One of the most beautiful and encouraging epitaphs in Scripture is found in Genesis 25 where the death of Abraham is described. All believers who understand something of the Covenant have a desire to be patriarchs and matriarchs. We long to found a spiritual dynasty—a thousand generations of children, flowing forth from us, that will love the Lord, and will bring glory to Him in the church, in their allotted days upon the earth—even as the Lord has promised us.
Abraham, our father in the faith, is archetypical in this regard. He is the great patriarch. We read, “And these are all the years of Abraham’s life that he lived, one hundred and seventy-five years. And Abraham breathed his last and died in a ripe old age, an old man and satisfied with life; and he was gathered to his people.” (Genesis 25:7, 8)
It is a wonderful picture of the man called the “Friend of God”. It is a portrait of a man blessed by the Lord:—heir of the promises of God; with innumerable descendants to come bound to God by His holy promise; seeing the fulfilment of God’s promise in his son, Isaac; favoured with long days upon the earth; dying in ripe old age; satisfied with life, and being gathered to forbears who had gone into God’s presence already and await his coming. In a fallen world, under the curse of sin, what height of blessedness could one hope to achieve greater than our father, Abraham?
In comparison, our Saviour’s life stands in rude and bitter contrast:--short days upon earth that were filled with suffering and anguish; a life where even the wild animals were better tended and cared for than He; mocked, despised, and rejected; suffering the cursed death of the cross; without heirs or inheritance amongst the covenant people; completely deserted; cursed by God and man; torn apart; utterly broken —a stronger contrast with Abraham’s course could not be imagined.
Yet the two life histories, that of Abraham and the Messiah, are inextricably linked. Indeed we know that Abraham’s blessedness would not have ever transpired, were it not for the later life course of the Messiah. Abraham’s blessedness was brought about by our glorious Saviour’s cursedness. That is why Abraham looked forward, saw the day of the Christ and rejoiced.
Our Lord did not die in ripe old age. He did not die satisfied with life. But He did die. He died with a loud cry—His last word from the Cross. It was not a cry of anguish, but of faith, of hope, of love for His Father. It was also a cry of progress, of moving on—but more of that later.
“Father, into Thy hands I commit my Spirit.” This word, like all the other utterances of our Lord from the Cross, is an official word, full of significance and meaning. There is much more here than meets the eye. In the first place, this word comes as the last of the seven words. It immediately follows His loud, triumphant declaration, “It is finished”. It is over. All things, we are told, had been fulfilled. The Gospel accounts indicate that the seventh word came immediately after the sixth. The two are closely related. The seventh word can be uttered because all had finished. Therefore, this seventh word reflects not just an end of physical life, which is almost incidental, but a beginning.
As we have said before, the Father gave clear confirmation that it was both an end and a beginning by rending the curtain in the temple that barred the way to the Holy of Holies as Jesus uttered these words.
Moreover, this word is yet another quotation from the Psalter. As such it is not random. It evokes something particular and significant. It comes from Psalm 31, written by David; the fifth verse of which says, “Into Thy hands I commit my spirit”.
Our Lord would probably have uttered these words many times as a prayer in the course of His life. They were prescribed by the Rabbis as a short evening prayer, just before sleep. Pupils in synagogue schools, such as Jesus would have attended at Nazareth, were instructed to pray this prayer every evening. Every Israelite was encouraged to pray these words before lying down to sleep. The holy and faithful of Israel, Jesus included, would utter these words every evening as they retired for the night: “Into Thy hands I commit my spirit.”
In the Scriptural repertoire of Israel, then, these words were uttered as people lay down to take evening rest, before arising the next day to serve the Lord. They were not words of capitulation or departure; they were simply not used in that fashion. They were used as an expression of faith that the Lord would keep them while they slept—so that they might arise the next day, greet the Lord in the morning, and re-commence their service of Him.
