The Church of Eleven22 - Passion Service 2024

Episode Date: March 27, 2024

Lead me to the cross Where Your love poured out - The Church of Eleven22® is a movement for all people to discover and deepen a relationship with Jesus Christ. Eleven22 is led by Pastor Joby Martin and based in Jacksonville, Florida, with multiple campuses throughout Jacksonville and the surrounding areas. To find out more about how God is moving at Eleven22, go to coe22.com

Good evening and welcome to our passion service. We want to take some time tonight to still our hearts, to calm our minds, to stop thinking about whatever we just left at work or whatever is after this, and maybe most importantly to not let our cell phone pull our attention for the next few minutes. We want to go back to the old city of Jerusalem. back to that night before Jesus was crucified, back to those hours just before the author of life was put to death. That night Jesus gathered with his disciples, with his friends,

in a room that had been prepared for them. And he instituted the sacrament of communion. He gathered his friends around that Passover meal. and he began to walk them through what was going to take place through that meal, which is exactly how we're going to start tonight. The Apostle Paul wrote to his friends in the book of 1st Corinthians in chapter 11, and he says, For I receive from the Lord what I also delivered to you,

that the Lord Jesus on the night when he was betrayed took bread. And when he had given thanks, he broke it and said, this is my body, which is for you. Do this in remembrance of me. Take a minute to open up your communion to pull the bread out and hold it in your hand. And I want you to think about what the prophet Isaiah said. As Jesus says, this is my body broken for you. The prophet Isaiah said that he was marred beyond recognition.

And let's just take a moment. hold that bread in your hand, and let's think about what Christ did in his body for us. He said, this is my body broken for you. Let's take the bread and remember the body of Jesus broken for us. The Apostle Paul continues. In the same way, also he took the cup after supper saying, This cup is the new covenant in my blood. Do this as often as you drink it in remembrance of the,

me. For as often as you eat this bread and drink this cup, you proclaim the Lord's death until he comes. Take your cup and let's think about the author of Hebrews who tells us without the shedding of blood. There is no forgiveness of sins and let's take a minute as we hold the cup to think about the blood that was shed for us. Let's drink together the cup of the new covenant. Let's pray. Father, we thank you. we thank you that you were perfectly obedient. You came to live the life that none of us could live perfectly obedient in every way to the law, but not only to the law, also to the heart of the Father.

And then you died the death that we all deserve in our place. Your body was broken. Your blood was poured out on that cross as you pulled. up, you said, it is finished. And you fully and finally satisfied the wrath of the Father so that we would know nothing but the good heart of God for all of eternity. I pray tonight that you help us to sit in this moment, to think about the cross, to think about you, to remember and to rejoice because you are good.

It's in Jesus' name we pray. Amen. Would you stand and worship with us? I canna here they're a manoe and a-o-o-hand-o-hand-o-hamey. How, d'amnach, shimshay, al-tawe, and the macket,

the kane, and al-a-awal and, the other, the family that mackwil the chan, manna agra, et the chon. There,

ha'ap, ma'a'a'a'a'a-a-dean, and in shan, And in shalitun by shalem myr Dachy-kun, Manna yattir aouditun, La ha, upmachse, he hade,

Odean, wa'ha chel tun gimere, a canna d'awo'houn, and I was born, my father named me Simon, and he taught me how to be a fisherman on the Sea of Gallery, like he was, and I was father,

before that. And that was all I knew how to do was fish, men nets, take the day's catch, back to the market, and bid for the highest price. That was my entire life. I was until I met Jesus. And I'll never forget the first day I saw him, he came up to me, and he looked into my eyes, and he said, follow me. And I did. And not a few weeks later, we're on the hills north of the Sea of Galilee, surrounded by thousands of people. Everybody wanted to be close to Jesus.

They were holding on to every single word that he was saying. And what he was saying was something that I have never heard. It was as if he really knew who God was. And that by following him, it would change your life, the way you lived your life. And that God was a loving father and that he was closer to us than we could ever imagine. And at the Passover meal, I remember it. Since I was a boy, it was always the same. It was the lamb and the bread and the herbs and the wine.

