This is the Chancellor's Program. At his homegoing in November 1997, Dr. Bob Jones, Jr. left a legacy of lifelong ministry to students as Chancellor and former President of Bob Jones University. He also left a wealth of recorded sermons which we now present on the Chancellor's Program. Today's message was delivered at an evangelistic service held on the campus January 20, 1970. From the account of the crucifixion of Christ in Matthew 27, Dr. Jones took this message, sitting down they watched him there. Our scripture tonight is found in Matthew's Gospel chapter 27. Matthew chapter 27. I'll begin to read at verse 32. Matthew 27, beginning to read at verse 32. And when they were come unto a place called Golgotha, that is to say, a place of a skull, they gave him vinegar to drink, mingled with gall. And when he had tasted thereof, he would not drink. And they parted his garments, casting lots that it might be fulfilled, which was spoken by the prophet, saying, They parted my garments among them, and upon my vesture did they cast lots. And sitting down, they watched him there. It's been given to some men to be standers by at great events of history, to be onlookers when the clock of time chimes some special hour. The Roman senators stood by, dismayed, or fled in terror when Caesar was assassinated. Napoleon died in lonely exile on St. Helena with only his physician, his jailers, and a few friends with him. But the crowd that gathered outside the walls of Jerusalem to watch the death of Jesus Christ were present at an event marked red with the Savior's blood in the calendar of the ages. It's a strange crowd that gathers there, but it's typical of every crowd that was ever assembled promiscuously anywhere. And strangely enough, each of us can see his own counterpart in that assembly. At this Passover time, Jerusalem was crowded. The city, normally around 50,000, had a population perhaps 150,000, 200,000. Jews had come back to celebrate the Passover, Greeks and barbarians and strangers, those who came to pray upon the pilgrims and to trade with them. They were sleeping in every caravansary and every inn and in the ruins of wrecked buildings and fragments of old walls. And there they are gathered around the cross. It's a strange crowd that gathers there, strange in a number of ways, and yet so typical. And the strange thing to me about the whole occasion is not that they'd hang up a good man to die between two thieves. All too often a fallen race has dealt thus with noble souls of which the race has been unworthy. The strange thing is not the change in popular favor. Just a few days before this one had been hailed as blessed, the one who came in the name of the Lord, and now with shouts of derision they mock his agony. All too often human favor changes with every wind, and the man who's hailed today will be cursed tomorrow. No, the strange thing to me is the blind. Not the blindness of the ruffians and the strangers and the Gentiles, but the blindness particularly of those to whom the prophecies of Israel had been given, that they failed to see the fulfillment of those prophecies under their very gaze that day. To the Roman soldiers standing by with sun gleaming on helmet and polished breastplate, this was simply the execution of a provincial agitator, a stirrer up of sedition. Everywhere Rome went crosses crowned hilltops. This was a sentence that day executed, that day passed. It speaks of the progress and speed of Roman justice. But this one on the cross was no provincial agitator. This was the king of glory dying for the sins of men. And this sentence was not just passed by pile at this day. But from before the foundation of the world, God in counsel had decreed this day. The thoughtless ones in the crowd, most people in the crowd are thoughtless. This was just the end of a man's life, cruel, bloody, brutal, but just an end, nothing more. But this was not the end of his life, because this one on the cross is the everlasting God. He said, no man takes my life from me. I lay it down of myself. that I may take it up again. To the thoughtful ones in the crowd, and there are always a few thoughtful ones, must have come the thought, what a terrible way to pervert the Passover, Israel's most sacred feast, and now because they hate this man, the priests themselves desecrate their own Passover by having Pilate put this man to death. But my friends, this was the Passover. This one on that central cross was the Lamb of God prophesied long ago. And every lamb slain in Goshen was typical of this one who's the Lamb of God. And all the blood on all the Jewish altars shed had like a carpet of crimson marked the way to the cross. And all the smoke of all the sacrificial fire since Abel's rough altar at the gate of Eden gathered in that cloud that in his dying hour hid him from the gaze of God and man. There were some in the throng that loved him. There was Mary, there were the women, there was John, and off in the edge the other disciples who had fled in terror, and perhaps Peter who denied lurking there somewhere on the edge. To those who loved thee must have come this thought. You know, it always will be like this. Love is weak, and hate is strong, and might is right, and tyranny prevails. Poor blind ones, I think they saw least of all. In this hour was love most triumphant, God's love thus giving His Son, a Savior's love, poured out in water and in blood to redeem unto Himself even the very ones who nailed Him to this cross. To the priests, standing in their legalistic fringes and