John Stott
I could never myself believe
in God, if it were not for the cross. The only God I believe in is the
one Nietzsche ridiculed as “God on the Cross.” In the real world of
pain, how could one worship a God who was immune to it? I have entered
many Buddhist temples and stood respectfully before the statue of
Buddha, his legs crossed, arms folded, eyes closed, the ghost of a smile
playing round his mouth, a remote look on his face, detached from the
agonies of the world. But each time after a while I have had to turn
away. And in imagination I have turned instead to that lonely, twisted,
tortured figure on the cross, nails through hands and feet, back
lacerated, limbs wrenched, brow bleeding from thorn-pricks, mouth dry
and intolerably thirsty, plunged in God-forsaken darkness. That is the
God for me! He laid aside his immunity to pain. He entered our world of
flesh and blood, tears and death. He suffered for us.
Source: Bread and Wine
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