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A WALL OF SOUND

Have you ever had the experience of looking out the window, and you can almost feel the footsteps of Lucifer’s army marching up to your house? Here they come. Some killer temptation is heading right toward you, and you can just plain tell, from the pounding of the feet and the clanking of armor and nuclear weapons, almost, that there’s no chance. How can you possibly go up against this army? And before you know it, an envious thought, or a cigarette, or a slice of pornography, or an X-rated curse lands on the floor at your feet. Defeated again . . . and how could it possibly have turned out otherwise?

There’s a sobering line found in God’s Word that maybe you’ve never noticed before. I admit it hadn’t hit me either, and boy, it goes right to this scenario of the advancing troops. Ironically, it’s from one of the most well-known stories in the entire Bible. You can search it out for yourself in any of the four Gospels, but let’s get it from Luke, because that’s where the killer soundbite is to be found. Chapter 23, and on a desperate Friday morning Jesus is standing trial before Pilate.

Why don’t we back up a bit and paint the picture as it appears here on Court TV? Thursday evening, as we all recall from the stenographer’s report, one Jesus Christ of Nazareth was arrested in Gethsemane. He appeared before Caiaphas, the high priest, and also Annas, Caiaphas’ father-in-law, and a formal meeting of the Sanhedrin – in the dark of midnight – but, of course, they don’t have the official authority to put anyone to death. And these men are thirsty for a capital conviction. Even though Jesus finally confesses what they want to hear, that He IS the Son of God, soon to appear in the clouds of heaven – a statement they obviously regard as blasphemy – they don’t control their own electric chair. So, first thing in the morning, after a lot of perjury, mockery, and spitting in faces, Jesus goes into the witness box before Pontius Pilate, the Roman governor of Judea. History tells us he occupied the Arnold Schwarzenegger mansion for about a ten-year term, from 26 A.D. down to about 36.

So Jesus is brought in for questioning, but except for admitting that He is “King of the Jews,” the interrogation is inconclusive. Now, only Luke records that Pilate decides to pass the buck. He tells the crowd, “I find no basis for a charge against this man,” and the ringleaders protest:

“He stirs up the people all over Judea by His teaching. He started in Galilee and has come all the way here.”

Now as soon as Pilate hears the word “Galilee,” he sees his out right there. “Oh, well, in that case, this isn’t even my province,” he retorts. “Let Herod have a crack at Him.” Herod being the tetrarch of Galilee. Unfortunately for Governor Pilate, Jesus says nothing when Herod gives Him the third degree, taunting Him and trying to get Jesus to perform a miracle or light some fireworks. After some more jeers and pokes and spitting, the Prisoner is brought back in handcuffs to Pilate’s courtroom.

And now the drama begins. The priests and rulers are honestly afraid this whole thing is going to slip away from them. After all, Pontius Pilate has already said he thinks Jesus is innocent. “There’s no basis for a charge”; that statement is already on the record. What’s more, Pilate now gets handed a note from his wife, basically saying: “Honey, leave that Man alone. He’s innocent! I had a dream about Him, and it’s got me all unsettled. Please . . . just recuse yourself. Announce a delay in the proceedings; hit the fire alarm; do something.”

Well, let’s skip down. Pilate tries to ask Jesus some questions, and even has a thought-provoking moment when he wonders aloud: “What is truth?” The more he hears from this quiet, gentle Prisoner, the more he realizes that Jesus Christ of Nazareth is an innocent Man . . . and maybe much more.

You remember how he finally goes to the balcony, and makes the crowd an offer. “I can either grant clemency to this Jesus Christ – who says He’s your king – or, if you like, if you’re completely off your collective rockers, I can release mass murderer and insurrectionist and child pornographer and general chief-of-sinners Barabbas.” Translators tell us that “Barabbas,” in Aramaic, literally meant “son of the father.” “Abba” meaning father. So the crowd could either have this generic, desperately wicked “son of the father,” or they could choose to release Jesus Christ, who truly WAS “Son of the Father.” To Pilate’s utter amazement, the crowd begins shrieking and waving banners and posters: “Barabbas! Barabbas! Give me a B! Give me an A!” And the scene is just wild.