their badges of priestly authority. In this hour of triumph came the victorious shout, silent but vivid nonetheless. He called us blind leaders of the blind. He mocked our power and the common people heard him gladly because he speaks with a strange authority we cannot muster. But we show him who's strong in Israel today. But this man on the cross fulfills every prophecy these priests have taught. And he who is on that cross not only is the conqueror of death, but the one whom nations come to follow. and thousands through the ages proclaim the Messiah of Israel and the Promised One of God. There stands in the crowd a Roman senator, purple-bordered toga falling gracefully about him, a little aloof from the rest, this proud Roman. He looks on the cross and he says, It's necessary that men die, that the Roman peace shall spread around the world. It's unfortunate that carpenter's sons get in the way of Rome. Nevertheless, hail Caesar." Poor foolish Roman. How could he, poor pagan, know that someday, long after Caesar's dust had blown about the southern hills of Rome, that every knee should bow and every tongue confess the lordship of this man to the glory of God his father. Even his dying cry was misunderstood. What a cry that was! My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me? They said, He's delirious. It's a dying man calling for a dead prophet. Let's see if Elias will come and save him. But my friend, this was the cry of God Himself for the first time in all eternity, separated from fellowship with the Father as He was covered by our sins, and God had to look away. His death they regarded as evidence of mere mortality and human weakness. They said, if he'll come down from the cross, we'll believe. When he didn't come down, they said, he can't be Messiah. But my friends, it's because he is God and God loves, he had to stay on that cross. Not the nails and hands and feet, but divine love impaled him there. He could have descended like an avenging angel in their midst, but he could not come down. because he had come to earth to die on this cross. And so they watched. They watched unmoved, a mocking. They watched until God himself turned away his face and threw the veil of darkness about the suffering form of his own son. They watched him there. I've never liked pictures of the crucifixion. I don't believe any man can catch up and canvas the real anguish of Golgotha. And if he could, I don't believe you would find it something you could look upon without becoming physically sick. There's no beauty there. It's not like the crucifix you see with a polished beam and a graceful ivory figure. Not like that at all. My friends, when you look on the cross and behold the scene there as it is, you see human depravity manifest and the awfulness of human sin that it demands such penalty. Isaiah saw him. He looked forward with an eye of prophecy, and he says, he has no form, the comeliness. And when we shall see him, there's no beauty that we should desire him. His visage is so marred, more than any man's. Indeed, he looks like the lamb in the butcher's stall. There he hangs, God's son, naked. before all this evil, godless crowd, naked, the modest Son of God, the One in whose presence fishermen leaped into an ocean to make garments of waves to hide their nakedness from His sight. And now He hangs naked on that cross, His only garment dried blood and crawling flies that settle on His broken flesh. The nails in the hands and the weight of the body have pulled out of joint the bones of the shoulders. There he hangs. The blood from the thorns has run down to mingle with the blood on the face. His eyes are blackened. The soldiers have smitten him in the night, and his flesh hangs in ribbons on his back where the lashes have torn it, and the bones show through. It's hard to believe this is a man on that cross. Indeed, he looks like the beast of sacrifice. Who is this? This is the fairest of the suns of the morning. This is the bright and morning star, the rose of Sharon and the lily of the valley. But the sun is set and the star is dim. The rose is crushed, and the lily is broken, and the glory is departed." They watched him there. I've never understood how men could look on his divine suffering and not cry out for mercy and pardon. It always seemed to me that Golgotha should have been like an old-time camp meeting place, with men begging God's forgiveness all over the place. But there's the record of only one conversion. It's typical of every conversion. If you know the joy of salvation, you've known the same thing that thief knew on that cross beside him. He knew, first of all, he was a sinner and he deserved punishment. For he said to the mocker on the far side, Dost thou not fear God, seeing we are in the same condemnation, and we indeed justly? We receive the due rewards of our deeds. He knew he deserved death. Listen to me, friend. Do you realize what your sin deserved of God? Rebellion against the Most High of Heaven. Sin, filthy and vile. Unclean in thought and word and deed. Altogether vicious and depraved we are. And if God's justice was extended, hell would not be hot enough to pay the price of sin. He knew he was guilty, do you? In the second place, he knew that this one on the central cross could meet his need and save him. For he turned to the Lord and said, Lord, remember me when thou comest into thy kingdom. Say, that's what faith is. just that outpouring of desire and trust that calls upon Christ and knows He will remember. He never forgets His own. He will