And they clothed him in a purple cloak, and twisting together a crown of thorns, they put it on him. (Mark 15:17 ESV)>
Shortly after my third birthday I was playing in the front yard of the small house my parents rented. As I pushed this small toy truck along at a three-year-old’s pace I ran straight through a large rose bush. To this day I still bare the scar on my arm from the deep cut. Because thorns hurt. They cut. And they cut deep.
Christ’s cruel tormentors took sadistic pleasure in fashioning their instrument of agony out of thorns and thrusting it upon his brow. I can only truly imagine how horrible it must have been as the sharp points gouged his skin and scraped along the thin covering of the human skull.
Though he was crowned in mockery and brutality—Jesus was a king. Jesus is a King. He is The King. And in him, you and I find adoption into royalty. We find a calling away that lifts us above our own inadequacies, insecurities, and frailties. Jesus bore that crown of thorns so that we might wear a crown of peace.