THANKFUL

The scourging he endured was not in vain; his wounds brought us physical and spiritual healing —Isaiah 53:5 (King Jimmy Translation).

 

The Massage

“Don’t Worry. I’ve Got Your Back”

(Part three of four)

Sweet & Sour finished his rhythmic thumping on my legs. Standing would be impossible on these spaghetti legs. His talented hands moved up to my lower back.

Maybe he’ll use some of those warm rocks on my back to draw out the tension. Or maybe organically-grown cucumbers. Worse-case scenario: he’d throw two stray cats on my back to duke it out.

He needed none of those. My back remained aggregate-free, vegetable-free, and feline-free as his strong hands manipulating the muscle tensions away.

“Why is my back is always sore? I play golf twice a week for exercise.”

Humph! Sweet & Sour grunted.

My arms hung limp. Here it is! I finally found my comfy spot. Why didn’t he start on my back to begin with?

Jesus and I continued our chat. Since you live in my hunka-hunka burning-love body, are you enjoying this back massage, too? When was the last time you had a back massage?

Re-rax, Jimmy, the Lord mused. Let me tell you about the last time someone massaged my back.

I’m all ears, Lord. I felt the Lord had another message for me.

As you know, Judas betrayed me. I knew he would. When I washed the disciples’ feet that night, I washed his, too.

 

How could you do that, Lord, knowing how he was selling you down the river? Couldn’t you have given him an ingrown toenail or a fungus? Anything?

Oh, I gave Judas something, all right, the Lord said. Forgiveness. But, that’s my grace. When the Romans sentenced me to crucifixion, Judas thought he’d gone beyond forgiveness—but he hadn’t. My forgiveness waited for his taking, but Satan blinded him and convinced him otherwise.

Wow! I received a new revelation about Jesus. I never realized that, Lord.

Before my crucifixion, that flip-flopping Roman governor, Pontius Pilate, had me scourged. This is where my back massage came into play.

Scourging was horrific. Sweet & Sour may have felt my body shutter. I’ve read articles about those whips they used—lead balls woven into the straps and bone spurs attached on the end. Each lash left contusions and ripped flesh. Oh, Lord . . .

My human side –my soul—was distressed, knowing what lay ahead, but my spirit knew I must go through this ordeal, because it was my Father’s will that I offer myself as the sacrifice for the sins of the world, even for those who hated me. That’s why I came into the world.

Sweet and Sour rapid but gentle blows soothed my back, not like the lead-weighted whip that left wounds on Jesus’ back.

The Lord continued. As the Roman soldier was about to scourge me, I told him, ‘You may think you’re scourging me, but I am actually taking your punishment so you can be forgiven and have freedom.

Wow! I raised my head, stunned. What’d he say?

“Yu okay?” Sweet & Sour asked.

“I’m fine, buddy. Sorry” I rested my head again.

The Lord continued. He didn’t know what to say. No one ever said that to him before he scourged them. When I told him I forgave him, Jesus continued, he looked at me with disbelief. ‘Who are you?’ was all he could say. He thought I was delusional and didn’t know what he was about to do.

‘You’re doing what my servant Isaiah prophesized what you would do over six hundred years ago,’ I told him. ‘Do what you have to do. I forgive you.

Again, this revelation left me dumbstruck. With each blow, I would have cursed him, his mother, his father, every sibling, even every pet he had from a goldfish to a gerbil, and all his ancestry. I would have cried out to the Father how unfairly I was treated, how this punishment was unjust, especially since my perfect behavior never wavered. As I dwelt on this false sense of righteousness, Jesus hit me with a slam-dunk statement.

What makes you different from the Roman soldier? Your sins did the same thing to me.

Wait a minute, Lord! I felt slammed to the concrete. I follow you, I live for you. You know I love you, Jesus.

I know you love me, Jimmy. The Lord reassured me. But you lash my back when your pride convinces you that you are a self-made man. You whip my back when you believe you create your blessings. Your prejudice make more lashes.

Stop, Lord! I became uncomfortable as to where the Lord was leading.

Your lies create more scars on my back. You have no idea how many stripes you leave with your complaining. When you spend more time seeking pleasure and material stuff than seeking me and my kingdom, you lay more wounds upon me.

While Sweet & Sour massaged my back, the Lord massaged the hardened parts of my heart.

But the cruelest wounds you lash on me is when you harbor unforgiveness. I took your wounds so your mind and soul could be healed of these past, present and future sins against me. The Roman soldier may have scourged me but your hand held the whip.

Oh, Lord! Forgive me. That’s all I could say to this new revelation.

Have I ever asked you to do anything I’ve never done?

No, Lord, you haven’t.

The revelation that my sins added to the severity of my Savior’s scourging ripped my heart. Jesus never cursed me, or threatened to get even. He never complained how my proxy scourging of him was unfair. He bore the brunt of punishment so that sin’s power over me was broken. As I lay on my stomach, teary eyes led to streams running down my cheeks.

“Yu aw-right?” Sweet and Sour asked. “Hit too hard? I hut yu?”

“No, you’re fine.” I said. “I just realized how badly I hurt someone I love.”

Stay close to Jesus.

Jimmy Eskew © 2017

 

P.S. “Yu pay golf tu times week?

“Yep, try to.”

“Yu no try hit 1-iron when pay golf. Bak no hut.”

(Continued)