forget sin when the blood's applied and remember it against us no more forever. But those whom he loves, he loves unto the end. And his memory of his mercy is from everlasting unto everlasting and to children's children. Lord, remember me in the kingdom. But hear the answer. Today shalt thou be with me in paradise. Say, was ever salvation so instant? Was ever mercy so speedy? Was ever grace so swift as this? Not tomorrow in the kingdom, but today in paradise. And God's son swept through pearly gates ajar that day with the soul of a crucified thief in his arms, the first little lamb of all the flock of God. The dying thief rejoiced to see that fountain in his day, and there may I though vile as he wash all my sins away. Dear dying land, thy precious blood shall never lose its power till all the ransomed church of God be saved to sin no more. And every man that knows salvation has received the gift When aware of guilt, he cries in helplessness to Christ. Say, what could he do that thing? A cup of cold water. His own throat was parched. A hand extended to help another. There were nails in his hands. He couldn't pull them off the cross. go somewhere to do good works, his feet were spiked and death loomed in his gaze. It is not by works of righteousness, it's not by water of baptism, it's not by anguish and It's by convicted soul raising its shout to Christ and calling on the name of the Lord. And his cry was, Lord, remember me. See, that thief was the only disciple Jesus had that day. All the others were there somewhere, but they weren't disciples because disciples are followers. Where were they going to find it? This was the end of everything they'd hoped for. This was the utmost reach of every dream. This was the farthest shore to which their thoughts could travel. They'd expected an earthly kingdom, and here they stand in the deep shadow of this rough tree. Where could they find it? They had expected to see him crowned and glorified, and now he's coronated with thorns and enthroned on a cross. There's not one of those disciples that had a gaze of faith to pierce the darkness and see what lay ahead. But that thief did. What a disciple he is! A man unfit for the lowest dungeons of Jerusalem. a murderer, offscouring of the earth, criminal and vicious. And he cries to Jesus, Lord, and he gets a promise of a home in paradise. Say, that's God's mercy operating unto the uttermost and saving him forever. If you are saved, you are saved exactly the same way that thief was saved, not by works of righteousness which we have done, but according to his mercy hath he saved us." They watched him there. Say, if we'd received our due rewards, we would have hung on that cross instead of Jesus. That cross was made for another thief, a man named Barabbas, a murderer and a rebel. But in a definite sense, it was our cross, too. Do you ever stop to think of the tragedy of that cross? God's the God who gives life. All things grow by His command. And He put light in a seed, and the seed fell in the ground, and He sent the rain to water it and the sun to warm it. A little shoot came through the soil one day, The wind blew upon it to make it strong and tall. And by and by, the tree reached up and seemed to grope toward the sky. I've often wondered, did he ever sit under that tree some hot day on a long journey and look up at those branches and say, this is the one? Do you suppose a bird ever built a nest in that tree? That tree could have been so many things. It could have been the mast of a tall ship sailing in service across an ocean. It could have been the rafter of a little home to shelter a family from the snows of winter. But it became a cross. But it's a cross we made. We made it out of the gifts God gave us that could have been turned to His service. But we squandered them in selfishness and sin. That's what made His cross. We made that crown of thorns that go on his brow. We gathered those thorns down on the barren hillsides of our godless hearts, and by our rejection of his kingly claims upon us, we wove the crown and pressed it on a brow that should have worn morning stars. We made the nails that went into his hands and feet. We mined those nails deep down in the dark galleries of our foul imaginings. In the fires of our lust we heated them. On the anvil of our iniquity we hammered out the nails and we drove them into his hands and feet. Oh, what hands those were! Those are hands that never did one selfish thing. Those are the hands that were never lifted in sinful act. Those are the hands that touched the leper that no other hands dared touch and sent him back to fireside and family. That's the hand that knocked on the door of the tomb to say to Lazarus, get up and go back to breakfast with Mary and Martha. Those are the hands that were laid in blessing on the head of little children. Those are the hands we sinners nail to a cross. Say what feet those were. They never took a selfish step. They went where pain dwelt and need abode and loneliness sat in the shadow of a tomb. Those are the feet that knew the sands of Egypt as he fled from Herod's wrath. Those are the feet that toddled about a carpenter shop at Nazareth. Those are feet that walked on the waves one night. And they are the feet that grew bloody as he climbed this hill under the weight of this cross. We nailed him there. We deserve that cross. He took the place of Barabbas, but he took our place too. When he cried, the pangs of hell got hold upon me, he cried what all men who go to hell can cry through endless ages of eternal