John 19:17-27,
and he went out, bearing his own cross, to the place called The Place of a Skull, which in Aramaic is called Golgotha. 18 There they crucified him, and with him two others, one on either side, and Jesus between them. 19 Pilate also wrote an inscription and put it on the cross. It read, “Jesus of Nazareth, the King of the Jews.” 20 Many of the Jews read this inscription, for the place where Jesus was crucified was near the city, and it was written in Aramaic, in Latin, and in Greek. 21 So the chief priests of the Jews said to Pilate, “Do not write, ‘The King of the Jews,’ but rather, ‘This man said, I am King of the Jews.’” 22 Pilate answered, “What I have written I have written.”
23 When the soldiers had crucified Jesus, they took his garments and divided them into four parts, one part for each soldier; also his tunic. But the tunic was seamless, woven in one piece from top to bottom, 24 so they said to one another, “Let us not tear it, but cast lots for it to see whose it shall be.” This was to fulfill the Scripture which says,
“They divided my garments among them,
and for my clothing they cast lots.”So the soldiers did these things, 25 but standing by the cross of Jesus were his mother and his mother's sister, Mary the wife of Clopas, and Mary Magdalene. 26 When Jesus saw his mother and the disciple whom he loved standing nearby, he said to his mother, “Woman, behold, your son!” 27 Then he said to the disciple, “Behold, your mother!” And from that hour the disciple took her to his own home.
In the last year, I finally read Flags of Our Fathers, the famous WWII book about the American invasion of Iwo Jima, a small island off the coast of Japan. The battle was one of the bloodiest and most fatal in World War II. Of the 110,000 troops we sent into Iwo Jima, 7,000 men were killed. 19,000 more were wounded. There’s a statue in Arlington, just outside of D.C., of six soldiers lifting our flag above Mount Suribachi. The book I read focuses on those six young men.
To capture the island, the men had to take the 350-foot mountain. It was an extinct volcano. The Japanese knew that and so they filled it with guns and hammered anyone that came close. The mountain was surrounded by hundreds of yards of empty beach. After they landed, the Americans crawled a slow, grueling advance over days that brought them within two hundred yards of the mountain. They prepared to march, at first light, through the closest thing to hell on earth. The colonel had planned for tanks to provide critical cover fire and armor for the boys. . . . Morning came, but the tanks didn’t, and they couldn’t afford to wait any longer. They faced 200 yards of fury with no cover.
“And then,” the author says, “the heroes of the day began literally to stand up and be counted.”
“One of the first was Lieutenant Keith Wells of Easy Company’s 3rd Platoon. Wells did not tell his men to follow him. He simply got to his feet, waved his gun toward the mountain, and began running. ‘I just thought it was pure suicide,’ he later recalled.” (183)
It wasn’t suicide. And when he stood up and ran forward, the men around him went in after him. They suddenly found the courage they didn’t have even seconds earlier, and they followed him into the fire.
The tanks eventually came, and the troops were able to advance on the Japanese bunkers. In a matter of some horrifying hours, they lifted the stars and stripes 350 feet high. Hundreds of men died during the awful climb. One soldier said, “It wasn’t a matter of living or dying or fighting. It was a matter of helping your friends.” It was a life-and-death matter of love. I don’t know if Lieutenant Wells knew Jesus. . . but he sure looked a whole lot like the Jesus we find here in John 19. It really is as if we see Jesus get to his feet, wave his gun toward the mountain, and begin running into the fire.
What Was Done to Jesus?
In these verses, we’re watching Jesus be crucified. All of the Gospel of John — all of history — has been preparing us for this moment, when the Son of God bears the wrath of God to satisfy the justice of God, rescue the chosen, undeserving people of God, and demonstrate the almighty mercy of God. We’ve arrived at the cross. And as we arrive, I want us to first ask: What was done to Jesus? What did he have to suffer? What did it cost to save us? I see four ways he suffered here, four great nails in this passage, like the nails that were driven into his hands and feet.
First nail, he was cast out. Beginning in verse 16:
“He delivered him over to them to be crucified. So they took Jesus, and he went out, bearing his own cross, to the place called The Place of a Skull, which in Aramaic is called Golgotha.”
