“He was…a man of sorrows, and familiar with suffering.”

If we take the text literally, not even Mel Gibson’s The Passion of the Christ — as intense as that film is — captures the essence of what happened.  In his crowning masterpiece of messianic prophecy, Isaiah in chapter 53 described the sufferings of Christ in such vivid and specific detail that many Jews over the centuries thought it was part of the New Testament when it was read to them.  Isaiah began, “…his appearance was so disfigured beyond that of any man and his form marred beyond human likeness” that “many were appalled at him” (52:14).  Have we ever seen a film that adequately captures such sorrow and agony?  Not yet; probably never.  But sorrow frequently goes much deeper than just physical distress.

When one suffers physically, it is difficult not to be hurt in additional ways.  If the pain comes from persecution, one may be suffer emotionally.  If a friend betrays another, it’s easy to feel the sting and stab of such a relational wound.   Christ endured all of this to the n^th degree.

In 53:3 Isaiah calls the Messiah a “man of sorrows.”  The word sorrows is commonly linked to physical pain, but not exclusively.  Numerous times it is tied to something more difficult.  We find it in chapter 65, where Isaiah wrote of the contrast between obedient Jews, called “my servants,” and rebellious Jews.  Beginning in verse thirteen he writes, “My servants will eat, but you will go hungry; my servants will drink, but you will go thirsty; my servants will rejoice, but you will be put to shame.  My servants will sing out of the joy of their hearts, but you will cry out from anguish of heart and wail in brokenness of spirit.”  That “anguish of heart” and “brokenness of spirit” is what sorrow means — a broken heart.

I personally believe that while on the earth Jesus was a man’s man: passionate about all he did.  If he weren’t, it is hard to understand what this verse means.  How could he have a broken heart if he was only here doing his duty?  How could he be disaffected if he weren’t emotionally involved in the first place?  But the fact is that he was totally involved in everything he did then and does now.  And what he experienced as the man of sorrows proves that.

Another way we see his emotion is his tireless effort securing his Bride, the Church.  Psalm 45 is a messianic psalm about the coming wedding between Bride and Groom.  In it we see wedding preparations.  Of the bride it says, “All glorious is the princess within her chamber, her gown is interwoven with gold.  In embroidered garments she is lead to the king; her virgin companions follow her and are brought to you.  They are lead in with joy and gladness; they enter the palace of the king” (vs. 13-15).  Of the groom: “You are the most excellent of men and your lips have been anointed with grace” (v. 2), “your robes are fragrant with myrrh and aloes and cassia…the music of the strings makes you glad (v. 8), and “therefore God, your God, has set you above your companions by anointing you with the oil of joy” (v. 7).  Why is he “above [his] companions”?  Because he is the groom.  This is his day.  And the oil of joy — what is that?  There is no literal oil that brings joy and gladness.  It is the occasion of blessing — the wedding — that is the oil.  But it is the joy, the passion of it, that’s the point.  Jesus is passionate about all that he does.

So why is it, then, that Jesus is the “man of sorrows”?  What causes his sorrow?  The opening of Isaiah 53:3 tells us: “He was despised and rejected by men.”  That’s all?  People didn’t accept him, didn’t acknowledge who he was?  Was he oversensitive or lacking in self-esteem and just couldn’t handle rejection?  Absolutely not!  Not even close.  His sorrow had nothing to do with an issue within himself.  It had everything to do with unbelievers’ rejection of him, their only salvation, a decision that sealed their eternal destiny. That is what brought him such great sorrow, that he would die for them and they would still reject him.  And it hurt him…deeply, very deeply to the bottom of his eternal heart, for their sake, not his.

We find another thing in verse four: Jesus “carried our sorrows.”  Same word.  He carried our sorrows — all the emotional hurts and baggage and damage — to his cross, where he also took our sins.  Talk about weight!  I have seen so many Christians still dragging around all their useless emotional pain, when Jesus offers us emotional freedom and victory along with forgiveness, justification and reconciliation.  Are you walking in the delight of your emotional freedom and victory today?  Do others see it in you?