13th century crucifix, Church of San Martín, Frómista, Castile y León, Spain

Psalm 88: 6-7a You have put me in the lowest pit, in the darkest depths. Your wrath lies heavily upon me….

The agony had started in the garden. Jesus knew what was ahead; he had been part of the eternal plan before the foundation of the world. The second person of the Trinity had taken on human flesh, true God becoming true man, to bear the punishment for the sins of his heedless and hostile creation. The climax of redemption was near. Jesus had been living thirty-three years on earth, a real man with a real body that would bleed and nerves that would transmit searing pain, and a mind that could contemplate rejection and the horror of the cross. What was ahead was the agreed-upon will of God; it was right and would lead to glory, but the suffering would be unimaginable. It wouldn’t just be the torture of crucifixion, excruciating though that would be, and the anguish of his loved ones watching; it wouldn’t just be the crushing weight of all the vile sin of all mankind; it would also be the utter aloneness of separation from the Father as Jesus bore the just wrath for sin. No wonder Jesus sweat blood and cried out to God, “Isn’t there some other way?” “Yet not my will,” Jesus finished his prayer. “Not my will but yours be done.” He gave himself over to the betrayal and the soldiers, the denial and desertion of his disciples, the mock trials under Annas, Caiaphas, Pilate and Herod, the beating and the crown of thorns, the cross on a hill.

It was November of 2015. I was visiting the church of Gallicantu, the Rooster-Crow, on the side of Mt. Zion where Caiaphas’ palace stood, where Peter denied Jesus three times. On a lower level under the sanctuary is a sort of dungeon carved out of the rock where prisoners were bound and whipped; hooks are still visible in the stone. The dungeon serves as a chapel now, and from its floor a round opening with rough crosses scratched into the stone leads to a pit below. It is believed that Jesus, after a first beating in the dungeon, was kept in this pit for the rest of the night between his trial and crucifixion. Fifth-century monks and hermits believed this to be true; they used to keep vigil during the night overlooking the pit. Stairs have been installed so visitors can descend to the pit and we did so, our group circling inside the uneven cavern, silent for once, pondering. There was a small light attached to the stone wall, but two thousand years ago the darkness in this space was total. Jesus, in the midst of his suffering, had been there completely alone.

“Do you know Psalm 88?” asked our guide George. “It’s a prophetic description of Jesus’ night in this pit.” Jesus was approaching the end of his earthly mission and he knew his “life [was drawing] near the grave” (v. 3). The first of the scourgings had begun to sap his strength (v. 4), and he had been thrown “in the lowest pit, in the darkest depths” (v. 6). Increasingly the weight of the world’s sin and the lowering wrath of God pressed upon him (v. 7). His friends had deserted him and even bold Peter denied his Lord (v. 8). Jesus was “confined and unable to escape” (v. 8) from a solid prison dug by sinful men. Did Jesus’ human nature have any hesitation about how this would all turn out? Was it a sleepless night in the black dankness, when seconds passed like hours? O, my Father, “do the dead rise up and praise you?” (v.10).

George suggested we read Psalm 88 and there in the pit, walled in by damp stone, Pastor Ray read the ancient words: “For my soul is full of trouble and my life draws near the grave. I am counted among those who go down to the pit; I am like a man without strength…. Your wrath lies heavily on me…. You have taken from me my closest friends…. I cannot escape; my eyes are dim with grief…. Why, O Lord, do you reject me and hide your face from me?”

Sometimes our life is in that pit too, fearing, sorrowing, groaning, waiting for the dawn in despair that it will never come. In obedience Jesus completed the agony of his Passion and paid the price to deliver us from sin, death and hell forever. He still comes to desolate places to walk us through our darkness. “Come unto me, all you who are weary and burdened,” says Jesus, “and I will give you rest.” Will you turn to him in repentance and faith, step into the light and greet the resurrection with great joy on Easter morning?

Jesus says, “I am the resurrection and the life. He who believes in me, thought he may die, yet shall he live, and whoever lives and believes in me will never die. Do you believe this?” (John 11:25-26).

With love in our suffering and risen Savior,   Jan

(Luke 22:41-23:12, Mark 14:50, 29-31 & 66-72, John 18:12-32, Mark 15:15-20, Psalm 88, Matthew 11:28, John 11:25-26)