What does it mean “he went out”? It doesn’t mean he went out of Pilate’s court. No, he went outside the city. Part of the shame of crucifixion was being cast out of the city. This was a fulfillment of the Old Testament ritual when the priest, on the Day of Atonement, would place the guilt and shame of the people on a goat and then the goat was led out of the city and driven into the wilderness. That’s what’s happening here. Jesus is that goat. Before we kill you, we’re going to remove you from society. Jesus was cast out, and he was cast out by the people he came to save.
Second nail, he was humiliated. In these verses, he was stripped naked. Verse 23:
“When the soldiers had crucified Jesus, they took his garments and divided them into four parts, one part for each soldier. . . .”
Now, this was normal for this kind of execution, but it’s incredibly humiliating and shameful. They weren’t content to hurt these men; they wanted to emasculate and degrade them. He has to suffer horribly, for hours and hours, in front of all these people, and he hangs and bleeds there naked. . . . It’s all the more horrible because he’s the one man with literally nothing to be ashamed of. He never sinned. Pilate says three times, “I find no guilt in him.” And yet, while they could find no shame in him, they covered him in shame. They humiliated him, and treated him like a criminal.
And that bring us to the third nail: he was vilified. Verse 17 again:
“. . . and he went out, bearing his own cross, to the place called The Place of a Skull, which in Aramaic is called Golgotha. There they crucified him, and with him two others, one on either side, and Jesus between them.”
The sinless Son of God was hung there, naked, between two criminals.
The cross was a place for thieves, murderers, and terrorists — the worst of the worst of the worst. And here Jesus hangs, the best of the best of the best. He came healing the sick, giving sight to the blind, stooping to care for children, even loving his enemies — and they condemned him. They saw the very face of Good, and they called him evil.
Fourth and final nail here: the actual nails. He was tortured. Verse 18, again, just four words:
“There they crucified him. . . .”
My word, those four words say so much. He’s already been scourged, struck again and again with a leather whip, laced with metal or stone. And now crucified. This is an awful, awful way to die. They were literally trying to conceive of the most awful way for someone to die — and this is what they came up with. We love the shape of a cross now — we wear it around our necks and put little stickers on our cars and coffee cups — but in this day, those two beams were a horror. A bad word. It was gross and terrifying. Again, they wanted it to be that way. They were scaring people into obedience.
They crossed the beams and then nailed his hands and feet into the wood. And then raised him up for all to see and shudder. To breathe, the dying had to lift themselves up just enough to take a breath. They died because of loss of blood, dehydration, heart failure, a lot of them couldn’t lift themselves to breathe anymore. They suffocated to death, pain coursing through their body. It might take hours or even days for a man to die. . . . All of that in just four words: “There they crucified him. . . .” John witnessed all of this firsthand. And it really feels, to me, like that was all he could bring himself to say — those four words. That’s how horrible this was.
A crucified person is a helpless, pitiful person. The whole point is for the rulers to demonstrate its almighty power and force submission. “Look at what we’ll do to you if you defy us!” They wanted all of Rome to know who was king here. And they did tell everyone who was King, right, but in a very different way.
What Was Jesus Doing?
With the rest of the sermon, I want to look at those four nails one more time, but with different eyes. Instead of asking what was done to Jesus, I want to ask: What was done by Jesus? What was he doing? All I’ve said so far describes the awful things that were done to Jesus — he was cast out, humiliated (stripped naked), vilified (hung beside criminals), and he was tortured — crucified. All of that was happening to him — but what was he doing in these darkest hours?
1. As he was cast out, he bore.
Let’s read verse 17 again:
“And he went out, bearing his own cross, to the place called The Place of a Skull, which in Aramaic is called Golgotha.”
John tells this part of the story different than the other Gospels. In Matthew, Mark, and Luke, Simon carries the cross, but John says Jesus carried it — “bearing his own cross.” Did he just get that part wrong?
No, he watched it all happen. No, we think Jesus must have carried his own cross part of the way before collapsing, and that’s when they grabbed Simon to carry it the rest of the way. Why would John make a point to say that Jesus, and not Simon, bore his own cross? I believe it’s, at least in part, because he wants us to emphasize that Jesus is still in control here. He didn’t just endure the cross, he bore the cross. He took these steps in sovereign strength not in surrender or defeat. Remember John 10:18:
“No one takes it from me, but I lay it down of my own accord. I have authority to lay it down, and I have authority to take it up again.”
