Father, Forgive Them

On that long, lonely night before the cross, Jesus was betrayed by Judas and deserted by the rest of the twelve. He endured six separate trials—all of them illegal—being charged first with blasphemy, then with insurrection—anything to get Him to the cross and out of the way. He was bullied and abused, rejected by the multitudes, and subjected to the horrible pain and humiliation of scourging. He wore the crown of thorns, tolerated the purple robe, endured the wailing of the women, suffered humiliation at the hands of one fool after another, dragged His cross on that long, lonely walk through the streets of Jerusalem—knowing where He was headed and why He was headed there.

On the hill outside the city, He was stripped naked, thrown to the ground, and had spikes driven through His wrists and feet, pinning Him to the cross, a cruel wooden instrument of torture and death. The crosspiece was raised by soldiers and He was fastened to the upright, dangling between earth and heaven. As He hung in the air, the scorn and taunting and insults continued.

And in the deep darkness of that incredible day, I am struck by one impossible sentence in Luke 23:34—

But Jesus was saying, “Father, forgive them; for they do not know what they are doing.”

Do you remember what He said to His disciples at His arrest, just a few hours earlier?

“Do you think that I cannot appeal to my Father, and He will at once send me more than twelve legions of angels? Matthew 26:53

In first-century Palestine, a “legion” was 6,000 well-armed, wonderfully trained fighting men. When Jesus said that the Father would put at His disposal more than 12 legions of angels, He was claiming the potential for direct control over more than 72,000 celestial beings in full battle array.

Seventy-two thousand of the host of heaven is a staggering number when you consider the fact that it took only two to destroy the cities of Sodom and Gomorrah and all the towns in the plain around them within a distance of several miles. And the book of Exodus records the deeds of one lone angel who, in a single night, destroyed ALL the firstborn—both children and cattle—in all the land of Egypt, on the occasion of the first Passover.

Though there is a sense in which these people—the priests and scribes and Pharisees, the members of the Sanhedrin—knew very well what they were doing—they were murdering an innocent man—yet it is probably also true that in their spiritual blindness and the hardness of their own hearts, they did not fully understand to Whom they were doing it. Thus the prayer of Jesus, the Compassionate One, ever the Good Shepherd, returning good for the evil they have done to Him, blessing those who have cursed Him.

“Father, forgive them; for they do not know what they are doing.”

It is in Christ’s darkest hour, during the time of His greatest trial, that we see of what He is made. We torture Jesus, we scourge Him with leather and bits of metal and bone. We laugh at Him and spit on Him and beat Him. We crush a crown of thorns down upon His head. We parade Him through the streets of Jerusalem, so battered and beaten and bruised that Isaiah says He is barely recognizable as a human being. We hammer spikes into His wrists and feet and hang Him out to die upon a cross . . . and all that we get is forgiveness and love.

The Lord Jesus Christ, hanging there on the cross, loving those who were crucifying Him, graphically displayed what it means to love those who do not love us and to forgive those who do not deserve to be forgiven.

“Father, forgive them; for they do not know what they are doing.”

Not in long ages past nor centuries to come has One done so much for so many who could do nothing for themselves—yet those who were getting on with their lives were oblivious to the reality of all that was happening around them.

And I wonder, my friends, is that our experience? Are we oblivious to the work of God all around us? Is the God of love and forgiveness in our midst and have we missed Him? As you think today about His sacrifice for us, may His Spirit so guide your thoughts so that you are brought into a fresh awareness of your need and His provision. May you be confronted afresh by your weakness and His amazing power. May you see anew—or may you see for the first time—something of the height and depth and breadth of His incredible love and forgiveness. And may you be confronted with the wonder of all that took place on that first Good Friday in such a way that your life is forever changed.