And then he said to them, "My soul is exceedingly sorrowful, even to death." We don't want to pass over those words too lightly. This is Jesus Christ talking, and he's not talking about physical pain. He's talking about his soul, and his soul is now being gripped like a vice. With grief and sorrow, all things being equal, Jesus did not want to go to the cross. But all things were not equal.
That was his mission. That was his destiny. He wanted to do the will of his Father. As we talked about earlier in the week, the idea that Christ had to die on the cross can seem brutal. Or perhaps unnecessary, given that this world was made by a sovereign, Almighty God.
In fact, that's a common criticism unbelievers level against Christian doctrine. Why did God have to do it this way? Why the cross? Welcome back to Renewing Your Mind. Today we're continuing our study in Dr.
R.C. Sproul's series, "The Atonement of Jesus." When we look at Scripture at moments where our Lord Himself even pleads, "Let this cup pass from me," it can seem like even Jesus was questioning this path toward salvation. But when we look closer, as Dr. Sproul is about to show us, this is not the case. This was always the plan, and it was not a plan of brutality or torture, but a plan of joy.
I encourage you to share today's lecture with a friend to help them better understand the meaning of the cross. Let's hear from RC now. Thirty years ago, I can hardly believe it. It's been that long. I was ordained to the ministry of the gospel.
And one of the privileges that the ordnand enjoys in ordination is the right to select what is called the ordination hymn. And thirty years ago, my selection for that occasion was my favorite hymn, which is entitled "Tis Midnight," and on Olive's brow. It's a hymn often used during the celebration of communion, but I find that many Christians are completely unfamiliar with this particular hymn. And the text of the hymn follows the passion of Christ in the Garden of Gethsemane, and I just love the lyrics of this particular hymn, with one slight exception. My objection to this particular line in the hymn is this: at one point, the words of the hymn say this, that Christ was not forsaken by His God.
And that gives me pause because I can stretch my theology a little bit and say, "Well, that's true. Ultimately, ultimately, Jesus was not forsaken by His God in the final analysis. But there was a time in which Jesus indeed was forsaken, and that forsakenness occurred on the cross." Now, I. Know that when Christ cried out from the cross, "My God, My God, why hast Thou forsaken me?" There are those who have tried to twist the words of Jesus to say that Jesus wasn't really forsaken, though he felt forsaken in this dark moment. Indeed, the dark night of the soul that he experienced while making his atonement at Calvary.
But if Christ was not forsaken by His God in the atonement, then there would not have been an atonement, because the penalty for sin that had been established by God in the old covenant was forsakenness, and Christ had to receive the full measure of that penalty in the cross.
Now. When we studied the concept of covenant a little while ago on this program, I made mention of the dual sanctions of the Old Testament covenant that include, on the positive side, the promised blessing for those who keep the terms of the covenant, and on the negative side. The promise of the curses that would fall upon all who violate the law of God or the stipulations of the old covenant, and on that occasion, I called your attention to Paul's words in his letter to the Galatians in the third chapter. In chapter three of Galatians, beginning at verse ten, Paul gives this message. For as many as are of the works of the law are under the curse, for it is written, "Cursed is everyone who does not continue in all things which are written in the book of the law to do them." But that no one is justified by the law in the sight of God is evident, for the just shall live by faith.
Yet the law is not of faith, but the man who does them shall live by them. And then we find these pregnant words in verse thirteen of chapter three of Galatians: Christ has redeemed us from the curse of the law, having become a curse for us, for it is written. Cursed is every one who hangs on a tree. That the blessing of Abraham might come upon the Gentiles in Christ Jesus, that we might receive the promise of the Spirit through faith. If you will remember, I called our attention back to the standard Hebrew benediction of the Old Testament: "May the Lord bless you and keep you; may the Lord make his face to shine upon you and be gracious unto you; may the Lord lift up the light of his countenance upon you and give you peace." And I pointed out that in that famous benediction, the literary device of parallelism is being employed.
That is, you have three little stanzas, and all three of them are saying substantially the same thing, simply using different words.
So that for the Hebrew, when he hears the words, "May the Lord bless you," and then he next hears, "May the Lord make His face to shine upon you," and then he hears the concluding stanza, "May the Lord lift up the light of His countenance upon you," the Jew under. Understood the synonymous nature of those statements, and that helps us understand how the Jew, not in abstract terms, but in concrete terms, understood what it meant to be blessed by God. It meant to behold ultimately the unveiled face of God. The beatific vision, the direct vision of the countenance of God, to be able to look at the unveiled glory of God is the supreme blessing that any human being can hope for. But Paul is speaking here in Galatians not of the blessing of the covenant, but he's speaking of the curse.
