I Love Jesus Because He’s Badass (among other things)

whip

This past week is Holy Week, an important week for Christians around the world. Throughout the Lenten season, I’ve really felt the suckiness of my sin. (BTW, did they plan Lent at the crapiest time of year on purpose? Dreadful storms, endless winters -for my northern friends- and tax season. I mean come on. As if this is an ideal time to fast from coffee.) So I’ve carried in me the grief of my own sin as well as the world’s. Yes, Jesus died and rose again so we could be free from sin forever. But until He comes back again, we are on this broken planet, learning to be free, waiting together for complete restoration.

So it’s been good for me to consider how absolutely devastating it would be to suffer in our jacked-up-ness if there was no way out. What if Jesus had just decided, “You know, people…you’re just too far gone. I mean, even my closest friends and family, they don’t get it. It’s not worth it. You religious are ridiculous and you heathens are despicable. I have it pretty good without going through all this pain. I’m outta here.”

Take a second and think about that.

He could have said no. And we would have no hope. Because the thing I most realized about me and my junk: I cannot deal with it all alone. I can’t. I’ve tried, I’ve cried, I’ve confessed, tried again, and I get no where without Jesus.

This week as we’ve read through and revisited the courageous journey our Savior Jesus surrendered to, a couple thousand years ago, something new struck me:

Jesus is badass.

Most of you probably remember the details of the torture he suffered even before He was nailed to a cross. The physical, mental, emotional, spiritual abuse. He was sentenced to a criminal’s execution, and His accusers and abusers made sure He was put in His place…”King of the Jews? Yeah right.” And they made every effort to strip Him of dignity in practically every way.

He died. A sign hung over him, an accusation filled with contempt, etched out in three languages:

Jesus, King of the Jews.

But then, at the very moment, when all seemed lost, the world quaked with the groans of birthing triumph. Those at the foot of the cross, the very ones that scorned him, their breath caught in their throats, all mocking ceased, and they exclaimed, “This man was the Son of God!” (I would have cussed here, too.)

The next three days were filled with the eeriness of the unknown. Heartbreak. Confusion. Unrest. Anxiety.

Then He got up.

Life would never, ever be the same.

The story that God’s writing–of paradise lost, to the upside down redemption of the whole world by a servant king in disguise–it just gets me. And we don’t know the rest of the story yet. But we get a glimpse in that mind-blowing book Revelation. And what does it say Jesus does? He will return for us on this freaking awesome horse, all tatted up, the coolest, most permanent tattoo ever. You know what it says?

KING OF KINGS.

The more I get to know Him, the more I see Him as a man with the biggest, most compassionate heart to ever beat on this earth. He couldn’t leave us. He would never do that. He knew loving us would cost Him, but He said yes. And throughout His story of walking around with humans, you catch these glimpses… you know, the way He fashioned a whip to make a point and drove cattle with His mad whipping skillz. The way He addressed those pompous Pharisees. The way hundreds of Roman soldiers fell to the ground when He said, “I AM He.” And when I considered that sign at the crucifixion intended to mock, being essentially struck through and upgraded –for the entire world to see –forever on the living flesh of King Jesus –I just have to give Him a nod.

Jesus, you’re badass.

Sunday’s comin’ y’all.