"Palm Sunday Meditations"

Rev. Billy D. Strayhorn

I. "A World Class Wrestling Match"

(Mark 14:32-40)

I like Olympic wrestling but I'm not a big Professional Wrestling fan even though it's been around for a long time. My wife, Mary, calls it Bubba Ballet. I remember watching it as a kid. "Wrestling at the Chase" came on every Friday and Saturday night whether you wanted it to or not. They had such stars as Gorgeous George, Man Mountain Dean, Killer Killough and The Masked Avenger. Except for Hulk Hogan and Queen Kong, I don't know the names of any of the current wrestlers. But I watch enough TV to know that wrestling is still on and that there are now several shows. They even have women wrestlers, GLOW, the Gorgeous Ladies of Wrestling.

Every now and then one of these World Wrestling Federations or Associations or whatever they call themselves will have a world class wrestling match. But even if you put all of those wrestling matches together they wouldn't compare to the wrestling match that took place that night so long ago in the Garden of Gethsemane.

It was a world class wrestling match. But it wasn't life wrestling with death. It wasn't good fighting evil. It wasn't a match between God and the Devil or between grace and sin. There was no shouting; no gold belt and no ringside commentator. The only spectators were three disciples who couldn't even keep their eyes open.

Yet, under those olive trees there was a world class wrestling match going on. One that would decide the fate of the world. It was a match of wills as Jesus wrestled with his decision to face the cross and the humiliation that awaited him. He knew he would do it. He didn't want to say "No!" He couldn't say "No!", he loved the world, too much. But he had to convince himself and pin that part of him that cried out to turn away to the mat.

And so he wrestled with himself. There in the Olive Garden of Gethsemane, Jesus was pressed down, a squeezed dry. He wrestled with his fear and with his loneliness. He wrestled with God's will for himself and WE WON!

II. "It Wasn't The Nails"

(Mark 14:10-11; 41-50)

The pain of those nails being driven through His hands and feet must have been excruciating beyond compare. We can't even begin to imagine. But for Jesus it wasn't the nails that hurt the most or that cut the deepest. It was the kiss. The kiss of betrayal by Judas. The kiss that knowingly set into motion the events leading up to Jesus' crucifixion and death.

There have been times when we have all knowingly betrayed Jesus just as easily as Judas. There have been times when we've left the warmth of worship, feeling a sense of love and compassion for all of God's children. We've resolved to live like Christ only to have one of God's children cut us off in traffic or totally mess up our lunch order and we let loose with a string of invectives that would embarrass an old sailor. Maybe it's after our morning devotion where we asked for forgiveness. Then suddenly we catch ourselves fantasizing and secretly plotting against someone who has hurt us. It's then that we realize that we really aren't acting or living like Christ, that we, too, have kissed him on the cheek.

We hang our head a little in shame and say, "Sorry, Lord!"

Although Scripture doesn't record it, I'm sure that's what Judas said to Jesus just before he kissed him and they lead him away to be crucified. "Sorry, Lord!" It wasn't the nails that broke Jesus' heart, it was the kiss.

III. "Betrayed"

(Mark 14:53-54, 66-72)

Have you ever been betrayed? Have you ever been denied? When you're accused of something you didn't do and the people you counted on turn away or turn against you, it has a physical and psychological impact upon your life. You feel anger like you've never felt before. Anger like you're going to burst. You feel helpless. A sense of helplessness and abandonment takes over. Your arms and legs hang uselessly and leadenly. Your tongue won't work. Your mouth is dry. Your stomach feels tied in knots.

When I was in the sixth grade, we had Patrol Boys. There was a Captain, 2 Lieutenants, 4 Sergeants and about 20 Patrol boys. We helped kids across the streets at the crosswalks. And we got to escort the kids during certain special events. We wore a white belt that crossed in the front and a bright, shiny badge. I was a sergeant. They had the coolest badges of all. I loved being a patrol boy, until my step-father accused me of extortion.

You see, there was a little grocery store across the street from out school called, "The Little Store." They sold every kind of school supply you can think of. Plus they sold all kinds of penny candy. This was back when milk at school was 2 cents and a Snickers cost a nickel. You had to have note from your parents in order for the Patrol Boys to let you go across at recess or lunch. Some parents gave blanket notes and some wrote notes just for certain days.

My little brother didn't have a note but he did have a dime. So, I told him if he would bring me something back for 2 cents I'd let him go. It made him mad but he said "OK." When we got home he told my Dad. My Dad accused me of doing this to all the kids. I denied it because I hadn't. But he badgered me and accused me so long that I finally couldn't take it any more. And confessed to something I didn't do. To make matters worse, I had to make that confession to two teachers and to the other patrol boys. And then, of course, I was no longer in the Patrol Boys. I think I've forgiven my Dad but I know I haven't forgotten the pain.

The reason I tell you that story is because at some time, we've all experienced the pain of betrayal. But no matter how deep our hurt, no matter how humiliated and alone we felt, it can't compare to what Jesus felt when Peter denied Jesus three times, then turned and ran away. Or the pain he felt when all of his followers deserted him. Jesus, the perfect and sinless Son of God, was abandoned, beaten and crucified, not for anything he had done but for us.

His forgiveness allows us to forgive. He knows our humiliation. He knows our pain. He knows our grief and our sorrow. He knows when we are guilty and when we are innocent. Jesus knows all about us and loves and forgives us anyway. That's why he willingly went to the cross.

IV. "The Lasting Impression of the Crossbeam"

(Mark 15:33-39)

Throughout the past few weeks we've had this cross here as a symbol and reminder of what Christ did for us. It brings back the stark reality of Jesus death and the pain he must have felt for our sakes. When I built this cross I was sort of hoping that during the process there would be some kind of Epiphany. Some kind of sign from God about Easter and Good Friday that would help me tie it all together. I was hoping the cross would speak to me and say something deep and profound to my spirit. I was hoping it would stir my soul in some way so I could make that one unforgettable statement or preach that one all powerful sermon that brings it all together. But the cross has stayed strangely quiet.

Yet all through Lent I have felt the impression of the crossbeam. You see, when I finished the cross, I did something that might seem a little strange but something I've always thought about doing. I laid down on the cross. I held the nails in my hands and stretched out my arms and tried to imagine what it must have been like for Jesus. I laid there and meditated for about ten minutes.

I wish I could tell you that it was life changing. I wish I could tell you that I had that vision or that overwhelming sense of God's presence. But I didn't. It was an interesting and close moment but I didn't really feel anything except the impression of the crossbeam upon my back and shoulders.

I thought that would be the end of it but it wasn't. Because the one thing that I HAVE felt ever since building this cross is that lasting impression of the crossbeam. I can still feel it. And I realize that what I felt is only a small portion of what Jesus felt. He will forever feel the impression of the crossbeam.

But so will we. The whole world feels the lasting impression of the crossbeam. the world has been forever changed because of that crossbeam upon which Jesus hung. We may not all feel it upon our backs but we can feel it in our hearts. The crossbeam bore the weight of Jesus who bore the weight of our sin.

He took our sin upon Himself and willingly, knowingly, lovingly died upon the cross for you and for me.