The cacophony of enraged voices ratcheted up another notch. Nearly deafening cries reverberated across the air. Hate and anger emanated from the crowd in nearly palpable waves. Their rabid screams were punctuated by raised fists and hands ready to fight. They would have their way and theirs alone. Try as he might, the chaos was growing further and further out of control. No matter what he found, what he knew to be true, or what compromise he offered, the unreasonable demands of the people remained the same. Urgently echoing from the teeming courtyard came the enraged cry, “Crucify Him!” So he did.
It was not Pilate’s proudest moment, this moment where he’d waffled and wavered between his love for approval and his responsibility to the truth. His final capitulation to the pull of popularity forced history to write him as he truly was. A coward. His every action boldly underscored this abject truth. The refusal to take responsibility for his own courtroom. His pointless hand washing as if water could redeem his erroneous choice. The spineless acquiescence to the demands of the crowd, unable and unwilling to stand up for what he knew to be true when everyone else was falling for lies. His final handing over of an innocent man to brutalization and death at the hands of people he knew were so deeply entrenched in their sin that the very idea of change caused something ugly and violent to rise within them. Pilate has no one to blame but himself that his historical presence is shrouded in the murky bog of cowardice. (Matthew 27:11-26; Mark 15:1-15; Luke 23:1-25; John 18:28-19:16)
Unfortunately, he’s not alone there. Pilate shares that status with a multitude of nameless, faceless others. People who knew Jesus was innocent. People who knew He was the Christ. People who had been healed by the sound of His words, the touch of His hand, the brush of His garment. People who had watched Him work, listened to Him speak, found their lives forever changed because they had adhered to His words. People who, just days before, were singing, “Hosanna,” in the streets, paving the ground before Him with their cloaks, and fanning palm branches over Him as He rode into Jerusalem on a colt. Yet no matter what they knew, what they believed, what they could unequivocally prove, they were nowhere to be found among this crowd of raging murderers. No one came forward. No one spoke up. Not a word was uttered. Not a peep. Not a sound. If they were there at all, their cowardice made them silent observers when they should have been the loudest voices in the room.
Where, exactly, were all those people at this specific moment? Where were they when Pilate decided to take a vote? Where were they while their miracle-working Savior was being scorned and ridiculed, mocked and beaten? Where were they when the miscreant crowd of vigilantes decided to have a field day? Where were they when the Son of God was handed over to be brutally murdered for crimes He hadn’t done? I wish I knew!
I wish I knew where the Christian contingency was while Jesus was enduring the darkest moments of His earthly journey. I wish I knew why no one was there speaking up on His behalf. I wish I knew why people who were unafraid to ask Him for healing and miracles and food were too afraid to stand up for Him no matter the outcome. Those multitudes who greedily ate loaves and fishes could surely have assembled a small crowd to come to His defense. The people who hungrily listened to His words in the temple should certainly have spoken up. His disciples, scattered to the four winds at the first breeze of trouble, have absolutely no excuse for their failure to appear. For surely, I think, if all these voices had collectively spoken up, shouted out, surely then, things would have been different.
Admittedly, God didn’t plan it that way. Our redemption couldn’t be purchased with some measly sacrifice placatingly offered in an effort to appease the much-deserved anger of Almighty God. Our sins were too great. Our debt too high. Our inability to pay too obvious. Only the highest price, the most perfect sacrifice could ever atone for the monumental mess humanity continually makes of their lives. Our hearts know the scene with PIlate had to play out the way it did. It was part of a grander plan. A plan around which we have so much trouble wrapping our finite minds. An infinite plan, created by an infinite God, to enact infinite redemption for finite humanity. Those who would accept it. Those who wouldn’t. All offered the same opportunity through the same sacrifice. Salvation would be available for all. (Matthew 20:28; II Corinthians 5:21; Isaiah 55:6; Acts 4:12; John 7:37-38)
As much as I adore the end result–redemption that covers every ugly, irritating, embarrassing, degrading sin we ever commit–I continually find myself coming back to those people who failed to turn up, stand up, speak up on behalf of Jesus Christ. The law of averages says some of them had to have been there. It seems highly unlikely no one who had been touched by Jesus was present at those proceedings. They had to have heard the options. They must surely have seen the direction things were going. Why, then, were they stonily silent? Even if they knew their words would be lost in a sea of discordant caterwauling, why didn’t they say something, say anything, to someone, to anyone? Did they not realize their words could change lives, even if they weren’t the loudest voices in the room? Did they fail to comprehend the effect their words could have on just one person to whom they had the courage to speak? Or was their silence borne of self-preservation, social jockeying, or spineless cowardice?
