The gym of our old high school was a floor down from the primary classroom building. Two sets of stairs opened from the main hall down to the
small gymnasium.
One morning after P.E., I was walking up those stairs,
heading to my next class. To my dismay I encountered a group of upperclassmen, my sometime tormentors, who were walking down the stairs. “Hey, Carp,”
one of them taunted, slugging me hard on my left shoulder. Without thinking,
I slugged him back.
Which triggered the rest of them, five or six guys, to begin
cursing me and hammering the same spot on my deltoid muscle. That pummeling pretty much summarizes my 9th grade.
Lots of people have
terrible, scarring memories of bullying. I never experienced the bad stuff. No
“swirlies” in the restroom, no really damaging physical violence. My early high
school years were not a living hell. A living heck, maybe.
But because I was not a jock, but a “brain,” a nerd, I
experienced my share of contempt, ostracism, and various attempts, often
successful, to humiliate me.
Christ knew about
bullies. Consider
him who endured from sinners such hostility against himself, so that you may
not grow weary or fainthearted (Hebrews 12:3).
Bullies usually pick on the younger, the smaller, the weaker.
But in Jesus’ case the bullies of the Jewish religious establishment and the
bullies of the Roman government picked on Someone who was:
·
Older. Christ is timeless, ageless, eternal.
·
Bigger. He is so “big,” He is omnipresent: “Do I not fill heaven and earth?” declares
the Lord, Jer. 23:24.
·
And stronger. Our Lord is infinitely powerful,
beyond imagining.
So when He was “bullied,” He let it happen. He lay down His
life (Jn. 10:18). C.S. Lewis’ mighty lion Aslan, submitting to the infernal
hordes of the White Witch, comes to mind.
When you and I were bullied, the truth is that we were no
better than our tormentors. Not really. We might have switched places if we had
had the opportunity.
But Jesus was bullied by people not fit to untie His
sandals.
The image of our Savior being flayed, while the soldiers
hooted and cursed, humbles us. And when we think of Him smeared with spit and
blood, we know He understands the injustices we face. But even more, these horrific memories of His
pain swell our hearts in love for Him and give us endurance. “Consider Him …so
that you may not grow weary or fainthearted.”
