The sugar rush is over.  Most of the Easter candy and chocolate bunnies have been consumed.  Those that were buzzing from near dangerous blood sugar levels have now calmed down, and eyesight has regained its normal focus.  I admit, I do have a sweet tooth, but mine seems to be different than the rest of my family.  While they are reaching for gummy bears, I’d prefer the old-fashioned taste of Italian biscotti or Dove chocolate.  I actually bought some delicacies for myself just in case the temptation of reaching into kid’s baskets was too alluring.  I had a little reserve, a sugar stash, secretly tucked away.  It has only been less than a week.  The holiday rush has come and gone.  It feels like Easter was a lifetime ago already.    

The daffodils were bloomed.  Precious.  I took this photo right before Easter.  It seems fitting to post it today, Holocaust Rememberance Day.  While looking through my photo albums I couldn’t help but think this particular flower was looking the other way.  It appeared preoccupied to me, almost as if its pose was staged.  A woeful smile, a mannequin of natural beauty, this daffodil just couldn’t, and wouldn’t, cooperate.  When the rest of the world is rejoicing and coming off their sugar high, there are some who are still saddened this week by the remembrance of those lost.  This flower, though blooming to its bright and glorious potential, has its gaze focused on another thought. . . perhaps the six million that didn’t make it to see the Easter it did.

Six million people.  Hard to believe.  Hard to imagine.  Hard to process or digest.  

How could six million people be exterminated like animals, unwanted pests?  How could the minds and hearts of those in ruling power stoop to such a level, one that a human heart could do such cold atrocities to another?  How could a heart or an eye or a prayer be so blind to what was going on?

Undisputable, there is a pain woven through the Holocaust that cannot be described.  Though attempts are made, none can truly do it justice.  I have studied it some.  I once did a school project that was admired by my teacher so much that she kept it.  During our high school’s tenth grade unit about what happened in Europe during the advancement of Nazi Germany, I constructed a sculpture depicting my take on what had occurred.  My teacher tried to get it into the Holocaust museum.  Not sure what ever happened to it.

Barbed wire.  Train cars filled with humans like cattle.  Chaos.  Fears.  Families separated in chaos and fear.  It was something that should have never happened.

But it did.

And this week, we remember those lost to this tragic event.

A few months ago, I read the novel Beneath a Scarlet Sky by Mark Sullivan.  The author spent many years researching for that book.  Raw and detailed, the account was gripping; it was very hard to get through some of the chapters at times.  To read about what happened to men and women, boys and girls. . . just because they were Jewish. . . just because they were handicapped, or elderly, or other things not so esteemed by a vicious dictator. . . it breaks the heart in a deep and wounded place.  To hear the accounts of families separated, mothers not knowing where their children were, husbands not knowing where their wives were. . . it was almost too difficult to read.

But in the 1940’s, it really happened.

To truly mirror a pain like this tragedy and understand it in a real way is a notion hard to come by.  So much of it just baffles the mind.  So much of it doesn’t make sense.  I think of the Bible, and one particular passage stands out to me quite clearly.  It is a passage most pertinent, as Holy Week was only a few days away.  I think of Christ, and the pain of His passion, one that was also an indescribable event.  We can find it in scripture in the gospels.  I want to look specifically at the account in both the book of Matthew and Luke.  We know it as the prayer in the garden.

Matthew 26:36-39

Then Jesus went with them to a place called Gethsemane, and he said to his disciples, “Sit here, while I go over there and pray.” And taking with him Peter and the two sons of Zebedee, he began to be sorrowful and troubled. Then he said to them, “My soul is very sorrowful, even to death; remain here, and watch with me.” And going a little farther he fell on his face and prayed, saying, “My Father, if it be possible, let this cup pass from me; nevertheless, not as I will, but as you will.”

We see in this passage that Jesus was “sorrowful to the point of death.”  I have never been this sorrowful.  Though I’ve had rough times in my life, I’m still here, so sorrow hasn’t taken me yet.  I think of what the Lord was dealing with.  He knew what had already happened; Judas couldn’t hide his pieces of silver from Jesus’ knowledge.  The Christ knew what was coming; He could see it all.  Betrayal.  Mockery.  The brutality that one human can inflict upon another.  Hate.  The judgment of the religious authorities.  The picture they would paint his name with.  Shame.

But was there more to it?  Luke’s account brings things down to earth in an even deeper way.

Luke 22:39-44

And he came out and went, as was his custom, to the Mount of Olives, and the disciples followed him. And when he came to the place, he said to them, “Pray that you may not enter into temptation.” And he withdrew from them about a stone's throw, and knelt down and prayed, saying, “Father, if you are willing, remove this cup from me. Nevertheless, not my will, but yours, be done.” And there appeared to him an angel from heaven, strengthening him. And being in agony he prayed more earnestly; and his sweat became like great drops of blood falling down to the ground. 

I have never known anguish so fierce to pull blood from my sweat.

In respect to both Holocaust day and what the Lord has done for us, the pain that both bring to the heart and soul who is aware of what happened, both these events are hard burdens to bear.  Those who lost loved ones in Nazi Europe knew pain.  The Christ, the Son of the living God, knew pain.  It is a common bond today as I think about it all. . . pain. . . one so heavy that the solemn daffodil may have had to turn its pretty face away.