And the curse is stated in the Old Testament not as some kind of superstitious voodoo or witchcraft idea of cursing, but rather the curse is understood in direct antithesis. To blessedness, so that if blessing is to enjoy the immediate presence of the unveiled glory of God, so conversely the curse was understood by the Jew to be sent into the outer darkness, totally removed from the blessed presence of God's glory, the place where the countenance of God is completely hidden. And obscured, and the light that shines from his face is eclipsed. To be cursed is to be removed from the blessed presence of God.
Now, what does Paul mean when he says in Galatians that Christ became a curse for us? It means that Christ, when he went to the cross, was sent, as it were, into the abject outer darkness, where God turned the lights out. Thomas Aquinas, for example, once argued. That Jesus, during his earthly ministry, though he suffered humiliation at the hands of men, and that human beings, his contemporaries, did not recognize him because his glory was enshrouded with his humanity, and it was hidden and obscure from those who looked at him. Nevertheless, Jesus always knew that the Father knew.
Who he was, and that the communion that Christ enjoyed with the Father throughout His earthly ministry was one that kept Christ in a constant state of complete felicity. That is to say, Aquinas speculated that the beatific vision. The vision of the unveiled glory of God, which is hidden from us now, but which we look forward to in eager anticipation in heaven, Aquinas argued that Jesus, in his earthly humanity, enjoyed every minute of his life. That is until the cross. Where there the lights are turned out, the world is plunged into darkness, and Christ is exposed to the curse of the wrath of God.
And to experience the curse, according to Jewish categories, is to experience what it means to be forsaken.
Now, beloved, I'm going to speculate a little bit here for a moment, and that is a very dangerous enterprise. But none of us can plunge the ultimate depths of what really took place on the cross. John tells us in his prologue to his gospel that in the beginning was the Word, and that the Word was with God, and that the Word became flesh. And that little statement that the Logos or the Word was with God from all eternity calls attention to the intimate relationship that the second person of the Trinity has had from all eternity with the Father.
Now, don't misunderstand me. I don't want to suggest for a moment that the intimacy of the communion within the Godhead that was established in eternity. I don't want to suggest for a moment that that unity was in any way disrupted, or broken, or destroyed on the cross. But in addition to the unity that exists within the Godhead among the members of the Father and the Son of the Holy Spirit, there is another unity, and that is the unity of the second person of the Godhead with the human nature of Christ, and the unity within Jesus' person between the divine and the human nature. Was also a perfect unity, and here's where my speculation comes in.
I'm not sure, but that that unity suffered some kind of intrusive fracture during Christ's hour on the cross, because the human nature from conception throughout his life always enjoyed the constant sense of presence and fellowship with the divine nature. But for Christ to be cursed means that, in a very real sense, He must be forsaken in His humanity. And I wonder—and it's just a guess—that if on the cross the divine nature said no to the human nature. And that the human nature, under the penalty of atonement, was utterly forsaken by the divine nature, and when that happened, Christ screamed—a primeval scream. He cried out, "My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?" He was under the curse.
Now, in the moments that we have left today. I want us to work backwards to the night before the cross, when Christ went to Gethsemane. Not with a complete, exhaustive understanding of what awaited him on the morrow, but obviously Jesus had forewarning. He had a weighty foreboding of what was coming. He knew long before he arrived in Jerusalem that there he would meet his death.
That there his destiny would take place. That there his hour would come. The moment when he would have to drink the cup, and face the mission of redemption. Let's look for a moment, if we may, to the gospel record of Jesus' agony at Gethsemane, in Matthew's gospel, in the twenty-sixth chapter. Beginning at verse thirty-six, we have this narrative.
This is Matthew chapter twenty-six, beginning at verse thirty-six. And then Jesus came with them to a place called Gethsemane, and said to his disciples, "Sit here while I go and pray over there." And he took with him Peter and the two sons of Zebedee. And he began to be sorrowful and deeply distressed. Here we have the record of what the scriptures mean when they say that Jesus entered into his sorrow.
Sometimes the work of the atonement is called in Latin the Pacio Magnum, the Great. Or the grand passion of Christ, and that passion—the word "passion" is a word that communicates the idea of intense, overwhelming feeling. Not the passion of eroticism or the passion of excited joy, but the passion of intense pain and grief and mourning and sorrow. And Matthew tells us that when Jesus left the upper room after having celebrated the Passover with his friends, he went to the garden to pray, and there. He began to feel the intensity of this sorrow and grief as he enters now into his passion.
And what does he say? In verse thirty-eight of Matthew twenty-six, we read these words. And then he said to them, "My soul is exceedingly sorrowful, even to death." We don't want to pass over those words too lightly. This is Jesus Christ talking, and He's not talking about physical pain. He's talking about His soul, and His soul is now being gripped like a vice with.
Grief and sorrow. My soul is exceedingly sorrowful, even to death. And then he says to his disciples, "Stay here, and watch with me." And then he went a little farther, and fell on his face and prayed, saying, "O my Father, if it is possible, let this cup pass from me." Nevertheless, not as I will, but as you will. I mean, his whole life had been a time of preparation for this moment, this hour, that is now come. And when it comes, and Jesus stares into the bottom of that cup and considers the dregs that are in that cup, he shrinks in horror, and he cries out to the Father.
