He Took the Blows for Me

In about 30 A.D., more or less (scholars disagree, but the exact year or day doesn't matter) Jesus met his fate. He knew about it long before, but he didn't run away from it. The Son of God already was sent to the world to save humanity, before time began. Jesus, the Son of God in flesh, willingly
took on the task. Jesus wasn't sucker-punched by the betrayal of Judas; he knew it would happen. Jesus hadn't earned and didn't deserve the spit, the punches, the beard-pulling, the insults, the whipping, the hatred, the anger, and the shaming. He didn't turn away from any of it, either. He took it on for us.

Why did Jesus have to take so much abuse? Why did he just soak it up? Why couldn't he just die a quiet death at home? Because he chose to be killed in an inglorious manner, rather than an honorable one, (to paraphrase Athanasius) in order to defeat every kind of death, not just the easy kind at the end of a long life. More than that, he accepted the hatred and jealousy, even the betrayal, of his own people the Jews, in order to take the worst that fallen humans had to offer. And he took all the beatings and jeering of the Roman conquerors, in order to accept the worst that twisted and improper power and authority could dish out. From the least to the greatest, all had their shot at Jesus; and he, the greatest of all, took it all in order to soak up and gather to himself all sorts of evil, to be killed by it and by his resurrection, to defeat every kind of death and evil. But that's getting ahead of the story. This is only Friday. Wait until Sunday!