But what was the pain that Jesus faced that dreadful night?  What could cause such pain to draw the tint of human blood through sweat pores of the skin?

Isn’t it the same thing the Jews faced during 1941-1945?

Judgment.

What a word.

During WW2, the Jewish population in its most simplistic terms was judged by another.  The consequences of being Jewish at that time were steep, as men and women, children, were herded like cattle and taken to places throughout Europe to be exterminated.  Though the innocence of being Jewish was in our eyes as legit as breathing itself, others did not see it that way in their plight to rid the world of them.  It was a judgment unfair, unkind, and unwarranted.

Christ’s judgment was of a different kind.  Much like my daffodil, it was something Christ had to just turn His head and endure.  Yes, He was judged by the religious rulers of the day and age, but that was nothing compared to what he would really face.  Like child’s play, he could handle the mockery and banter that came from mouths who didn’t know what they were really doing.  Yes, it was also unfair, unkind, and unwarranted. . . but it was also necessary for something greater.  

Reading through the gospels lately, I’ve noticed that Jesus was fiercely protective of this one future event.  Over and over in His ministry, He warned people not to tell who He was.  He warned people not to say the good things He was doing for them.  He spoke in parables, in stories, in seemingly riddled phraseology. . . and one must ask the question: why?  Why was so much of what Jesus did kept in quiet?

The Cross.

It occurred to me the other day that Jesus needed to keep things quiet.  How could He let the whole world know who He really was until after His purpose was fulfilled?  Think about it.  If the real story of who He was actually got out and was believed by the religious leaders, they never would have crucified Him.  To make sure this event happened, He protected it with everything He had.  Why?  

The Cross.

Seriously.  Protect the cross?  Protect the judgment?

When Jesus prayed on His face in the garden of Gethsemane, He knew exactly what He was praying for.  Was there any other way?  Was there any other plan?  It wasn’t the pain of the crucifixion He so desperately wanted freed from.  It wasn’t the ridicule of the leaders.  He could have endured the bloodshed, the slaps in the face, even the nails in His hands and feet.  He easily would have taken the false reports about Him in stride.  But what He saw in the garden was different.  I believe what really pulled those blood drops of sweat from Christ’s brow, was that Jesus looked into the annals of the future and saw something so awful, so epic, so insanely hideous. . . something that you and I were destined for.  Something He would have to shoulder for us.  Something no other being could actually process its true existence. Jesus saw our judgment and punishment. . . something nobody had ever seen and lived to tell of.

Think about it. . . Jesus Christ was the only being alive who knew the full judgment of what your sin and my sin deserved.  He was the only living and breathing individual to ever taste the full judgment of the death that sin produces. . . and be still here on the earth to express it.  He saw it all, as He knows the future.  Looking into the cross that night, Jesus saw the full taste of the cup He was required to drink for your salvation and mine.  It was awful.  It was hideous.  Our judgment was ugly. It was something greater than any form of torture one living could know.  To hold the true weight of sin.  To be judged as guilty and separated from the Father’s union.  Jesus saw the payment salvation would require.  He saw the true penalty of what sin brought into this world.  Our lives.  Our shortcoming. Our judgment.

I believe when Jesus looked into that cup. . . the fury of God’s wrath on sin. . . it tormented Him in ways no other person could ever process.  Make no mistake about it.  Hell is real.  Judgment is real.  The penalty for sin is real.  And when Jesus saw it. . . well. . . now we understand why he was pained sorrow to the point of death and sweating drops of blood.

It was something beyond comprehension.

Incredible.

But what is more incredible, is that He went through with it!  He took the next step!  He took that judgment! He paid the price for us!

For the love that God has for us, His creation, and the Love that Jesus has for those the Father has given to Him, He chose to go through with it.  It was His decision.  He loved that much.

1 John 4:8 says that “God is love.”

Beyond incredible.

So, this year, Holocaust day has rolled around again.  In my estimation, it is an incredible opportunity to not only remember the past and reflect on it, but to remember what Jesus also went through. . . a similar event of atrocity.  It is my estimation that there is no more perfect of a day to reflect on what Jesus stared in the face and chose to go through. . . for you, for me. . . than this one.  There is no better day than today, a day given to you by grace.  There is no better time than the now.

Jesus knew pain.

He still did it.

My challenge to you today, is simple.  If you want to know a love that great, open your arms and heart to embrace His gift of salvation.  You don’t need to work for it.  You don’t need to earn it.  It’s already done.  He did it 2000 years ago.  All the blood, the judgment, the pain of what you and I deserve as sinners in a sinful world. . . it has all been finished and completed.  My deserved separation from God because of sin has been bridged. I can now enjoy eternal peace. So can you. All you need to do is believe in the one who paid the price for you and accept Him.  

Please, my friend, make the greatest decision of your life and take hold of the precious gift Jesus wants you to receive.  It is rather quite simple, really.

Romans 10:9 gives us the extremely simple solution:

because, if you confess with your mouth that Jesus is Lord and believe in your heart that God raised him from the dead, you will be saved.

Salvation.

Eternal life.

Today.

By Chuck Carr

feature image credit: BBC News/Getty Images.