But then Jesus started making these connections. The bread, the wine, the bread, his body, the wine, his blood, his body, his blood. After the Passover meal, we were so excited. Our hearts were filled with joy. We left the city. We're going to the Garden of Gassimity. And as we were going, Jesus confided in me and told me something terrible was going to happen. And I told him, Jesus, I will never let that happen.

I will never forsake you. I will never leave you. And he said, you will deny me three times before the sun comes up. Well, at the garden, I have never seen Jesus like that. He was filled with so much sorrow. He was sorrowful. He asked us to pray with him, and we did, but I fell asleep. And I remember falling asleep, and he was asking his father to take a cup from him.

And I don't know what cup he was talking about. I fell asleep. And then I was awakened by Jesus touching my shoulder, and he told me, it's time. and I looked over his shoulder and I saw a mob of people coming towards us and Judas was leading that mob and when that mob approached us

Jesus stood between us and the mob and he told Judas hello friend do what you have to do and Judas said greetings rabbi and he kissed him on his cheek and right then a man in the mob moved towards Jesus

and I pulled a knife from my belt and I attacked that man. I cut off his ear. And right then, Jesus kneeled down next to that man, picked up his ear, placed it on his head, and he was healed. And I'm thinking, Jesus, why? Why? These men, this mob, they are our enemies.

They want us gone or in prison or dead. And Judas. Judas is a traitor. Not hours ago you washed his feet. And they arrested him and took him to the high priest. And I watched while they accused him of crimes. And I'm thinking again, Jesus, Jesus, respond. Do something. Do something.

While I'm watching Jesus, I was accused of being with him three times. And I denied it every single time. And on the third time, Jesus turned his head and our eyes met. He knew. Jesus knew. And now he's in front of Pilot. And Pilot has given the mob a choice to free a man named Barabbas or Jesus.

A murderer or Jesus who gives life to those who are dead. A criminal or the son of God. Barabbas or Jesus? Barabbas or Jesus? Barabbas or Jesus? We're the day that we're our men we're going to come on the one of the men the men,

unless you're the packack, deemina, a p'nale a-a-khan. And you're not as far as d'none of your and to ch'olkutin'nch shw'w'l'n'rotho'at. As, amma,

t'em, t'n, I was sure of you Howlin'is And man sawed nizap from you, La Tachleyu I was a visitor in Jerusalem that day I had made the long journey with my family

By sea along the coast of North Africa From my hometown, Cyrene, to celebrate the Passover feast. This wasn't the first time we had done it. We had been celebrating God's liberation of Israel from the hands of the Egyptians for years by making the pilgrimage. For some reason, we saw ourselves as a part of their story, the story of Yahweh acting to set his people free.

It had become our own story. Yahweh, the one true God, the God of Moses, the one who hears the cries of his oppressed children and acts on their behalf. We had made the decision to build our family around his laws and commandments. from afar, but it only seemed right to go to the temple to be a part of everything during the festival. There were rumors of insurrection going throughout the city, which wasn't uncommon, but these were different. These all centered around one man, a Nazarene named Jesus. The word Messiah was being tossed around, which didn't sit well with the Romans. People telling outrageous stories about them. Less about politics and malicious and more about well, miracles.

Lepers leaving leper colonies and blind eyes being open. Some even say they saw them feed over 10,000 people with a couple of loaves of bread and a few fish up near Galilee. It piqued my curiosity. Everyone knew what the Romans did with these people. Any threat to Caesar was dealt with swiftly to be made an example out of to keep the peace. to keep the peace. What they did with these people was in humane. I'll never forget.

When I saw him coming around the corner, what they had done to him, they had beaten him to within an inch of his life, you could see the bones from his rib cage exposed from the deep cuts. He was a dead man walking. See, the Romans, they developed this form of torture. They honed it to perfection throughout the years.

They fashioned a whip made out of nine leather strips, each a few feet long. Attached to it were heavy lead balls. They covered it with shards of glass, stones and bones that were sharp as nails. They would take the criminal, strip them down, and chain them to a stone whipping post in the center of the Roman court complex. They would tie their wrist above their head, exposing their bare skin. The soldier would reel back unleashing the force of the whip on the criminal. The soldiers, man, they lived for this.

