The Tension of Calvary: Embracing the Horror and the Hope
The Tension of Calvary: Embracing the Horror and the Hope
Can we look at the cross without turning away and still find beauty in its brutality? This Lenten reflection invites us to wrestle with the tension of Calvary, where unimaginable suffering met unmatched love and where sorrow gave way to victory.
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The Crucifixion of Jesus
32 As they were going out, they met a man from Cyrene, named Simon, and they forced him to carry the cross. 33 They came to a place called Golgotha (which means “the place of the skull”). 34 There they offered Jesus wine to drink, mixed with gall; but after tasting it, he refused to drink it. 35 When they had crucified him, they divided up his clothes by casting lots. 36 And sitting down, they kept watch over him there. 37 Above his head they placed the written charge against him: this is jesus, the king of the jews.
38 Two rebels were crucified with him, one on his right and one on his left. 39 Those who passed by hurled insults at him, shaking their heads 40 and saying, “You who are going to destroy the temple and build it in three days, save yourself! Come down from the cross, if you are the Son of God!” 41 In the same way the chief priests, the teachers of the law and the elders mocked him. 42 “He saved others,” they said, “but he can’t save himself! He’s the king of Israel! Let him come down now from the cross, and we will believe in him. 43 He trusts in God. Let God rescue him now if he wants him, for he said, ‘I am the Son of God.’” 44 In the same way the rebels who were crucified with him also heaped insults on him.
The Tension of Calvary
Every Lenten season culminates at the victory of Easter morning. Retelling the story of Christ’s resurrection, believers celebrate and shout, “He is risen!” However, to reach that celebratory moment, the events that led to the Gospel’s most paramount moment require us to step back and acknowledge the sacrifice.
It’s nearly impossible to read the crucifixion story in Scripture and not have your heart ravaged by the brutality, gore, and cruelty. If Jesus claimed to be who He said He was, God incarnate, the terror should alarmingly grip us. Yet, even if we removed Jesus’ divinity, the story and act of crucifixion capture a grotesque look at inhumanity.
While re-reading the crucifixion story recently, I had a realization: Have I been missing the true invitation of the cross by fixating on the pain rather than embracing the promise? Was my worship directed at the violence suffered rather than the victory had?
There's an undeniable tension at the heart of the crucifixion story. On one hand, we're confronted with an act of unspeakable violence—an innocent man subjected to torture and a humiliating public execution. It's natural, even right, to feel horror at such cruelty. Yet, on the other hand, we're told this moment represents the pinnacle of divine love, the ultimate act of sacrifice that reconciles humanity with God.
How do we hold these two realities in tension? Is it possible to fully acknowledge the brutality while still marveling at the beauty of what was accomplished?
Reviewing Christ’s Sacrifice
To embrace the promise, we must review the what and how of Christ’s suffering. Here are a few Scripture excerpts that highlight the Romans’ cruelty. And as a reminder, as you read these, remember that they weren’t doing these acts to just anyone; this was done to Jesus, God in the flesh.
"Just as there were many who were appalled at Him—His appearance was so disfigured beyond that of any human being and His form marred beyond human likeness…” Isaiah 52:14
Even before the cross, Isaiah foresaw a suffering servant so battered that He was hardly recognizable.
"Then they spit in His face and struck Him with their fists. Others slapped Him and said, ‘Prophesy to us, Messiah. Who hit you?’” Matthew 26:67-68
The beginning of Jesus’ physical abuse starts here—with mocking and beatings from the religious leaders.
“[Pilate] had Jesus flogged, and handed Him over to be crucified.” Matthew 27:26
Flogging wasn’t just a whipping. Roman flogging involved a whip with sharp bones or metal, tearing into the skin, often down to the muscle and bone.
In his book, The Case for Christ, Lee Strobel thoroughly examines the physical and medical aspects of Jesus' crucifixion through interviews with medical experts. Regarding Roman floggings, he said, “[These] were known to be terribly brutal. They usually consisted of thirty-nine lashes but frequently were a lot more than that...The back would be so shredded that part of the spine was sometimes exposed by the deep, deep cuts.”