This suggests that we err if we interpret the final word from our Lord while on the Cross as a capitulation to death, as a final utterance—a kind of death bed speech. We know that this is how the seventh word is most commonly understood. “Father, I die” is how we generally understand the seventh word, or “Father, I surrender to death” is how these words are most often interpreted. Yet, as we have said, that is not how these words were used both providentially and liturgically in Israel—and that would not have been how the Jewish hearers, including the watching disciples, would have understood this final utterance.
Moreover, the fact that these words amounted to a loud cry indicate that it was not a statement of capitulation, of giving in and giving up, but of the power and triumph of faith.
We also need to review the content of Psalm 31 itself. As we said earlier with respect to that terrible Cry of Dereliction, the quote from Psalm 22 evoked all the content of that Psalm. So, we should see that when Jesus quotes Psalm 31:5 as His final word upon earth before giving up His Spirit and dying, He is not using this quotation out of context. Rather His intent is to evoke the meaning of the Psalm itself and call up its true and highest application unto Himself.
Psalm 31 is a song of triumph, of faith, and of redemption, amidst suffering and oppression. It is a cry of praise to God Who has saved the human author, David and has brought him to a place of safety and deliverance.
Now, then, consider the opening stanzas of the Psalm, and think of Golgotha and how these word find their greatest fulfilment in the Messiah:
“In Thee, O Lord, I have taken refuge;
Let me never be ashamed;
In thy righteousness deliver me.
Incline Thine ear to me, rescue me quickly;
Be Thou to me a rock of strength,
A stronghold to save me.
For Thou art my rock and my fortress;
For Thy name’s sake Thou wilt lead me and guide me.
Thou wilt pull me out of the net which they have secretly laid for me;
For Thou art my strength.
Into Thy hands I commit my spirit;
Thou hast ransomed me, O Lord, God of truth.”
Consider carefully these words. In the context of Psalm 31 we are directed to see in Jesus final word from the Cross, an act of confession of faith in His Father as He passes through the first death. He is declaring that God is His strength, His stronghold, His rock, His fortress. He is proclaiming His belief that as He dies, His Father will lead Him and guide Him, will pull Him out of the net; and that God has ransomed Him. It is in this context that He says in a loud, confident voice, “Father, into Thy hands I commit my Spirit.”
It is clear that the heart and mind of Jesus has already moved on from Golgotha. He is anticipating the resurrection and all that follows. He believes that the love, power, and faithfulness of His Father will raise Him from the dead. It is a given, as we say.
Some time later, on Easter morning, when the women came to the tomb, two angels appeared to them. The women had come with the affairs of death in their hearts and pharmaceutics of death in their hands. (Incidentally, this is one of the most beautiful pictures of faithful service in all the Scripture.) The angels gently rebuked them—almost, one is tempted to think, with wry humour: “Why”, they wanted to know, “are you seeking the Living One amongst the dead?” It was a rhetorical question—almost, as we would say, in the vernacular: “Look, will you please get with the programme.”
They went on, “He is not here, [of course]! He is risen. Remember how He spoke to you while He was still in Galilee, saying that the Son of Man must be delivered into the hands of sinful men, and be crucified, and the third day rise again.” (Luke 23:5—7) They could also have added, “Remember His last word on the Cross. Did you not utter that same prayer when you lay down to sleep last night? And have you not risen with the dawn, to be busy about your Father’s work? So, of course, He too has risen to be about His Father’s business. Of course He is not here.”
So we come to the end of days upon earth of the Messiah. All the while we have been on holy ground while we have stood as spectators at Golgotha. Figuratively and spiritually we have had to remove our shoes, as our father, Moses was instructed to do on the mountain of the Lord. In a way, we have been interlopers. We have had no right to be here. Terrible and holy things have been transpiring between the Father and the Son that have kept us transfixed—indeed, they will do so for the rest of our days, upon the earth, and stretching on through eternity.
