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After a long night of betrayal, arrest, and unjust trials, Jesus stood beaten and bloodied before the Roman governor, Pontius Pilate. Though Pilate found no fault in Him, he still subjected Jesus to a brutal scourging, hoping to satisfy the bloodthirsty crowd. John 19:1–5 captures the scene vividly: “Then Pilate therefore took Jesus, and scourged him. And the soldiers platted a crown of thorns, and put it on his head… Pilate saith unto them, Behold the man!” What a moment—divinity clothed in wounds, majesty covered in mockery.

The scourging alone was nearly fatal. Roman whips were embedded with bone and metal, designed to rip flesh from bone. Isaiah had prophesied of this moment: “His visage was so marred more than any man, and his form more than the sons of men” (Isaiah 52:14). His body was disfigured, His strength drained, and yet He uttered no resistance. As the soldiers spat on Him, struck Him, and mocked Him with a reed scepter and thorny crown, the Creator of the universe stood silently, absorbing the wrath of men to soon absorb the wrath of God.

The image of Christ in this condition should break us. “Behold the man,” Pilate said—and so we must. Behold Him, not just in pity, but in worship. This was the price of our redemption. He bore our griefs, carried our sorrows, and took the punishment that we deserved. Every blow He endured was a blow meant for us. Every drop of blood shed was the ink that signed our pardon. This was not just the suffering of a man—it was the suffering of the Lamb of God, willingly laying Himself down for the sheep.

Let us never grow numb to the suffering of our Savior. The cross was not just a historical event—it was a personal act of love. Behold the Man, crowned with thorns, that you might wear a crown of life. Behold the Man, mocked and rejected, so you might be accepted and redeemed. Behold the Man, beaten and scorned, that your soul might be healed. As we journey through this holy week, may our hearts break with repentance, burn with gratitude, and bow in awe. He suffered not because He had to—but because He loved us enough to.