“And one of them struck the servant of the high priest and cut off his right ear. But Jesus answered and said, “Permit even this.” And He touched his ear and healed him.” Luke 22:50-51
It’s amazing to me that the events of that tragic and wonderful night were set into motion by the betrayal of Jesus by one of His closest friends. So sad. So unbelievably and wretchedly sad. If anyone has ever hurt you, ever wronged you, ever lied about you – well, then you know a bit of what Jesus must have been feeling as His dear friend sealed their relationship with a kiss. Heart wrenching – and enough in itself to make this a terrible night in the life of a young man living in hostile world, so far from home.
The second big moment tumbles in on top of the first as the passionate Peter uses his sword to stop the progress of the plan of God (I totally see myself here, weapon in hand, swinging wildly at the very thing that will eventually set me free.) This is not okay, so Jesus simply…fixes it.
Seriously? Think about it. Think of the just knifed-in-the-back Jesus, holding a bloody ear in His hand while the soldier screams in pain. Even in the midst of His own soul-deep agony, Jesus remembers this: He came to heal. So many times I get caught in the turmoil of the moment and forget why I’m really here. But Jesus doesn’t. He’s about to die to heal all humanity, so it would be the worse kind of hypocrisy to let this one leave the garden broken and marked for the rest of his life by the events of Jesus’ death. And so He heals both his enemy’s wound, and Peter’s mistake. Amazing.
Healing was – and is – an extravagant benefit of the cross. His stripes for our sickness. His wounds for our weakness. Every mark that landed on His body that day was filled with power and purpose. Every bruise on the sinless skin of the Lamb of God contained freedom from death and disease and despair.
Every one. For everyone.
Oh, how I love the cross!
Easter countdown: 5 days.