There’s also an important irony here, though, in Jesus “bearing his own cross.” Because this wasn’t his cross. This was our cross. “He was pierced for our transgressions,” Isaiah 53:5, “he was crushed for our iniquities; upon him was the chastisement that brought us peace, and with his wounds we are healed.” It was perfectly normal for a criminal to have to carry his own cross out of the city. It wasn’t normal for someone to have carry the crimes of the world on his back like this. As he was cast out, Jesus bore his cross and he bore all our sins against him.
2. As he was unclothed, he clothed.
Jesus was humiliated — not just executed, but stripped naked for all to see. This was part of the judgment he bore for us. And while he was being grossly unclothed, he was preparing to clothe us in his righteousness.
This isn’t as explicit here in these verses, but I couldn’t help but see the deeper, more beautiful reality in Jesus’s humiliation. For our sake, he became poor, so that we, by his poverty, might become rich. And for our sake, he was stripped and exposed — naked — so that we might be wrapped in his seamless, sinless robes. Isaiah 61:10:
I will greatly rejoice in the Lord;
my soul shall exult in my God,
for he has clothed me with the garments of salvation;
he has covered me with the robe of righteousness,
as a bridegroom decks himself
like a priest with a beautiful headdress,
and as a bride adorns herself with her jewels.
If you believe in him and receive his death in your place, he’s going to clothe you like a groom on his wedding day, like a bride covered in white and wearing the finest jewelry. Do you know what that cost? His nakedness, his blood, his death.
You deserved to be stripped, flogged, mocked, hung up between criminals, and left to die — and instead, he treated you like a treasured wife. No one can take his clothes from him. No he allowed himself to be unclothed, to put on the filthy garments of our sin and shame, bearing our guilt and condemnation, so that we might wear his royal robes. His righteousness. “For our sake he made him to be sin who knew no sin, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God” (2 Corinthians 5:21).
3. As he was vilified, he loved.
Jesus may not have been able to physically carry his cross all the way to Golgotha, but he loved at every step — to the very bitter end. We know that he loved his disciples, even when they denied him and fled. We know he loved the crowds, even when they rioted against him.
He loved his killers, the men who pressed the thorns and swung the whips and drove the nails. “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do” (Luke 23:34). He loved the two sinners at his side, the men hanging next to him for their crimes. One of them believed and was saved.
And then Jesus loves like this, look at verse 25:
Standing by the cross of Jesus were his mother and his mother’s sister, Mary the wife of Clopas, and Mary Magdalene. 26 When Jesus saw his mother and the disciple whom he loved standing nearby, he said to his mother, “Woman, behold, your son!” 27 Then he said to the disciple, “Behold, your mother!” And from that hour the disciple took her to his own home.
There’s two things I want you to see here: First, Jesus loves his mom. “Woman, behold, your son!” “Behold, your mother!” He makes sure that someone will look after Mary when he’s gone. He entrusts that high and holy responsibility to one of his closest, most faithful friends. He honors his mother, even to the very bitter end. His Father said, “Honor your father and your mother,” and Jesus wasn’t going to stop now, even now.
If there was ever a moment to set aside that command and focus on himself, this was it, right? But even here, literally on the cross, Jesus goes out of his way to care for his mom — and to make sure that we remember to honor our mothers.
So, Cities Church, will you honor your mother, your father, even now? I don’t know you all well, but I know enough of you well enough to know that’s not a simple question for a lot of you. We have to ask ourselves, do we have better excuses than Jesus did to ignore the command?
Watch Jesus caring for his mother while hanging on the cross and ask what you can do next to honor yours, even this week. If he could love his mom then, while he bore the sins of the world, surely we can love ours now.
Second, though, I want you to see that Jesus takes care of his own — his mother, yes, but all of his own. “Woman, behold, your son!” “Behold, your mother!” He’s caring for both Mary and John here. He loved Peter, even as Peter denied him three times: “Simon, Simon, behold, Satan demanded to have you, that he might sift you like wheat, but I have prayed for you that your faith may not fail. And when you have turned again, strengthen your brothers” (Luke 22:31–32). Even while he was bleeding to death, he cared for the ones he loved. He made sure they had everything they needed. . . .