Then Pilate, in his desperation, makes a tactical mistake. He’s already said: “Not guilty. No basis for a charge.” In fact, he announces this AGAIN to the crowd. “Listen,” he cries out, “Herod didn’t find anything wrong with Him, and neither do I.” But then his poise cracks a bit and he announces:

“Therefore, I will punish Him and then release Him.”

Which, of course, makes no sense. If Jesus is innocent, why should He be punished at all? And in that venue – Judea of 31 A.D. – punishment was the nearly fatal 39 lashes. “Scourging,” they called it, and many an inmate escaped the cross by simply dying right there on the rack instead. But now the crowd is really up for it. Because if Pilate is so weak that he’s willing to allow an innocent victim to be whipped within an inch of his life, then maybe he’ll cave in the rest of the way. They’re this close.

So now the shouts begin in earnest. “Crucify Him! Crucify Him! Crucify Him!” The priests are yelling it. The religious leaders are shaking their fists in the air, all in unison. Parents and kids and onlookers and lookie-loos. They’re all in one voice now, and it’s a fearsome thing to hear.

If you’ve ever heard the Broadway opera – and please don’t take this illustration as in any way giving the performance a “thumbs up,” but Jesus Christ Superstar, for its many flaws and mistakes, does capture powerfully, they tell me, the raw, soul-shredding power of this angry mob. The shouts and cries are in full stereo – “Crucify Him! Crucify Him!” – and then the orchestra takes it up a notch. Up one key, and add ten decibels. Louder. Stronger. With more determination. And you can just mingle in things like: “If you let this Man go, you are no friend of Caesar’s!” “Don’t forget, elections are next November – and we’ve all got long memories!” Things like that. But above it all is this wall of sound, crying out for the cross and the nails.

And now in Luke 23:23 we find four shattering words that should give every believer pause. First of all, this description:

“But with loud shouts they insistently demanded that He be crucified.”

And then, as Lucifer’ army marches into that courtroom, as the hosts of hell descend upon the scene, as every eye turns to gaze on this quaking, fearful, vacillating governor – who is concerned for his job, his reputation, his wife, his LIFE – we find four more chilling words:

“And their shouts prevailed.”

That’s it. They shouted . . . and their shouts prevailed. Their shouts won the war. The walls of courage, the citadels of conviction, were all decimated. This man who should have said no, who could have secured for himself a place of historic bravery and character, instead called for a basin of water. “It’s not my fault,” he manages to say to the bloodthirsty throng. “You take Him; You nail Him to a tree. I give.”

One writer, with a bit of nineteenth-century flavor to her essay, describes the pivotal scene with these words:

“Like the bellowing of wild beasts came the answer of the mob, ‘Release unto us Barabbas!’ Louder and louder swelled the cry, Barabbas! Barabbas! . . . ‘What shall I do then with Jesus which is called Christ?’ Pilate asked.” And get this terrifying metaphor: “Again the surging multitude roared like demons. Demons themselves, in human form, were in the crowd, and what could be expected but the answer, ‘Let Him be crucified’?”

I recall a line from Christian writer Roy Adams’ great book, The Nature of Christ, where he paints a similar scene from the night before. Satan came after Jesus personally that evening, and Adams conjectures with this word image:

“The struggle in the Garden of Gethsemane represented the final, titanic showdown of Christ’s earthly ministry. Recognizing that the game was almost over, the devil pulled out all the stops. That night, the entire attention of the hosts of hell was focused on one place and one place only – the Garden of Gethsemane. Athens was free of devils that evening, I think. And so also were Rome and Corinth and Ephesus and all the cities, towns, and hamlets of the world.”

A million . . . to one. This is our focus this week, friend. How is it all Lucifer’s legions failed against Jesus, and yet the shouts of the enemy prevail against us? What chance have we got against the devil?

The answer is none . . . unless the victorious veteran of Gethsemane comes out of the tomb and helps us.