Any pent-up anger they had would be taken out on the criminal. The heavy lead balls would beat the criminal skin, like a butcher's hammer. The shards of glass and stone would attack. to attach itself to the flesh like lion's claws. When the soldier pulled away, whatever it attached itself to would tear along with it. The skin didn't stand a chance. It was like paper. This went on.

One blow. After another. When one soldier got tired, he passed the whip along to the neck to ensure nothing let up on the criminal. To them? it was like a competition. Who can inflict the most damage? They got so good at this, they discovered how many lashes someone could take before dying. 39 lashes, 40 was too many.

That's what they had done with. Beating them to a bloody pulp. They were parading them around the city with the cross. They were going to hang them on his back. carrying his own death sentence around. His knees were buckling every couple of steps. They were shouting obscenities and spitting on him. He was bleeding so bad he left the trail down the center of the street.

I couldn't take my eyes off Jesus of Nazareth. I stood there speechless as he stumbled up the street towards where I stood, amazed at the strength he was showing after the beating. And knowing what was ahead? He fell over right in front. of me, the weight of the cross on top of him. There he lay, a pile of bloody flesh. When he hit the ground, the crowd exploded with laughter.

The soldiers didn't. It annoyed them. They had a schedule to keep. One of them grabbed me by the arm, pushed me in front of him, pointed at the cross and shouted in my face, pick it up. I didn't want anything to do with him. I didn't want anything to do with any of it. It was too ugly.

It was too brutal. I'm ashamed to say. But I didn't want his blood to stain my clothes. But I had no choice. He stood over top of me until I moved. I pushed the cross off Jesus' body and kneeled to where he was. He turned his head towards me. I couldn't understand it.

But I could see gratitude in his eyes. It was like, like he was thankful that I was there. It made no sense. As he made his way from the ground to his hands and knees, I hoisted the weight of his cross on my back. The soldier that pulled me from the ground pushed him in front of me. We started to walk together slowly.

I followed in his shadow. My feet shuffled through the trail of blood. He got there first. He had some sort of strength. Something I didn't have. By the time we reached the hill, my knees gave out. I let the cross hit the ground. He would have to take it from here.

He started it. He would finish it. I tried to disappear and blend it with the rest of the crowd, but I couldn't. I was a mess. My clothes were stained and blood smeared all over my face. I tried to wipe it off, but it only made things worse. I would have. was marked. The soldiers stripped him naked in front of the crowd that had followed us out of the city.

It was pitiful. He was pitiful. He swayed back and forth, shifting his weight, trying to stay on his feet. As the soldiers got things ready to kill him. The other soldiers were gambling for his clothes. As I stood there in the crowd, I began to realize. Jesus had nothing left on this earth. No money, no home. not even a tunic, he was about to die with nothing left to show for it except for a few weeping souls who were there for him. What he was about to do, Jesus was about to do alone. Arama Toe here the Eilene The kappen

Woshen the Kenufa Dhingon Nisbun Thouyehoun Lamarachman Ande there, Nhoun

Rakhme. T'w'ihan the ailin t'en to themhun Nogun the Allaha Toeh

The only the day shlama, the nawood on her, no one the third in mottul, Kenutha, Dill on he malcoota

Dishmaya. For the day he was born, I held thousands of years of fulfilled promises in my arms when he was younger. The older women in Nazareth used to sigh and say,

Take it in, Mary, it goes so fast. I didn't believe them, but they were right. I watched as he grew taller, stronger, wiser. I smiled as he made friends in our village. I treasured it all every moment in the deepest parts of my heart. I blinked, and he was a young man with words so powerful, and yet so loving.

I was there the day he spoke to the crowds by the sea. I knew that what he was saying was going to change things, change hearts. We could all sense it. Thousands of us. His words were as unique as I knew him to be. They were an invitation into a new way of living. They were full of lights and life.

But I had no idea. how my Jesus would put his own flesh and blood behind every word he spoke on that hill are the poor in spirit I watched as the soldiers pinned his naked body on that splintry wooden beam already stained with his own blood everything inside me revolted against it through my tears I shouted no tell me what is he done where is justice but he didn't fight and spread it

his arms open wide as if to embrace the very ones who were about to kill him. The soldiers who had berated him all the way out of the city, they moved into position over him as they laid him down on the cross. He was so tattered, so bruised, so crushed. And yet I saw a mysterious resolve in his eyes as one of the soldiers positioned the spike to the inside of his wrist. And he lifted the hammer. My heart began to race.