Perhaps they were uninformed about the power of words. Maybe they didn’t realize the power to hurt and heal lies therein. Perhaps they didn’t know they could share the light of Christ through a well-placed word, a timely conversation. Maybe they hadn’t heard about the Samaritan woman Jesus spoke with at the well. His conversation with her changed her life. And many other lives. Why? Because she wasn’t afraid to stand up and speak up for what she knew to be true. (Proverbs 18:21)
We wouldn’t blame her had she been hesitant. She wasn’t an upstanding paragon of virtue. No one assumed she would reach sainthood. In fact, it is likely entire social groups would have studiously avoided contact with her. Yet she went back home and started talking. To anyone. To everyone. There is nothing to indicate she was discriminatory with whom she shared her message. And people believed. Something real emanated from the words of her testimony, compelling them to believe and making them hungry to have it for themselves. So they came to Jesus. Listened to Him teach. Soaked up every ounce of His wisdom and presence. And the seed of belief planted by a morally questionable woman was proven true. Their faith was not misplaced. Jesus was the Christ. The Savior. They had met Him. Their hearts resonated with the truth only intimate acquaintances can know. Jesus, the Savior of the world, had come. (John 4:39-42)
It might never have happened if she’d never spoken up. If she’d clutched the message to herself and never shared the news, how many people would have missed hearing the words of life? If she’d let the evil one convince her no one would listen to a woman with her reputation, how many people would have missed the opportunity of salvation? If for one second she’d believed it a farce, that the Savior of the world would never speak to her, then her own miserable existence would never have been redeemed nor would that of those who heard her words. What would have happened to the “many” who heard her words and came to Jesus? What if she’d been too shy, too scared, too scarred by previous social encounters to share her truth? How many people would have been eternally lost if she hadn’t courageously been the loudest voice in the room? How many people will be negatively, eternally affected if you aren’t?
You see, friends, there’s a whole society outside the doors of our homes and churches spewing ugly words of hate and dismissal toward Jesus Christ, His sacrifice for sin, His teachings, His commands. There’s a crushing social pressure attempting to force us to believe things contrary to His Word. As we see more and more capitulation to these beliefs, the snide voice of the evil one whispers in our ear that the current social climate makes it impossible to turn the tide and preserve the Biblical truths of life-changing salvation and Heaven-attaining holiness. He says there is nothing we can do. We’ll be tempted to believe him. (Colossians 2:8; I Peter 5:8)
In our world, where the loudest voices seem to always get their way, it seems so unlikely our quieter voices will be heard. It feels like no one will listen. No one will hear. Nothing can change. The evil one wants us to think that. Why? Because, standing as we are in the tension between shrinking good and thriving evil, we are poised on the cusp of a magnificent opportunity. The opportunity to do what the people outside Pilate’s hall failed to do, yet the Samaritan woman did with her whole being. Speak truth. Unerringly. Spread the good news of Jesus Christ. Lavishly. Support true Biblical teachings. Staunchly. Boldly. Verbally. Regardless who or where you are. Step up. Stand up. Speak up. Even if you aren’t the loudest voice in the room, speak words of life, words of truth, words of Jesus! (Acts 1:8; Mark 16:15-16; Matthew 10:33; I Corinthians 15:58)
Our commission is to stead the Word-Amen!!!!