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Jesus willingly died so we could live. He chose to die in our place for love. We see multiple moments in the Hebrew Scriptures that prefigure the exchange of Jesus’s death. In the first chapter of John’s Gospel, John the Baptist sees his cousin Jesus and declares, “Behold, the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world!” (John 1:29). To us, this claim makes little sense. We understand calling someone “the GOAT” but not “the Lamb”! But John’s first Jewish hearers would have understood. The first time God used a lamb to save his people was at the very start of their story. Abraham and Sarah were old and childless. But God promised to make Abraham into a great nation, and eventually Sarah gave birth to their son, Isaac. Some years later, God speaks these devastating words to Abraham: “Take your son, your only son Isaac, whom you love, and go to the land of Moriah, and offer him there as a burnt offering on one of the mountains of which I shall tell you” (Gen. 22:2). We can only imagine what is going through Abraham’s head. No doubt, Abraham experienced true love for Isaac: his son, his only son, whom he loved. But he trusted that God would provide a lamb somehow. When they get to the mountain, Abraham sets up the sacrifice. He binds his son and lays him on the wood. Abraham lays Isaac on the woodpile and lifts the knife. But suddenly, the angel of the Lord calls out: “Do not lay your hand on the boy or do anything to him, for now I know that you fear God, seeing you have not withheld your son, your only son, from me” (Gen. 22:12). When Abraham looked up, he saw a ram caught in a thicket by its horns. He took the ram and sacrificed it to God instead. What was the point of all of this? Did God not know that Abraham trusted him? The point was not for Abraham, but for us. We see a father who intensely loves his son but who is willing to give him up. We see God providing a substitute, so that God’s people, embodied in Isaac, could live. We see God sparing Abraham’s son—his only son, whom he loved—while setting the stage for not sparing his own beloved Son. We see the Bible’s first depiction of the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world.
Jesus was not a victim. He was a volunteer. On the cross, he willingly took God’s wrath towards sin upon himself so that he could take away the sin of the world. His dread was not of crucifixion in itself, but of God’s wrath. Crucifixion was a slow-burn death. Its victims hung for hours to be mocked by humans, pecked by birds, and gradually asphyxiated. Nails through wrists and ankles tore their flesh as they raised themselves up to gasp for breath. Speaking while being crucified was hard. But there was time. So much excruciating time. Jesus made a stunning promise to a criminal crucified next to him: “Today you will be with me in paradise” (Luke 23:43). He also talked with his mother and with the author of John’s Gospel (John 19:26). But the most moving conversation Jesus had while being crucified was with his Father. Luke tells us that even as the soldiers were nailing him to the cross, Jesus prayed, “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do” (Luke 23:34). But Matthew records these more troubling words: “‘Eli, Eli, lema sabachthani?’ that is, ‘My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?’” (Matt. 27:46). Even the language of these words is poignant.
Jesus lived a perfect, sinless life, and then died a love-soaked death. Jesus, in his utter innocence, faced crucifixion for you and me—and for the criminal on the nextdoor cross, who put his trust in Jesus with his final breath. He is the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world. And he’ll take our sin too, if we will only put our trust in him.
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