He Died For Me

“And Jesus cried with a loud voice, and gave up the ghost.” (Mr 15:37 AV)

 No explanation is needed here.  It is pretty straightforward.  When all the scripture was fulfilled concerning His death on the cross, He gave up the breath of life and died.  And He died for me!  Jesus said, “Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends.” (Joh 15:13 AV)  But the thing is, I wasn’t His friend.  I was His enemy.  Paul explains this further.  “For if, when we were enemies, we were reconciled to God by the death of his Son, much more, being reconciled, we shall be saved by his life.” (Ro 5:10 AV)  When Jesus died on that cross for me, He wasn’t dying for someone who called Him friend.  He was dying for someone who considered Him his enemy.  This is no small matter.  When He died for me, the grace shown was more than the human mind can comprehend.  The debt was insurmountable.  The debt was compiled against the one Who died.  He didn’t just die for sin that was committed against others.  He died for the sin I committed against Him.

As a hospital chaplain near the largest Naval Basic training base, I had the privilege to minister to all sorts of military.  Both active and retired.  They are a special group of people. I spent time with someone who served on an aircraft carrier.  I met another who served on a sub.  I met a sniper, many corpsmen, several fire controlmen, a commander or two, several generals, and on and on. I particularly enjoyed the visits I had with WWII veterans.  Several stick out in my mind for their bravery and their ability to adjust beyond their horrific experiences.  One that sticks in my mind was an Aircorps flyer.  He was one of the first African American pilots to captain a bomber.  He had captained his plane for several years and flew hundreds of missions.  What he could never come to terms with were the two missions he missed.  One for appendicitis, and another for yet again a health issue.   In both of these missions, he lost crew members under heavy fire.  He could not get past the feeling it was he who should have died and not them.  He could not understand why anyone would take his place and suffer and torturous death because he was unable to fly.

This is how we should feel.  We deserve to be on that cross.  We deserve a devil’s hell for all that we have done.  As an eight-year-old boy, I wept on Easter Sunday morning because I realized Jesus loved me so much that He gave His life for mine.  No one, not even my parents, could love me like that!  No one; not even my wife and children could love me so deeply.  Only Jesus can and did!  Praise be to God for the love of Christ that drove Him to the Cross; to give up the ghost; to suffer the wrath of Almighty God; and rise on the third day victorious over sin and the grave!  There is no more important message than this.  The world is oblivious to the love that awaits if they will only repent and trust the offering of Jesus on an old wooden cross.  What an expression of love!  He died for me!