anguish. Don't ask me how, how in a moment the infinite Son of God could know all that lost souls can know forever, but He did. His separation from God brought all the curse of hell upon Him. He bore our suffering, He bore our sin, He bore our hell. They watched Him there. But they should have watched us there. They watched him there. I'm not surprised that sinners hate the cross. I'm not surprised that Satan tries to turn men's gaze elsewhere. When we see him on the cross, we see him most divine. We see him in the purpose for which he came into the world. He said, for this was I born. For this hour came I into the world. When you see the cross, You see a door open back to God. This is the holy mount where law by which man seeks to climb into fellowship with the Father meets divine grace that reaches down and sets him where he can never climb by a ladder of law. This is the holy mount of a heavenly kingdom. His blood's the leitmotif of a heavenly song. It's the boast of all the redeemed. You see the babe in the manger, sights appealing, lovely, all the light of all the childhood of all the ages in his face in the manger. There's no salvation in the babe in the manger. You see the good teacher, you marvel at the wisdom of his words, the kindness of his glance, but there's no salvation in the good teacher. You see the good physician healing, But there's no healing of the soul in the hand of a good physician. It's the Lamb of God that takes away the sin of the world, and without the shedding of blood there's no remission. They cried, come down from the cross. That cry was begun by the priests and echoed by the rabble. It's the same two classes that raise that cry today, infidel preachers and low and foul sinners. They say, we don't want any slaughterhouse religion, we don't want any gospel of blood. My friend, without the blood there is no gospel, for this is the gospel. He died for our sins according to the Scripture. He was buried, He rose again the third day according to the Scripture. Nobody says, come away from the manger, beautiful babe, or down from the hillside, great teacher, or apart from the needy, good physician. But they still say, come down from the cross. But my friend, until you see Jesus on the cross, you do not see Him in the fullness of His deity. And nowhere is He so glorified as when in death He does the Father's will. And the whole nature of God is manifest. God's hatred of sin that Jesus Christ, who knew no sin, must be so dealt with because He is sin here. And God's love so apparent that He who hates sin is willing to become our sin and suffer our judgment. and bear our hail, that he may clasp us poor sinners to his breast, and share with us his glory." They watched him there. Ah, there's life in the look. There's victorious life in the continuing look. There's eternal joy in the long look. They watched him there. When I survey the wondrous cross on which the Prince of Glory died, My richest gain I count but loss, And poor contempt on all my pride. See from his head, his hands, his feet, Sorrow and love flow mingle down. Did e'er such love and sorrow meet or thorns compose so rich a crown. His dying crimson like a robe spreads o'er his body on the tree. Then I'm dead to all the globe, and all the globe is dead to me. Were the whole realm of nature mine, that were a present far too small, love so amazing, so divine, demands my soul, my life, my all. shall have my soul, my life, my all." Let us pray. Heads are bowed. I hope hearts are bowed. I never preach on the crucifixion without such a sense of inadequacy. Who can depict His suffering? Who can describe His mercy? Who can demonstrate His love? But this was for you. We are purchased not with corruptible things, not with silver and gold, but with the precious blood of the Lord Jesus. And the Apostle says, I beseech you therefore, brethren, by the mercies of God, that you present your bodies a living sacrifice, wholly acceptable unto God, which is a reasonable service. With such awful anguish he purchased you, Christian. With such complete mercy and such sufficient sacrifice, he saves you. What do you owe him? Something? A little bit? Most? A good ale? How much did he give? All. What does he have a right to expect of us? All. Nothing held back. Someone has said, there's no surrender till there's complete surrender. And love that isn't as great as the love that is offered, it's a shame to give in return. We can't love like He loved. But all we have of love, of service, of self, of will, he's entitled to. Does he have it? Our Heavenly Father, we praise Thee for Thy love, Thy mercy, Thy grace, Thy salvation. If there be one here that's a stranger to Thy grace, who's never known the joy of Thy salvation, the richness of Thy presence, may he not leave this place until he finds in Thee all that the soul needs and the only thing that satisfies the life. And for those who know Thee, we pray in this closing moment a special anointing from on high that we shall in these days ahead this semester reflect our love in every relationship of life and in every breath we breathe. You've heard a message by Dr. Bob Jones, Jr., who during the latter part of his life served as Chancellor of Bob Jones University. Dr. Jones delivered this message, sitting down they watched him there, January 22, 1970. If you'd like a cassette copy, send six dollars to the campus store, Bob Jones University, Greenville, South Carolina, 29614. Listen each week at this time for the Chancellor's Program, sponsored by Bob Jones University.