I love to imagine what Jesus looks like. I love to think of Him in different aspects; envision Him doing and being what the Bible says about Him.
For example, I love C.S. Lewis’ imagery of Jesus as Aslan – the Lion of the Tribe of Judah. (Revelation 5:5) Fierce. Dominating. Forcefully putting His paw down and roaring so loudly that He shakes everything around Him. As I see Him as the Lion of Judah, I feel protected. Safe. I sense my enemies trembling at His presence. I see them running as He roars.
I love to think of Him riding on His white horse at the Second Coming. (Revelation 19:11-16) Bold. Strong. Courageous. The Conquering King. Thundering from heaven with fire blazing from His eyes as His hair flows in the wind. Leading the charge to silence the enemy once and for all. Defeating him by His word. (wow. I faint right there.)
I love to think of Him seated at the right hand of Abba Father. (Colossians 1 and 3) The position of honor. The position of authority. Magnificent, He is the radiance of the glory of God. Holding creation together. And as He overlooks all of creation, we see His heart as He intercedes for us. Pleading our case, asking Abba Father to move and work on our behalf.
I love to think of Jesus preparing a place for me. (John 14:1-3) Creating a room for me. Preparing a place for me at the table. Anticipating my arrival. Excitedly expecting me to join Him. To see the sheer, unreserved joy I feel as I finally see Him face-to-face. As I leap into His arms. As I encounter brilliant beauty that I could never have imagined. As He takes me to see Abba Father. To watch me finally experience all that I was created for.
To think of Jesus in these ways draws me into His magnificence and splendor. Opens my eyes to how incredibly exquisite He is. I catch glimpses of how beautiful He really is.
But of all the things I imagine – all the ways I picture Him – there is nothing more beautiful to me than the crucified Jesus. (John 19) The gruesome Jesus. The one with flesh hanging off His bones. Blood running down His face. Streaming down His body. Hair matted with dirt and blood. Bruised. Whipped and beaten Jesus. Grimacing in pain. Crying out to God in agony. With spit on His face. A hole in His side. Nail pierced feet and hands.
I love this image of Jesus more than any other because it is in this, that Jesus set me free. Paying a price to redeem me from an utterly hopeless situation. Buying me from slavery. Releasing me from a prison I was powerless to escape. I am no longer a slave. I am no longer bound. Limited. Restricted.
Because He willingly suffered and died for me, allowing Himself to be savagely beaten, abused, ridiculed, humiliated and tortured, I am healed – spirit, soul and body. My blinded eyes opened. My oppressed heart set free. My wounds healed, whole. Missing parts restored. I am made new. No scars. Just as if I had never been damaged. Broken. Enslaved. Imprisoned.
In agony, He carried the weight of my crushing sin. Wiping away my past. Eliminating my depravity. Wickedness. Choosing to forget. Choosing to release. Choosing to look at me with love.
His brutal death defeated a foe that I was no match for. Completely disarming my enemy. Destroying his works. Stepping on his neck. Breaking his hold. Conquering for me. Giving me victory.
The cross He carried bridged the chasm between Abba and me. I am no long separated from Him. No longer an orphan. Adopted by Him. An heir with full benefits and privileges.
And it is through the magnificent gore of the cross that I can see the beauty of Him now. Because I have seen Him crucified, I can see Him as the Lion of Judah. I see Him riding His white horse. Seated next to Abba Father. Feel Him making intercession for me. Know that He is preparing my place. Eagerly anticipating my arrival.
Nothing is more beautiful to me than Jesus crucified because it opens my eyes to see everything He is.