But His Deity dreaded taking my place. He wanted to, don't get me wrong. He did it willingly out of love we can never comprehend. But He was perfect. Sinless. Spotless and pure. And in order to take my place He had to bear my sin.
All of the filth of everything I've ever done or even thought of doing. Every bit of evil that came to me through my lineage of sin. And the shame. Shame that drives people to desperation at times. He wore it. He hung there on the cross, naked and exposed, arms spread wide. No way to cover Himself. No way to hide. And it wasn't His skin that shamed Him. It was my sin. He hung there wearing it and all the shame and God looked at Him and was so disgusted He had to turn away. Jesus was forsaken for me. Forsaken by His own nature, even...for me.
God cannot abide sin. Can't tolerate it. That's the whole point. So Jesus was forsaken so that I could be embraced. Because Jesus wore my garment of filth, I now wear His garment of Righteousness. When God looks at the cross, He sees me. When God looks at me, He sees Jesus!
I don't think we will ever fully understand the sacrifice. It wasn't just about beatings and thorns and nails. Thousands of men have been crucified. Thousands of men have died unjustly. But what made this sacrifice so great was the pain of Purity and Absolute Holiness dripping with the slime and sludge of sins He never committed. The shame.
And you know what? When we cling to that shame, when we just can't let ourselves off the hook for something, we are calling His sacrifice worthless. We are saying that it wasn't enough. Christ have mercy.