked me this morning.

Imagine the reckless, unknowing disregard of danger. There’s a phrase we use sometimes when people provoke someone they shouldn’t, or pick a fight they can’t win: poking the bear. But think of what it means to whip God. To beat the creator of the world. To flog the one who would rise to become Lord of the universe. With one little flare of his temper, Jesus could have flattened the whole building, or the whole city. Only his determined self-control save the men who tormented him.

Imagine the indignity. Imagine being God, existing outside of time but everywhere in the world, constrained by nothing or no one. Imagine voluntarily accepting the ball and chain of a human body and the limitations of a human existence. Imagine living the only perfect life ever lived by a man or woman. And then, imagine being bound and flogged. In addition to the physical pain, the emotional shock of the debasement and dehumanization must have been immense.

Imagine both of those things, and then feel guilt. The reason Jesus had to go through this is because we can’t get it together. Despite our love of God we continually serve our sins. Far from fleeing temptation, we stand rooted in place as it draws near, or even step closer out of curiosity. Our broken relationship with God breaks more every day, so that only the life and death of Jesus could have any positive effect on it.

Imagine flogging God. 

Imagine being the reason God was flogged.