"They stripped Him and put a scarlet robe on Him, and then twisted together a crown of thorns and set it on His head...They spit on Him, and took the staff and struck Him on the head again and again.” Matthew 27:28–31
The mockery here is exceptional. Jesus is not only physically tortured but also deeply humiliated and ridiculed.
"When they came to the place called the Skull, they crucified Him there…" Luke 23:33
Crucifixion is mentioned simply, but it was the most torturous execution method known to the Romans—nails driven through wrists and feet, body weight causing suffocation, slow death.
In Case for Christ, Strobel indicates that “the Romans used spikes that were five to seven inches long and tapered to a sharp point. They were driven through the wrists...This was a solid position that would lock the hand; if the nails had been driven through the palms, His weight would have caused the skin to tear, and He would've fallen off the cross.”
Additionally, Strobel points out, "It's important to understand that the nail would go through the place where the median nerve runs...Do you know the kind of pain you feel when you bang your elbow and hit your funny bone...well, picture taking a pair of pliers and squeezing and crushing that nerve. The pain was absolutely unbearable.”
"And at three in the afternoon Jesus cried out in a loud voice...‘My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?’” Mark 15:34
Recall your darkest moments—when you felt the full weight of your life crumbling and you questioned where God was amidst it. Fortunately for you, while He seemed distant, God was very near your grief. However, for Christ, the full weight of divine separation was upon Him.
The Cost of Love
We often say, “Jesus died for us,” and while that’s true, it can become sanitized in our minds, sterile, almost distant. But the actual event? It was graphic. It was humiliating. It was torturous. So, why that way? Why didn't Jesus die in His sleep or by a quick execution? Why did it have to be public, prolonged, and painful?
Because love isn’t cheap, and our redemption wasn't either. The brutality of the cross wasn’t incidental or excessive—it was essential. Not because God delights in suffering, but because:
Sin is that serious.
Love is that deep.
Redemption is that costly.
The more we understand what Jesus endured, the more clearly we see what it took to reconcile us to God. The whipping, the mockery, the nails, the suffocation, the abandonment—it wasn’t just pain; it was payment. And not a cold transaction, but a passionate rescue.
To move past our initial shock, we must look deeper into the meaning behind the cross. Yes, the physical suffering was immense, but Jesus Himself spoke of the cross not primarily in terms of pain but purpose. In Luke 9:23, He challenged His followers: "Whoever wants to be my disciple must deny themselves and take up their cross daily and follow me.”
This isn't a call to seek out suffering but an invitation to embrace sacrifice for a greater good. The cross, in Jesus' teachings, becomes a symbol of surrendered love rather than just an instrument of torture.
When we fixate on the violence, we risk missing the profound demonstration of love taking place. The Apostle Paul, writing to the Philippians, frames it this way:
"[Christ Jesus], being in very nature God, did not consider equality with God something to be used to His own advantage; rather, He made Himself nothing by taking the very nature of a servant, being made in human likeness. And being found in appearance as a man, He humbled Himself by becoming obedient to death—even death on a cross!" Philippians 2:6-8
This passage invites us to see beyond the physical act to the heart behind it. The more we grasp the magnitude of what Christ gave up—His divine privileges, comfort, and very life—the more staggering the love becomes. The brutality doesn't diminish the beauty of the sacrifice; it amplifies it.
John 15:13 shares, “Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one’s life for one’s friends.” But Jesus didn’t just lay down His life—He laid it down in the most excruciating way possible. That’s not just death; that’s sacrificial love on full display.
God's justice demands that sin be dealt with, yet God’s love desires that we be saved. So, on the cross, Jesus absorbed justice so we could receive mercy. The violence wasn’t God being cruel—it was God being willing. Willing to go all the way, to the depths of human agony, so nothing would separate us from His love.
