The Crucified Is My Love. Johann Ernst von Holst

and shamefully treated and spit upon. And after flogging him, they will kill him, and on the third day he will rise.”

       Luke 18:31–33

      AS LONG AS THE TEMPLE OF JEHOVAH was standing in Jerusalem and the beautiful services of the Lord were celebrated there, every year when spring came and the Passover festival was drawing near, the joyful cry rang out, “We are going up to Jerusalem!” It resounded in all the towns and villages, cottages and palaces of the Holy Land. When Jesus went to the festival for the first time with his parents as a twelve-year-old boy, how joyfully it rang in his soul: “We are going up to Jerusalem!” This continued throughout his earthy walk to the first years of his mission.

      How different in content and tone this call sounds in today’s text. Jesus was on his last journey and, accompanied by his disciples, came from the land on the east side of the Jordan into the southern Jordan Valley on the great military road that led to Jericho. This was the most beautiful and most fertile region in the whole land. The road led through avenues of palm trees, rose gardens, and fragrant fields. It was spring once more and the Passover was again near. Everything was green and in bloom; aromatic scents filled the air. Throngs of joyful pilgrims passed them from all directions. The pinnacles of Jericho glittered as they drew near. The road to Jerusalem, situated on the holy hill only a six-hour walk away, led through this town.

      “We are going up to Jerusalem!” rang joyfully in the hearts of the pilgrims, and the Lord’s disciples and friends were filled with hope. They expected that there he would triumph at long last over the horde of the mighty and embittered foe and gloriously establish his kingdom. The Lord also said to his disciples these words, “We are going up to Jerusalem” – but what did he add? “The Son of Man will be delivered over to the Gentiles and will be mocked and shamefully treated and spit upon. And after flogging him, they will kill him, and on the third day he will rise.”

      This pilgrimage was the road to his suffering and death, and he walked it with unflinching faithfulness. For his heart glowed with love for his Jerusalem. It was the city of the great king, his anointed ancestor David, and it was the city of the great God, his heavenly Father.

      His soul was filled with deep sadness: “Jerusalem, Jerusalem, the city that kills the prophets and stones those who are sent to it! How often would I have gathered your children together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings, and you were not willing!” (Matt. 23:37) Since he could do nothing else for his royal city, he wanted to die in her and for her. His road to the heavenly Jerusalem for which he longed passed through this earthly, doomed Jerusalem. There is no city on earth today that has the significance of the old Jerusalem – but we yearn for the heavenly one of which we sing.

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      Thursday Evening

      The Disciples’ Road

      And taking the twelve, he said to them, “See, we are going up to Jerusalem, and everything that is written about the Son of Man by the prophets will be accomplished. For he will be delivered over to the Gentiles and will be mocked and shamefully treated and spit upon. And after flogging him, they will kill him, and on the third day he will rise.” But they understood none of these things. This saying was hidden from them, and they did not grasp what was said.

       Luke 18:31–34

      WHEN THE LORD TOLD THEM what he would have to suffer, the souls of his listeners were stunned as if by a thunderclap. “But they understood none of these things. This saying was hidden from them, and they did not grasp what was said.” They heard but did not understand; they saw but did not perceive (Mark 4:12). They understood nothing of the Lord’s thoughts because they were full of their own ideas. They did not want to hear of suffering and death, for they were dreaming of happiness and glory. They saw in their mind’s eye the dawning glory of the Messiah’s kingdom with its proclamation of healing and salvation. They thought that what the Master was saying about shame, suffering, and death must be some kind of parable, meaning something quite different from the actual words. They felt only one thing: that there was something terribly oppressive in the Lord’s words, so they continued on their way with him, half-stunned.

      But the Lord knew exactly what was awaiting him. He foresaw the shadows of Gethsemane and felt the horror of the cross on Golgotha. He had the power to turn back at each step and return to his Father’s glory, yet he went forward. What was it that urged him to go this way to the end? It was obedience to his Father’s will, compassionate love toward the lost world. So he strode on to his bloody death, but in his heart he bore the comfort of a victorious resurrection. And wherever he went and wherever he stayed, heavenly blessing lay on his work – such as the blind man who was healed by his faith (Mark 10:52) and the salvation that came to Zacchaeus (Luke 19:9).

      But the Lord did not say, “I am going up to Jerusalem.” He said, “We are going.” It is this “we” that we have to emphasize. For it does not apply only to those first disciples; it also applies to us insofar as we want to be his followers. For us, too, the way to glory passes through suffering and death. To suffer with Christ for sin in the obedience of faith; to give up all foolish wishes and vain hopes with our eyes fixed on him; with him and in love to him to give our old self up to death; to die with him in quiet confidence in a blessed resurrection when our last hour comes; and then to be with him forever in the heavenly Jerusalem – this is our task.

      If a stranger should ask us on our pilgrim way, “Where are you going?” then our whole life and being should answer, “We are going up to Jerusalem.” When young people are accepted into the church and then have to face the world, when newlyweds begin their married life together, when men or women are given a new task – they should say to themselves, “We are going up to Jerusalem.” Not only at this season of Lent when we accompany our Lord on his way to suffering and the cross, but throughout our whole walk on this earth, both in the springtime and in the winter of life, may this remain our watchword: “We are going up to Jerusalem.”

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      Friday Morning

      The Fire of the Spirit and the Baptism of Suffering

       I came to cast fire on the earth, and would that it were already kindled! I have a baptism to be baptized with, and how great is my distress until it is accomplished!

       Luke 12:49–50

      WHAT KIND OF FIRE does Christ want to kindle on earth? It is the fire of the Holy Spirit, as John the Baptist already prophesied, “He who is coming after me will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and with fire” (Matt. 3:11). Accordingly, the Holy Spirit came on the Day of Pentecost in tongues of fire. This fire has a consuming power to begin with. It is a fire that causes dissension and struggle, and the Lord throws it into the sinner’s breast to awake him from sleep and death. As he said, “I have not come to bring peace, but a sword” (Matt. 10:34). For it consumes darkness, sin, and destruction. That is why all who want to continue in the rotten state of this world hate it, and it gives rise to a fierce battle against the disciples of the Lord. But where its consuming power has stood the test, it also becomes a fire of joy and blessing. It enlightens the hearts of believers and leads them to know God. It purifies their souls from sin and guilt and raises them to a life of communion with God. Its holy flames mount to the Father of Light as worshiping love and burn in selfless dedication in serving others. Where this fire is burning, it is heaven on earth. The disciples on the road to Emmaus felt it when they said, “Did not our hearts burn within us while he talked to us on the road?” (Luke 24:32).

      Now, when the Lord called out on his last journey, “Would that it were already kindled!” he gave his disciples a deep insight into his heart and soul. He bears this fire within himself, and he knows that it must be kindled in others. He sees it burning in the breast of his disciples, spreading from heart to heart, from nation to nation, a fiery sign flaming from century to century. Yes, he sees at last the new heaven and the new earth in this element of the eternal light. An intense longing for that time lays hold of him.

      But now a deep sadness