So do you think he will forget you? While you’re wrestling with all your trials and heartaches, do you think he’s too busy and preoccupied with more important things? Do you think he’ll leave you to fend for yourself? While he was suffocating to death on a cross, he loved his own. Nothing will distract him from those he loves. Nothing will stop him from caring for you. Even as he was vilified, treated like the worst of the worst, he loved.
4. As he was crucified, he reigned.
As he was hung up by nails and hung out to die, he ruled with infinite, unstoppable power. Let’s start in verse 19:
Pilate also wrote an inscription and put it on the cross. It read, “Jesus of Nazareth, the King of the Jews.” 20 Many of the Jews read this inscription, for the place where Jesus was crucified was near the city, and it was written in Aramaic, in Latin, and in Greek. 21 So the chief priests of the Jews said to Pilate, “Do not write, ‘The King of the Jews,’ but rather, ‘This man said, I am King of the Jews.’” 22 Pilate answered, “What I have written I have written.”
You see what’s happening here. Pilate is frustrated that his arm is being twisted so hard like this to execute a man he doesn’t think is guilty. And so he puts the sign up — “The King of the Jews” — not mainly to spite Jesus (who he thinks is innocent), but to spite the Jews. And we know it was about them, because they don’t like it. They confront him: “Do not write, ‘The King of the Jews,’ but rather, ‘This man said, I am King of the Jews.’” To which Pilate says, “I said what I said.” “What I have written I have written.” It’s Pilate’s little pitiful way to exercise his “great” authority (while doing what he didn’t want to do). It’s a power play (and a tantrum). And while this itty bitty governor and this tiny whiny crowd pitch their fits, we find out what’s really happening. We find out who really has the power on Golgotha. Next verse:
They took his garments and divided them into four parts, one part for each soldier; also his tunic. But the tunic was seamless, woven in one piece from top to bottom, 24 so they said to one another, “Let us not tear it, but cast lots for it to see whose it shall be.”
Again, this was pretty typical — soldiers divvying up the clothes. But these guys said, “Oh this is a nice piece of cloth. Let’s not tear it up.” And so they cast lots for the one piece. And John immediately says, verse 24,
“This was to fulfill the Scripture which says, ‘They divided my garments among them, and for my clothing they cast lots.’” This is Psalm 22. John quotes the psalm and he says, “So the soldiers did these things. . . .”
I don’t know if six words ministered to me more this year. And it’s really just the first word: “So the soldiers did these things. . . .” Who was in control here? The soldiers carrying swords? The crowds yelling, “Crucify him!”? Little Pilate caving to all the pressure? No, they all did what they were told. Why did the soldiers do what they did with the thorns, the whip, the nails, the seamless tunic? Because God said so. Because the almighty God of mercy promised to send a Savior who would suffer and die for the sins of the world. It’s John who says in Acts 4:27–28:
“Truly in this city there were gathered together against your holy servant Jesus, whom you anointed, both Herod and Pontius Pilate, along with the Gentiles and the peoples of Israel, to do whatever your hand and your plan had predestined to take place.” (Acts 4:27–28).
In fewer words: “So the soldiers did these things. . . .” There was one King over Golgotha on Good Friday — and it wasn’t whiny Pilate or his adorable little emperor. And to make sure that was clear to everyone that Jesus was king, God made sure that it was announced in not one but three languages.
Will You Bow?
Look at verses 19–20 one more time:
Pilate wrote an inscription and put it on the cross. It read, “Jesus of Nazareth, the King of the Jews.” 20 Many of the Jews read this inscription, for the place where Jesus was crucified was near the city, and it was written in Aramaic, in Latin, and in Greek.
Why those languages? Because Pilate wanted everybody around to get his joke. He wanted all the Jews to feel the sting. . . . Is that really why, though? No, this is a seamless-tunic moment. Pilate wrote what he wrote on that sign to do what God’s hand and plan had predestined to take place. God wanted everyone in the city to hear this sermon — “Jesus is the King!” — and so he wrote it in all the local languages: Aramaic, Latin, and Greek.
And now I’m climbing up to add English — for your sake. God wanted the whole world to know that the King had come, that he died for you, and that he will live and reign for all who bow to him in faith. He was pierced for your transgressions, crushed for your iniquities, humiliated for your shame, reviled for your rebellion — if he’s your King. So will you bow this morning?
