Isaiah 50:6. I gave my back to the smiters, and my checks to them that plucked off the hair: I hid not my face from shame and spitting.
Now let me go back a little, and read again the third verse, "I clothe the heavens with blackness, and I make sackcloth their covering." "I gave my back to the smiters, and my checks to them that plucked off the hair." It is the same divine Person, who musters the hosts of heaven till the very skies are blackened with the artillery of God, who here says, "I gave my back to the smiters, bowing down to the brutal Roman scourge, and my cheeks to them that plucked off the hair." You remember the scene that I pictured last Sunday night, the whole band of soldiers mocking Christ, and even spitting upon him. That was the fulfillment of these words, "I hid not my face front shame and spitting." That same Christ, without whom was not anything made that was made, whose face is the sun of heaven, whose glory is matchless and unsearchable, says, "I hid not my face from shame and spitting." Do not say, then, that God has no love to you. Do not say that he has cast you away as a husband divorces his wife. Talk no more as if there were no help for you, no means of your deliverance. Behold how low your Saviour stooped, how gracious he was to suffer so much for guilty men, and be encouraged to trust him. He who gave his back to the smiters says to you, "The chastisement of your peace was upon me, and with my stripes you are healed."
Isaiah 50:6. I gave my back to the smiters, and my checks to them that plucked off the hair: I hid not my face from shame and spitting.
Now let me go back a little, and read again the third verse, "I clothe the heavens with blackness, and I make sackcloth their covering." "I gave my back to the smiters, and my checks to them that plucked off the hair." It is the same divine Person, who musters the hosts of heaven till the very skies are blackened with the artillery of God, who here says, "I gave my back to the smiters, bowing down to the brutal Roman scourge, and my cheeks to them that plucked off the hair." You remember the scene that I pictured last Sunday night, the whole band of soldiers mocking Christ, and even spitting upon him. That was the fulfillment of these words, "I hid not my face front shame and spitting." That same Christ, without whom was not anything made that was made, whose face is the sun of heaven, whose glory is matchless and unsearchable, says, "I hid not my face from shame and spitting." Do not say, then, that God has no love to you. Do not say that he has cast you away as a husband divorces his wife. Talk no more as if there were no help for you, no means of your deliverance. Behold how low your Saviour stooped, how gracious he was to suffer so much for guilty men, and be encouraged to trust him. He who gave his back to the smiters says to you, "The chastisement of your peace was upon me, and with my stripes you are healed."