By: Donna Clark
A few days prior to Easter, I walked into the nail salon I patronize and was directed to station five. My nail technician quickly sat in front of me. I picked a beautiful pink, and she began to work her magic. I’d been her client for several months; however, our conversations were always surface level. She asked me if I had any Easter plans and I, in turn, asked her the same. I was not prepared for her response, and honestly, as I write this, I’m still searching for the words to describe the feeling I had when, in her broken English, she replied that her family did not observe Easter, it was “just another day.” Just another day.
Thankfully, I grew up in a Christian home. I was taught the Easter story and hold tightly to the belief that Jesus Christ is the Son of God and of His suffering a terrible death in order to give me life. A few years ago, I dug deeper into the crucifixion and found myself horrified by a physician’s description of the agony this Man endured. Yes, those who share this same faith understand there was a beating and a cross, three nails, and a spear. But there’s so much more to this event.
I discovered there is a medical condition, hematidrosis, in which under conditions of extreme physical or emotional stress, blood vessels that feed the sweat glands can hemorrhage. This was the beginning of the suffering as Jesus prayed in the garden that night, sweating great drops of blood as He asked His Father if there would be any another way for mankind to be saved. Then He was taken by night to the High Priest, Caiphus, where He was blindfolded, mocked, struck in the face, and spat upon. After this He was brought before Pilate, the procurator of Judea, who resolved to order a flogging and crucifixion to quite a restless Jewish mob.
Being stripped of clothing and hands tied to a post, the beating began. This wasn’t just an ordinary whip, this weapon contained several heavy, leather thongs with metal balls and possibly pieces of bone or broken pottery. As each strike hit Jesus’ back, it ripped into His flesh until finally the flesh was falling from His body like ribbons. One particular translation of Isaiah 52:14 states, “Many were appalled at Him, because He was so disfigured that He didn’t even seem human and simply no longer looked like a man.”
Then with a wooden cross, weighing between 75 to 125 pounds, placed upon His back of open wounds, He began the journey, the distance of over six football fields, to the place of Golgotha. Three wrought iron spikes were driven, one in each wrist and one in the feet. The spikes were strategically placed in order to cause more pain as the body would rise and fall in order to breathe. Jesus experienced hours of limitless pain; cycles of twisting, joint-rending cramps; intermittent partial asphyxiation; and searing pain where tissue was torn from His lacerated back as He moved up and down against the rough timber. Then another agony began — a terrible crushing pain deep in the chest as the pericardium slowly filled with serum and began to compress His heart. Then with one last surge of strength, He pressed His torn feet against the nail, straightened His legs, took a deeper breath, and uttered His last cry, “Father! Into thy hands I commit my spirit.” As horrible as this was, I began to think about the emotional pain of the sacrifice He willingly made for all of us. Jesus, who understood the temptations we all face today, never sinned. He never knew the regret, guilt, or shame of a wrong decision or action. But that day, on that cross, I believe He felt the guilt and pain of every sin that man would ever commit. This Man who never caused hurt to another, had to endure the emotional weight of every horrible act that could be inflicted upon another individual. I wonder if the emotional pain was just as difficult, if not more so, than the physical pain he endured. Spiritually, Jesus carried the weight of all the sins of the entire world on His shoulders. He became sin for us and even experienced the feeling of being forsaken by God.
With as many religions as there are in the world today, I’ve never heard of anyone who made a sacrifice as Jesus did. Even if there has been, I know of no one who died and then rose from the dead. Mostly, I’ve never known anyone who had such a love and passion for humankind.
From writing this article, I believe I have found the words that I felt when she spoke, “Just another day,” and that would be sadness. Sadness that she doesn’t know the Man that I do and has never experienced His love. I pray that my next nail visit will find me at a place where I can question more about her belief and have the opportunity to share mine. Hopefully, she too can experience the infinite mercy of God toward us, the miracle of atonement, and the excitement that an Easter morning brings.
By: Donna Clark
