Day Thirty
“For to this you have been called, because Christ also suffered for you, leaving you an example, so that you should follow in his steps.
‘He committed no sin,
and no deceit was found in his mouth.’
When he was abused, he did not return abuse; when he suffered, he did not threaten; but he entrusted himself to the one who judges justly. He himself bore our sins in his body on the cross, so that, free from sins, we might live for righteousness; by his wounds you have been healed.”—1 Peter 2:21-24 (NRSV)
Throughout our 40-day Lenten journey we reflect on the wounds of Christ, on the price that was paid so that our sin might no longer stand in the way of an intimate friendship with God. The wounds of Christ testify to his love, witness to his sacrifice, and proclaim his saving grace to a fallen, broken world. We do well to reflect on his wounds.
But Thomas à Kempis, the 15th century priest who wrote The Imitation of Christ, one of the most popular devotional works ever published, suggests that there is an invitation that comes to us regarding Christ’s wounds that involves more than seasonal contemplation and reflection:
“If you cannot contemplate high and heavenly things, rest your thoughts on Christ’s Passion, and dwell freely on his Sacred Wounds. If you go for refuge to Jesus’s Wounds and to the precious marks of his Passion with humility and love, you will feel great comfort in troubled times, you will not be too concerned about what other people think of you, and it will not be hard to put up with the humiliating things that they may say about you.”—Thomas à Kempis, The Imitation of Christ
These are words that speak to where we make our spiritual home in times of difficulty, and Thomas makes it clear that it is the wounds of Christ which are our refuge. Some translations literally say, “Rest in Christ’s Passion and live willingly in his holy wounds.” It is an image of taking up residence, of establishing where we center our lives. We are invited to make the wounds of Jesus our dwelling place.
It is reminiscent of Paul’s words describing his own ministry in the city of Corinth:
“For I decided to know nothing among you except Jesus Christ, and him crucified.”—1 Corinthians 2:2 (NRSV)
It was the Passion of Jesus upon which Paul centered his teaching, knowing that it was the message of the cross that alone had the power to save. It was also the defining image of his inner life, as he said in Philippians:
“I want to know Christ and the power of his resurrection and the sharing of his sufferings by becoming like him in his death, if somehow I may attain the resurrection from the dead.”—Philippians 3:10 (NRSV)
To “become like Christ in his death” is to take refuge in his wounds, a dying to ourselves so profound that we are defined not by our actions but Christ’s. It is a reorienting of our sense of self—living each moment in the awareness of God’s sacrificial love, knowing who we are, whose we are, and the great price that was paid for our salvation. As Thomas à Kempis wrote, that knowledge enables us to find comfort in seasons of difficulty, and to erect a buffer of God’s truth in the face of the world’s lies.
Taking refuge in the wounds of Jesus also provides strength in the face of temptation. As we live out of our awareness that Jesus bled and died so that we might be forgiven, we are humbled and brought over and over again to the knowledge that apart from him we can do nothing. The anonymous 17th century writer of “Dignare me, O Jesu, rogo te” reminds us of this truth in today’s hymn, translated by Sir Henry Williams Baker in 1861:
If the world or Satan lay
Tempting snares about my way,
I am safe when I abide
In thy heart and wounded side.
We are safe when we abide in the heart and the wounds of Christ. As we seek to know him in this profound way, we echo the cry of Charles Spurgeon:
Thy wounds, oh Jesus! Thy wounds; these are my refuge in my trouble.
Oh sinner, may you be helped to believe in his wounds!
They cannot fail; Christ's wounds must heal those that put their trust in him.
As you make your way to Jerusalem, may you find a refuge in his heart and wounded side.
Jesu, grant me this, I pray,
ever in thy heart to stay;
let me evermore abide
hidden in thy wounded side.
Read the rest of the lyrics here.
Questions for Reflection:
1) How do you understand the difference between reflecting on the wounds of Jesus and “dwelling in” them?
2) Spend some time reflecting on these words from Matthew Henry:
Christ's wounds are thy healings,
His agonies thy repose,
His conflicts thy conquests,
His groans thy songs,
His pains thine ease,
His shame thy glory,
His death thy life,
His sufferings thy salvation.
Is there any one of those that speaks more personally to you than others? What about it grabs you?
3) How might you incorporate the invitation to find refuge in Christ’s wounds into your spiritual formation journey after the Lenten journey is finished? What practices or disciplines might be helpful in that?
4) Read and reflect on this verse. Let it lead you into prayerful worship and gratitude:
“Now if we have died with Christ, we believe that we will also live with him.”—Romans 6:8 (ESV)