Last night, Teresa and I watched the movie, “The Passion of the Christ.” This was only the second time we have watched this particular theatrical presentation of the crucifixion of our Lord. The first time was in 2004, shortly after the movie was released and was being shown in theaters across the country. Teresa and I went to see it with a group from our church. We traveled the 25 miles to the theater in our church van, laughing, talking, enjoying one another’s company as we made the trip. Upon our arrival we went into the theater, made ourselves comfortable in the nice, cushioned seats, and readied ourselves for the movie to begin.

At least I thought we were “ready”. Physically present? Yes. Chattering as the pre-showing ads ran on the screen? Yes. Still enjoying each other’s company? Yes. All was well as we enjoyed the comfort of the modern theater, and the company of our friends.

The movie began, and we watched as scene after scene was depicted on the large movie screen before us. As the movie progressed, I felt as if the screen was somehow getting larger and larger, and beginning to press in on me. I felt overwhelmed by the graphic depiction of the savagery of the soldiers as they hit and punched Jesus after arresting Him in the garden. I felt anger well up in me as the religious leaders were shown to be cold, callused, calculating, in their appeal for Jesus to be executed. I had to literally close my eyes to shut out the horrific scourging He was given. I actually felt nauseated as the scene of Him being nailed to the cross was shown, again in grotesque detail. I was in a state of stunned silence. I felt as if I needed to scream, but could not.

The movie finally ended. Not a sound was heard in the theater. No one spoke. The only sound I heard was that of crying, even after the movie had ended, and the credits had run. Silence, except for the crying.

We made our way back to the church van without a word. We all were seated, doors were closed, engine was started, van was moving. Silence. Twenty-five miles back to the church. We all sat in stunned silence. Not a single, solitary word was spoken. We arrived back at the church. No cordial “Good-byes” or “See you later.” We all made our way back to our vehicles and drove away. I later told Teresa that I would never watch it again. And I did not – until last night.

So why did I watch it again after saying that I would not? To be honest and completely transparent, it was only because Teresa wanted to see it again. Twenty-two years after watching it the first time, we sat and watched it again. And again – silence. No words were spoken between us. Once again I had to close my eyes several times to shut it out. It was too much to bear.

And yet, Jesus bore it all. He went through every moment of it, because it had to be done. And He was the only One who could do it. I have been preaching the Gospel of Jesus Christ for over 45 years, I have preached many, many sermons on the crucifixion. I have tried, in many of those sermons, to give a verbal description of what His crucifixion might have “looked like.” But to see it displayed in such horrible, graphic detail on a huge screen right in front of me – well, that gave it a whole new meaning.

So, now I’ve watched it a second time. And once again I said to Teresa, “I will never watch that again.” I think I really mean it this time. I thought I meant it the first time, and yet, here I am, the day after watching, and saying it once again.

But, let me close by saying it does put things in a different perspective. It does cause us to think seriously about all He did for us. And it does make us so much more appreciative for Jesus’ willingness to go through all He did to secure our salvation. So this morning, I sit here typing these words with the scenes of the movie still playing in my head, and with every different scene, I have to say, “Thank you Jesus, for loving me so!”

Blessings!