Bitter. There is no other way to describe the cold air along the mile-long walk from my job to the subway station. It was a December evening, and I was finally headed back to my college dorm room after a long day of physical labor, and I was only an “EL” ride and a short walk from home. It was going to be great to be out of the cold. As the train pulled up to the platform, I looked up at the signboard on the lead car. The sign clearly stated that the train was stopping at the station located on the college campus. I settled into a seat by the window, and enjoyed the view as it changed from a dark, blank concrete wall several stories below the city, to a cityscape illuminated by streetlights as the train moved to the elevated tracks some twenty feet above street level. The soft yellow light from the lampposts was reminiscent of the soft glow found in a Thomas Kinkade painting. The swaying and rhythmic bouncing of the train was soothing. I could tell by the landmarks that streaked by that I’d soon be at the campus.
I began preparing to exit at my stop as I had done so many times before. I made the trip so often that I could have been blindfolded and still found my way home. Then I experienced a strange sensation; I imagined that the train wasn’t slowing down enough to stop at the platform. No sooner had I thought it, the train resumed full speed and sped past my stop. It wasn’t my imagination, as there were plenty of people groaning and cussing that our destination was, at that moment, a faint light fading behind us. The train hurtled south into the heart of “The Projects,” a part of the city overrun by gangs, which took turf wars to new levels - low levels. I was heading someplace I would never have planned or expected to be. I began to doubt I had read the sign correctly.
The level of passenger displeasure grew as more and more stations were passed by. The train eventually came to a stop. The only obstacle between my trip home and me was two sets of electrified rails, because the north and southbound train tracks separated the boarding platforms. In order to get home, I needed to get to the other side; but I didn’t have any idea how to get there. I followed the other passengers down a set of stairs I presumed led to the other side. To my horror, the stairs led to the street. I found myself outside the station, cold, confused, and bewildered. As I scanned the unfamiliar surroundings, my head (and heart) stopped when I noticed a large group of angry youths, a stones throw away, warming themselves around a shopping cart filled with burning trash. It didn’t take long for them to notice me.
I hurried back to the station entrance, and found myself behind a fellow student (with a thick foreign accent) begging the attendant to let him back in the station. He attempted to explain what had happened and wanted to get in for free, since he didn’t have any money for the fare. His pleas fell on deaf ears. While he pled, the familiar rumble of an approaching train grew louder and louder, and I was once again caught off guard by what happened next. That guy leapt over the ticket turnstile and bolted up the stairs to the platform for the northbound train. I didn’t waste any time to make my case, as mine was the same as his and he didn’t get anywhere. I jumped the turnstile as well, and followed him without hesitation. The train stopped, the doors opened, I jumped in, and as I sat down for the trip back to campus, the thought “that never should have happened” began playing on a continuous loop in my mind. I still wondered if I misunderstood the sign on that first train. Did I even look at the right sign? Just then I noticed the “gang bangers” from the street filling up the platform, but on the opposite side of the tracks. I guessed they were having sign language problems also.
Bitter. There is no other way to describe what life was like for the Jews in exile or under Roman occupation. They waited and waited for their promised King to establish His kingdom, a place of rest and deliverance. Then the day arrived. Jesus rode into Jerusalem, just as the scriptures had foretold, and the crowds cheered Him as King. All of the signs pointed to Jesus as King! I can only imagine how the Jewish people felt as Jesus rode by; they would soon be home. They would be lifted out of the darkness and would live in the light of freedom. They would soon become the exalted nation as God had promised them long ago. I can only imagine how their hearts were stirred to finally receive the promise.
But then the strangest thing happened. Jesus did not do what they thought he was supposed to do. He challenged the established religious leaders in the temple, not the Roman occupiers. He told the Pharisees to give unto Caesar what was Caesar’s and give unto God what was God’s. He didn’t look like king material. He predicted His own death, He washed His disciple’s feet, He gave them a new interpretation of the Passover meal, and soon after He was delivered over to the Romans for torture and crucifixion. I can only imagine how the people (especially the disciples) were confused and bewildered. They had to have thought that what had happened never should have happened. Did they misunderstand the signs? Did they even look at the right signs? Were there any signs to see? Yes, yes and yes!
Two of the many amazing signs God provided for the people were found above Christ’s head on the cross. The first sign was a crown of thorns that the Roman soldiers pressed and beat onto Jesus’ head. Though the soldiers did this to mock Christ, God used it as a sign of His amazing love and provision, not only for His chosen people, but for all the nations. Then there was the sign that Pilate ordered his soldiers to place over Him, which read “Jesus of Nazareth, King of the Jews.” It was written in Hebrew, Latin, and Greek, so that many people could read it. Yes, Jesus is King, but first, He is the chosen Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world. God had given Abraham a sense of this, (and a prophetic sign for the Jews) many centuries earlier…
God tested Abraham on a mountain in the land of Moriah, asking him to sacrifice his beloved son, Isaac. When God saw that Abraham was ready to do what He had asked, the Lord stopped him, and provided the sacrifice, a ram whose head was caught by the horns in a thicket - a thorny bush. Abraham sacrificed that ram instead of his son, and then named the place, “The Lord Will Provide” (Gen 22:1-19). The sacrificial lamb caught in the thicket was a sign of God’s provision and promise.
John the Baptist announced the arrival of the Lamb when Jesus was baptized at the Jordan River. God also announced it when Jesus entered Jerusalem on the Sunday before Passover (Palm Sunday). That was the day when Jewish families selected the lamb they would sacrifice for the Passover. God had made His choice! Several days later, the spotless Lamb’s head was entangled in the thicket, a crown of thorns - a sign of God’s ultimate provision and delivered promise for all the people to read. The Lord Has Provided!
A strange thing happens when I look at God’s sign language. If I look first for a king, I don’t see a king and I miss the lamb; but if I look first for the Lamb, I find my King! You will too!
Grace to you.
Dave Paukner
