Cruel to Be Cool

7 min read

17 They put a purple robe on him, then twisted together a crown of thorns and set it on him. 18 And they began to call out to him, “Hail, king of the Jews!” 19 Again and again they struck him on the head with a staff and spit on him. Falling on their knees, they paid homage to him.

—Mark 15:17-19

The cruelty of the Roman soldiers is horrifying. But I have to confess that I have done some cruel things in my own life—not to the degree of the Roman soldiers, but cruel nonetheless.

I am not by nature a bully, but I have bullied people simply to be part of the “cool” crowd. I remember when I was in eighth grade, my classmates were particularly cruel toward this one kid. One time, I made a projectile by rolling up a small square of paper and folding it in half, and then I shot it at him with a rubber band at point blank. In my adolescent brain, I was sure that this act of cruelty would earn me “cool” points.

It was the most evil, horrifying thing I have ever done to another human being, and I am still remorseful for my action even to this day. I actually tried to reach out to this brother on Facebook to tell him I’m sorry, but I got no response.

As I got older, my insane need to belong (really, a fear of rejection) went with me, and I acted “cruelly” toward “unpopular” people because of it. I would join in making fun of them and talking trash about them both behind their backs and in front of an audience. I would join in excluding people from invitations to “cool” events. I would join in speaking in the “secret” lingo around them so that they would know that they were excluded. I would quickly join in mocking them if they said or did anything that was “uncool.”

I have been on the receiving end of cruelty too. I have felt the sting of how vicious, cold, and inconsiderate people can be—even people who consider themselves to be Christians, even people who are my friends.

What Jesus experienced in the palace that day is the representation of what we have all done to one another and continue to do to one another each and every day in varying degrees. And if we do nothing to stop these acts of cruelty, we are actually condoning it, in a way.

The targets of such cruelty cannot defend themselves. If they tried, the cruelty would just intensify. So these acts of cruelty have a way of building up like a snowball rolling downhill.

But Jesus, the Son of God, is not like any other target of bullying and cruelty. Jesus, the Son of God, could most surely have defended Himself. With a word, the soldiers, Pilate, the Jewish authorities, Rome, could all have been swept away by legions of angels.

But to defend Himself against such cruelty, He would have had to sweep away all of humanity, similar to how God brought the flood in the days of Noah.

So Jesus, the Son of God, did the only thing that could be done to bring justice to all the cruelty of humanity without actually destroying all of humanity. Jesus, the Son of God, received all the cruelty of the world on the cross and was sacrificed on the altar of love to atone for all the sins of all humanity—past, present, and future—once and for all.

Once again I look upon the cross where You died. I’m humbled by Your mercy, and I’m broken inside. Once again, I thank You. Once again, I pour out my life. But what is any sacrifice I pour out to You compared to what You have done for me, Lord. You are worthy of all glory, honor, and praise. May I have the power to not treat others cruelly, to stand up for targets of cruelty, and especially to forgive others for their cruelty toward me. In Jesus’s precious name. Amen.