We have watched through the hours of daylight as the crucifixion began and we have heard His prayer to the Father that the crucifiers be not held immediately to account, for they have acted in ignorance. The time will come when they will know what they have done as His apostles proclaim the Gospel of the Cross throughout Jerusalem. A day of salvation will be offered to the murderers. But the day will turn to night if they do not repent and judgment will fall—as indeed it when the Roman legions fell upon Jerusalem in AD68-70. In this first word from the Cross, we see our Saviour amidst His sufferings still accepting the responsibility of Kingship and directing the affairs of His Kingdom. The faithfulness of our Saviour to His duties is both breathtaking and utterly convicting. Would that may even remotely approximate His nobility and glory!
As we have watched, we have witnessed one of the murderous thieves become converted. With our Saviour we have heard the mockeries and jeering. Our heart has shrivelled. But then we have seen one-who-mocked transformed. He moves from darkness to light. He professes faith in the Saviour. Our dear Lord, from amidst the most unimaginable extremity as He draws nearer to Hell, is comforted and encouraged with a new son of God being added to His Kingdom.
Then, we have heard Him dismiss His mother. It is His last act before He descends completely into Hell. Yes, it was gently and lovingly done. But within there is a steely determination because He is fixed upon His duty to be the brother of all His people, and to regard them as His mother, His brothers and His sisters. His dismissal of His mother is an act of love toward us. For you and for me, He does this. He makes Himself public property, as it were. Thank God that He is willing to be so.
Then the darkness has fallen. For three hours we have watched and waited. The dread and the horror are indescribable. None of us can understand or comprehend. Then we have heard His terrible cry. Never before, or since, was such a cry uttered in the hearing of a living creature. We understand that He has been forsaken for our sakes, that we might never, ever, ever be forsaken of God.
We sense that this terrible Cry of Dereliction is also a Cry of Grandeur, for although He has been utterly hated by the Father for our sakes He does not, will not let His Father go. He loves Him and will think nothing bad of Him. He will trust Him utterly.
Finally, it is over. Our Lord knows that now all things have been accomplished. He asks His Father for help, in that He is thirsty. He needs a drink that He can utter two final words. He gathers His strength, and cries out with a loud voice, “It is finished.” It is over. The darkness lifts.
Then, this final word, “Father, into Thy hands I commit my Spirit.” He dies. But this great word tells us how He dies. He dies in faith. He dies entrusting Himself to His heavenly Father. His times are now in the hands of His Father (Psalm 31:15). He looks to His Father for deliverance and vindication:
“Make They face to shine upon Thy servant;
Save me in Thy lovingkindness.
Let me not be put to shame, O Lord, for I call upon Thee;
Let the wicked be put to shame, let them be silent in Sheol.” (Psalm 31:16,17)
So we understand that the Saviour gave up the ghost at His own will and command, completely entrusting Himself to His Father. He died, therefore, as He had lived. He arose from the manger. He departed from being the homeless refugee in Galilee. He was striding past the Cross to the house of the Resurrection, to the hill of the Ascension, to the Enthronement and Session upon high, to the pouring forth of His Spirit at Pentecost, to the proclamation of the Gospel to all peoples, to the gathering of the nations, to the discipling of the world, to the subjugation of all His enemies, and to the Last Judgement. It is for these things that departs Golgotha; it is to these things that He entrusts His Spirit to His Father.
“Were you there when they crucified my Lord?”
Yes, we were there. As the years pass, we find that we were there, more than we ever thought or imagined. But because we were there, we have, like our Lord, been able to move on, to follow Him, and leave Golgotha. We have died with Him. We been buried with Him. We have also risen with Him. We have ascended with Him. We have received His Spirit. We reign with Him.
And, like our father, Abraham, we are privileged to work for Him and with Him all our days. And by His grace, we too like Abraham will end our years filled with days and satisfied with life. Has there ever been a people so honoured, so loved, so blessed?
To Him be the glory, forever and ever. Amen
These meditations on the Seven Words have been drawn from several sources, but most particularly from the great Klass Schilder Trilogy, in particular Christ Crucified which is a sequel to Christ in His Suffering and Christ on Trial.
No comments:
Post a Comment