“But God demonstrates His own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us.” Romans 5:8
Our initial reaction of horror, or even pity, isn’t wrong, but it shouldn't be where we stay. The prophet Isaiah, centuries before Christ, spoke of the suffering servant in a way that acknowledges both the suffering and its redemptive purpose:
"Surely He took up our pain and bore our suffering, yet we considered Him punished by God, stricken by Him, and afflicted. But He was pierced for our transgressions, He was crushed for our iniquities; the punishment that brought us peace was on Him, and by His wounds we are healed." Isaiah 53:4-5
Rather than focusing solely on the wounds, Easter provides the opportunity to recognize the healing they bring. It's a perspective shift that transforms our pity into praise, our sorrow into gratitude.
Joining Christ in Victory
“How would your life be different if you weren’t able to live in the hope of Christ resurrected?”
That question is posed in John Stott’s Bible Studies: Jesus Christ: Teacher, Servant, and Savior. How would you answer?
In the first half of 1 Corinthians 15, the Apostle Paul outlines the story and purpose of Christ’s death and resurrection. But in the second half, he challenged the Corinthian Christians because while they didn’t deny Jesus’ resurrection, they denied our resurrection in Christ. In verses 12-19, the Apostle Paul goes so far as to say that everything is futile if Jesus wasn’t resurrected from the dead.
Enduring Word Bible commentary shares: When you know what rests on the resurrection, you know why if in this life only we have hope in Christ, we are of all men the most pitiable.
The divinity of Jesus rests on the resurrection of Jesus (Romans 1:4).
The sovereignty of Jesus rests on the resurrection of Jesus (Romans 14:9).
Our justification rests on the resurrection of Jesus (Romans 4:25).
Our regeneration rests on the resurrection of Jesus (1 Peter 1:3).
Our ultimate resurrection rests on the resurrection of Jesus (Romans 8:11).
As you think about the question mentioned above, your mind may go to personal failures. We’d be unmatched against temptations, and there would be little hope for justice. However, because of Christ’s resurrection, we are all offered the chance to celebrate as victors in Christ. As believers, those resurrected in Christ, we’re all called to celebrate in His victory. We are no longer bound by sin but Christ, our ultimate victor.
Perhaps one of the most profound reframings of the crucifixion comes from the Book of Hebrews. The author writes of Jesus, "For the joy set before Him, He endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God" (Hebrews 12:2).
This verse challenges us to see the cross through Jesus' eyes. Despite the immense suffering, He was motivated by joy—the joy of reconciling us to God, of defeating death, of opening the way to eternal life. When we view the cross in this light, our response can move beyond grief to a deep, awe-filled worship.
A New Response: Holding Both Realities
As we approach the cross, we're invited to hold two realities in tension. Like Mary at the foot of the cross and the Roman centurion who declared, "Surely this man was the Son of God!" (Mark 15:39), we can experience both profound sorrow and transformative awe.
We don't need to sanitize the crucifixion or downplay its horror. Instead, we allow that very brutality to deepen our appreciation for the extravagant love poured out for us. The more we understand the cost, the more precious the gift becomes.
The challenge now becomes to respond to the cross in a new way. Instead of stopping at sorrow, can we press into surrender? Rather than fixating on the pain, can we embrace the promise?
Here are some ways we might cultivate a fuller response to the cross:
Gratitude: Take time to express thankfulness for Christ's willingness to endure such suffering on our behalf.
Repentance: Allow the magnitude of the sacrifice to soften our hearts and turn us away from sin.
Worship: Let our awe at God's love move us to heartfelt praise and adoration.
Surrender: Consider what it means to "take up our cross" in our daily lives, following Christ's example of sacrificial love.
Mission: Let the transformative power of the cross compel us to share this good news with others.
The cross stands as both the darkest and the brightest moment in human history. It reveals the depths of our brokenness and the heights of God's love. This Easter, may we see it clearly – in all its horror and all its hope – and may our hearts be forever changed.
TL;DR
“The Tension of Calvary” explores the dual realities of Christ’s crucifixion: the horror of His suffering and the hope of His victory.
The blog traces the graphic details of Jesus’ death, not to sensationalize it, but to highlight the gravity of love and cost of redemption.
It challenges readers not to look away from the pain but to recognize its deeper purpose.