It's a last-ditch effort. It's as if Jesus is saying, "Father, isn't there some other way that this work of redemption can be accomplished?" If there's any way in your will, O God, let this cup pass from me.
However, not my will, but yours be done. Here Jesus is saying, the prospect of atonement, the prospect of facing your unmitigated forsakenness, the prospect of my becoming a curse. In your sight, is unbearable. If you can please find another way, let it pass. But if that's what it takes, then I want to do it.
All things being equal, Jesus did not want to go to the cross, but all things were not equal. That was his mission. That was his destiny, and more than he wanted to escape the drinking of the cup, he wanted to do the will of his father, as that had defined his whole life. His meat and his drink, was to do the father's will. Then he came to his disciples, and found them sleeping, and he said to Peter, "What?" Could you not watch with me for one hour?
Watch and pray, lest you enter into temptation. The spirit indeed is willing, but the flesh is weak. And again, a second time, he went and prayed, saying, "O my Father, if this cup cannot pass away from me, unless I drink it, your will be done." And he came and found them asleep, for their eyes were heavy.
Now, if we turn to Luke's gospel, we get just a slightly different slant on this, with a little bit more information that we find in chapter twenty-two of Luke. In his version of Gethsemane, beginning at verse thirty-nine, we read these words: "Coming out, he went to the Mount of Olives as he was accustomed, and his disciples also followed him. And when he came to the place, he said to them, 'Pray that you may not enter into temptation.'" And as he was withdrawn from them about a stone's throw, he knelt down and prayed, saying, "Father, if it is your will, take this cup away from me. Nevertheless, not my will, but yours, be done." Now listen to what Luke says. Then an angel appeared to him from heaven, strengthening him.
And being in agony, he prayed more earnestly. You see, Luke adds a new dimension to it. That Christ first prays that this mission may be relieved, that the cup may be removed from him. But then God sends an angel from heaven to strengthen him, and obviously the angel, whose primary function is to be a messenger, communicates to Christ the answer of the Father. Then the Father's answer is, "No, son, you must drink the cup." And I've sent an angel to strengthen you in this task.
And now Jesus prays again, and this time even more earnestly, so earnestly that Luke tells us he begins to sweat drops of blood—not just sweat like blood, but actual blood. The word in the Greek there is the word from which we get the English word thrombosis. Where there is a kind of hemorrhage taking place out of an intensity of prayer, but this time the intensity of the prayer is not for the removal of the cup. That prayer has already been answered. You have to drink the cup.
Jonathan Edwards gives a remarkable survey of this passage, in which he says that now the intensity of the prayer that is accompanied by drops of blood from the brow of Christ is a prayer for courage and strength to fulfill the mission, not to escape the mission, but to conclude the mission. And to do what he had been sent to do—to make atonement for us—and through blood, through sweat, and through tears, the Son of Man is strengthened. He rises, and he allows himself to be arrested, that he may go to the cross for us. Have you ever been frightened by an impending task that you were required to perform? Are you afraid when you go to the doctor when you're ill and you're not sure what it is that's troubling you?
I get afraid. I have white coat syndrome. I always put it off and postpone it. There are tasks, adventures, and occasions that are set before us in our life. Appointments that we have that frighten us, but nothing like what stood on the appointment book of Christ.
God has never asked me, nor will He ever ask me, to become a curse for other people. God will never ask you to endure forsakenness from Him for other people's benefit. But that was the cup that was set before Christ, and beloved, He drank the cup to the last possible drop. That's the price that was paid. When you think of the atonement, forget about the thorns, forget about the nails, forget about the excruciating pain of crucifixion.
Thousands of other human beings have endured that, but only one went to the cross to be forsaken. Only one accepted. The judgment of the full curse of God in behalf of other people. Think about that as you contemplate the cross. When we think about the cross through this lens, as Dr.
Sprole encourages us to do, we can more deeply understand why our Lord said that greater love has no one than this. The sad reality is that so many people misunderstand the message of the cross. You've probably heard people ask questions like, "Why did Jesus have to die?" or "Why would a loving God put His own Son on the cross?" But when we truly grasp the depth of our sin in the light of God's absolute righteousness, then we see that the cross was the only way for sinful people to be reconciled to a holy God, and that's what RC helped us understand today. I hope you found this episode of Renewing Your Mind encouraging, and if you did, consider sharing today's message with a friend. Sharing this podcast with someone else can help them understand the true meaning of the cross.
So thank you in advance for doing that. Tomorrow we'll conclude our time in this series, but we'll be visiting a vital topic before we go. As Dr. Sproul asked the question, "For whom did Christ die?" That will be Friday here on Renewing Your Mind.
