At the foot of the cross

I blogged a few days ago about my visit to the Picasso exhibition that’s running at Tate Britain in London. Each room explored Picasso’s influence on a modern British artist, one of whom is Francis Bacon. I’m not a huge fan of Bacon’s work, so was scanning the paintings quite quickly – until I came across one that literally made me recoil with a shudder. I hated it. It was a triptych – the three paintings displayed side by side – each as horrible as the next.

Intrigued to know why I’d reacted so strongly, I went closer to read the blurb, and discovered that the three images were of people at the foot of the cross. That explained my revulsion. Bacon had cleverly taken the hate, spite, cruelty and self-righteousness of those who had crucified Jesus and were now watching, perhaps even gloating, as He died. “Yes”, I thought, “that’s the sick, evil rejection of God’s King”. And I felt the same revulsion for those wicked people that I had felt for the paintings.

And then I paused. Because it was my sin that held Jesus on the cross, just as much as theirs. The revulsion I felt is a slight glimpse of how we should respond to all sin – not just the obvious, the cruel, the violent – but all my “little” sins as well. The truth is that I have rejected God’s King every bit as much as those jeering onlookers. And it is only through His loving death for me that I now have the privilege of knowing Him as my Lord and Saviour. So now I’m really pleased that I hated Bacon’s work so much. Because through it I have been reminded of the blackness of my own heart, and the wonderful forgiveness made possible, and offered freely, by the one who died and rose again.