Last Easter, I came across this deeply poignant article online at Charisma Magazine entitled, "What We Can Learn from God's Silence." It was an excerpt from The Silence of the Lamb written by Scott Hagan. I'd never read anything quite like it. So beautiful. So piercing. So true. It touched my heart in a unique way. I wanted to share it with you on this Good Friday. Love and Blessings. ~ Michelle
uncovered the amazing mysteries of tranquility while excavating a lost sermon
of Jesus. I’d been overlooking it in my gospel quarry for years. Once I knew
where to dig, it became a simple discovery—one I invite you to make for
Take a few
moments with your New Testament and look up every passage detailing the
crucifixion. Once you’ve found them all, write out the statements recorded as
coming from the lips of Jesus while He hung on the cross. Now, slowly repeat
those statements aloud, one after the other. You’ll find they barely fill one
minute of spoken conversation when strung together. Seven one-liners!
Jesus saying during the rest of His six hours on the cross?
much He could have said. He could have ended the opening
argument of His extradition with an ear-splitting sermon or offered up a
plateful of prophetic thunder as a parting shot for Pilate. He could have
unloaded an earful at the elders. He could have undressed with righteous
rhetoric the Roman cohorts who stripped His clothes, and then showered
condemnation on those who spat upon Him. He could have bellowed out a few shots
from Jeremiah’s prophecies to wayward Israel or ordered up a few hungry bears
as Elijah did.
Bible says, “when He was reviled, [He] did not revile in return; when
He suffered, He did not threaten”(1 Peter 2:23). In the natural, Jesus’
actions made no sense. When taunted, He remained tight-lipped. When abused and
pierced, His words of forgiveness flowed as quickly as His blood.
require His wounds to dry, scab and scar before He forgave. There is no record
that Jesus calculated His personal pain before discharging his pardon. Each
bruise and blow was met with silent mercy.
silence, Jesus was doing more than dying. He was communicating in red ink the
timeless secrets of the kingdom. He was openly showing His bride how to embrace
the cross that awaited her—and no true disciple can escape the cross.
We all know
that it is tough at times to maintain a pure perspective through strenuous
seasons of cross shaping. My only hope of success comes when my eyes remain
fixed on the body language of Calvary’s quiet Lamb, when I carefully listen to
the words He didn't say. For when my eyes and ears tune
out the cross, I fast become exasperated with people and plummet into spiritual
always be people who make big things out of small things in my life. But then,
I remember the cross—and how Jesus went through it first.
I can always
count on uninvited guests who enjoy watching my heavenly Father discipline
me—and that can be terribly embarrassing. But again, I remember: Jesus went
through that, too.
Even if God
sends spiritually immature Christians into my life as part of His mysterious
blueprint to grow me—to school me in silence—I must not forget that Jesus felt
that too. All of this was the cross! At least it’s the one Jesus knew.
But for all
the strains you and I face as followers, no one will ever pay a toll like
Jesus. His death is filled with endless grace and boundless perplexity.
For it was
I, not Jesus, who should have died for violating my Creator’s commands. And it
was I who deserved the burden of transporting heavy timbers barefoot over
jagged hillsides for my iniquity. It was I who merited loud public laughter and
the agony of pointy thorns stabbing through my forehead.
And it was I
who should have felt my ribs being pierced as pagan spittle dripped from my
face. Yes, it was I who should have hung incapacitated for six millennia, not
Yet it was
Jesus, not I, who violently died in silent payment.
Easter, I encourage you to rise early, don the bonnets and polish the shoes.
It’s the day when God’s people around the world colorfully rejoice in His
you’re celebrating, pause to remember the greatest silent sermon ever preached.
The one that lasted for six hours. The one that’s easy to memorize but
difficult to emulate. The one that was lived, not spoken, by a silent Lamb.
- Scott Hagan
from “The Silence of the Lamb” by Scott Hagan (published in Charisma magazine).