I Killed Jesus

I am a murderer. But I am not some petty third-degree killer. I have commited perhaps the most heinous crime in history. Such a crime that deserves swift and harsh punishment. Capital punishment.

Who did I kill? you ask. A prominent citizen perhaps? A politician? Maybe even the leader of a nation? No. Those are insignifigant in comparison with what I have done. I killed a man named Jesus Christ. Have you heard of him? Many haven't. I must confess I didn't know him either until just recently.

"Ironic," you say, "why would I kill a man I don't even know?"

Ironic...perhaps. But it is true.

I had heard the name before. Actually I had heard it quite often. Usually it was only used to express anger or shock though. I still never knew who he was exactly. A good man, I suppose. But aside from that who was he? I didn't know.

One day I discovered who he was. I can't explain the sensation I experienced as the realization of what I had done slowly washed over me.

Tears stung my eyes and my chest felt tight. This man I had killed, Jesus Christ, the Son of God, had intended to save me. The focus of his entire lifetime was to die so that I wouldn't. With that action he valued my own life above his own. It was because of me that he died.

And he did die...

I killed him!

No. I didn't physically drive nails into his flesh. Nor did I pierce his side with a spear.

It was God's plan that his Son, Jesus Christ, be delivered into the hands of sinners to be killed. Killed so that the very ones who killed him might not have to die if they so chose.

That was God's plan. No, I didn't nail his hands and feet to a cross. But think of it like this: It was his mission to die on Earth for our sins.

Now if, by chance, there were no other sinners and I was the only one, who would have to kill him?

If you were the only sinner in the world, who would kill Jesus?

Me and you.

As I realize this, a pain strikes deep within my heart. The phrase "we killed Jesus" is one that I have heard many times and each time I simply brush it off and say, "Yes, he died for our sins."

But now it feels more personal.

Its not just a story that happened thousands of years ago on the other side of the world.

The Pharisees didn't kill him. The Romans didn't kill him. The cross didn't kill him. I killed him.

I killed Jesus.

But it is because of his death and resurrection that it doesn't end at that.

I am a murderer. I deserve death.

But God is a merciful and loving God. So I recieve life.

"For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life. For God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world, but to save the world through him."

-John 3:16,17