Devotional Thoughts

The Crucifixion of Jesus

This post by Chris Anderson is an excerpt from Sundown to Sundown: Meditations on the Twenty-Four Hours Preceding Jesus’ Death (Day 22), released in 2025.

“We love because he first loved us. (1 John 4:19)

Jesus suffered through the night. Suffered through trials. Suffered through beatings, through mockery, and through the unspeakable brutality of the scourge. Worn by pain, by blood loss, by grief, He navigated the narrow streets of Jerusalem. Falling beneath the weight of the cross. Unable to bear it alone.

Finally, He arrived at Golgotha. He was stripped naked. His outer garment became the prize of a lucky soldier who won a game of chance (John 19:23–24). Another humiliation. Another insult. Another prophecy fulfilled (Psalm 22:18).

So began the most momentous event in history. And yet, Scripture’s description of the event is surprisingly understated: “And they crucified him” (Mark 15:23).

In an encyclopedic article on crucifixion, Henry Dosker details the physical agonies that accompanied death on a cross—the scourging, the nails, the shredded tendons and nerves, the fever-induced confusion, the inevitable dehydration, and the plodding suffocation. He finally concludes, “The victim of crucifixion literally died a thousand deaths.” (Henry E. Dosker, “Cross,” in The International Standard Bible Encyclopedia, ed. James Orr [Peabody, MA: Hendriksen Publishers, 1956], 2:761).

Jesus’ hands and feet were affixed to a rugged cross. While the pain was excruciating, no bones were broken. The Roman torturers were experts at their cruel craft. The cross was hoisted into place with thoughtless efficiency. And Jesus’ life began to drip away.

Ken Gire describes what witnesses would have seen outside the walls of Jerusalem that day: Pools of blood beading the dirt beneath the cross. A heavy spike through the feet. Ribs protruding against the skin. Open wounds bothered by flies. Eyes swollen with fever. Hair matted from this morning’s thorns. Hands raised to God on splintered wood. A slumped torso, dangling from impaled wrists like some grotesque pendant.

The physical agonies were nearly infinite. And yet they paled in comparison to the spiritual agonies our Savior endured. It was all terrible. Terrible.

So, what are we to do with this grisly information? How are we to respond in the face of such agony? I suggest two essential responses to the horrors of Calvary.

Look at the cross and abhor your sin.

We only see the cross correctly when we see in it our own guilt. We are as responsible for Jesus’ death as Pilate and Herod, the Sanhedrin, and the soldiers. Our sins put Jesus there. Our crimes killed the Son of God. Our lust, our pride, our deceit, our rebellion. Scripture reminds us of this repeatedly:

  • He was pierced for our transgressions; he was crushed for our iniquities. (Isaiah 53:5)
  • Christ died for us. (Romans 5:8)
  • Christ died for our sins. (1 Corinthians 15:3)

How then can we treat our secret sins as cherished prizes? How can we coddle our lust, our greed, our dishonesty? How can we savor the very things that caused our Lord such agonies? How can we rationalize that our sins are no big deal?

Our tolerance of our own sin is obscene. Imagine that my young daughter were ripped to pieces by a stray dog. Imagine me rushing her to the hospital, praying for her recovery, then grieving her death. Now imagine me returning home, seeing the dog that shredded her—and scratching it behind the ears. Wrestling with it. Playing fetch.

It would be obscene. I should loathe the beast. And so should I be with my besetting sins which required the life of the Lord Jesus.

Look at the cross and adore your Savior.

We need to think often on Jesus’ suffering for our salvation. But we need to beware of becoming morbidly fixated on His suffering, and even on our grief. Self-loathing is not the first and great commandment. Love is. And if God was deserving of love under the Old Covenant, how much more should Jesus’ sacrificial love ignite in us a fiery love in return?

The cross is the crux of the Christian faith. There, God’s wrath and God’s love converged. There, our debt was paid. There, sin’s claim on us was broken and our very identity was changed. There, we were purchased from sin as the beloved possessions—indeed, the children—of God. There, our hell was borne and our hope was born.

Our meditations on the cross should move us beyond grief, to worship, to adoration, and to service. Our sorrow should strengthen our sanctification. Our gratitude should find expression in obedience. And our love for God and others should abound, as 1 John 4:19 says: “We love because He first loved us.”

Let the death of Jesus, as terrible as it was, transform the way you live.

O love divine, O matchless grace—
That God should die for men!
With joyful grief I lift my praise,
Abhorring all my sin,
Adoring only Him.

MORE MEDITATIONS ON CHRIST’S ATONEMENT

What if you could step into the final 24 hours before Jesus’ crucifixion and witness His love, suffering, and sacrifice firsthand? Sundown to Sundown is a 31-day devotional that journeys through the most profound day in human history, following Jesus from the upper room to Gethsemane, from Gabbatha to Golgotha. Each meditation unpacks the depth of His words, prayers, and trials, helping believers slow down and behold the wonder of Christ’s love.

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