I clenched my eyes shut as it dropped. The sound of metal and cracking bone ricocheted off the rocks on Galgotha's hill around us. I heard him shriek how I had seen him handle physical pain as a child, a bruised knee, a splinter in his hand. How he would run to me. How I would move to ease his discomfort. but there was no comforting to be done. The response of the gather mob

elevated around him. Go on, they shouted. Save yourself. Beautiful wrist after the other. His hands, the hands that had once offered healing, were now bald in a tight fist as his nerves caved around the metal spikes.

And his feet, this beautiful feet the ones that had brought such good news to the world now they were ripped and torn pierced right through the middle he screamed as they did it to him I can't begin to describe the anguish I felt in my heart

as I heard the sounds coming from him the soldiers they hoisted to the cross-up from the ground with a violent jerk. When they did, gravity pulled the weight of his body down, only to be supported by the spikes they were holding him there. His blood ran down the beam of the cross. It poured out of him, spilling to the ground everywhere.

Precious lifeblood. Wasted all around him. He hung there, completely defenseless. the crown they had put on his head the one the soldiers accustomed made to mock him its thorn sunk deeper into a skull as he turned his head to the side shifting his eyes upward he groaned in agony as he gasped for breath

I heard his voice lovely words from the outflow of a broken heart Father forgive them for they know not what they do. Some jeered and mocked him for it. I stood, dumbfounded. How could someone be so completely emptied of so much and yet so full of mercy at the same time? But that was my son. That was Jesus. I had seen him do it from the time he was a little boy. I thought the same voice that had drifted

down the mountain over the crowds and the sea bringing righteousness and peace not that long ago now shuddered and cracked as the cruelty of the cross brushed over him and he could change it all in a second i couldn't comprehend his constraint or the meek he looked at me it was more than i could take My knees buckled under the weight of his gaze. John caught me as I fell to the ground. I heard his voice again, laboring so heavily, speaking to woman. Behold your son.

And then to John as he held me there, behold, your mother. Couldn't imagine how in the middle of this hell that my son would want to comfort me in my morning. What kind of compassion is this? I wanted so badly to bring comfort to him. He was the suffering one. He was the one deserving of compassion.

Powerless. I could do nothing to help. His body was so tortured, so beaten, hanging there for hours exposed. He was nearly a little. unrecognizable. The purity of his love. Complete, full love. It was undeniably him. He asked for a drink. One of the soldiers sneered and grabbed a sponge he had used to clean himself after defecating and splashed it in the vinegar he carried on his side. He held it up to his lips on the end of a reed.

The mob searched again. drink it they shouted the soldier turned to the crowd and said ask and it shall be given to you o king he didn't drink it he refused in silent protest

his breathing began to slow it was as if nature itself was recoiling in response to his suffering the well of his physical strength he used to push himself on the spikes in his hands and feet to fill his lungs, was reaching an end. His joints and sinews had seen enough. I watched. The vitality drift from his eyes. I was so lost in sorrow and despair. I want him to go. He still got my hand towards cheese side,

carrying the weight of the entire world on his fragile frame. How could this happen? But possibly come from this? Where was Yahweh? He had to be crushed like this. He had the most beautiful spirit I had ever experienced. There was no one as lovely. No one I loved. More, I heard him speak.

His last words, it is finished. Abba, I am in your hands. He was so weak, I could scarcely hear him. But I knew what he said. And then his head swung downward, lifeless. The song that I had sung the night, the angel came and told me that he was growing in my womb. The night the world changed.

He has looked on me in my humble estate. He has shown strength in his arm. He has scattered the proud and brought down the mighty, the hungry. Oh my Jesus, I didn't know. How could I know how you would do it? You were persecuted for the sake of righteousness. My righteousness, the whole world. The violence that was unleashed on your body,

the spear that pierced your side. Too high a cost to pay for making peace. Much too high a price to pay.