“And when they were come unto a place called Golgotha, that is to say, a place of a skull, they gave him vinegar to drink mingled with gall: and when he had tasted thereof, he would not drink.”
(Matthew 27:33-34)
The place of Christ’s crucifixion was no serene hill or sacred grove but a site of stench, filth, and horror … a skull-shaped hill littered with the rotting bones of condemned men. Golgotha was the trash heap of Jerusalem, and there the Lord of Glory chose to lay down His life. The bitter drink that was offered Him—vinegar mingled with gall—was an added cruelty. And when He tasted it, He refused. He would drink the cup His Father gave Him, but not the numbing potion of man.[1]
The Apostle Paul declared that Christ “made himself of no reputation” and took upon Himself the form of a servant (Phil. 2:7). Every ounce of His suffering confirmed it. He had no cradle but a borrowed manger. He had no bed but the earth. He had no tomb but one lent in mercy. From beginning to end, His was a life poured out, descending even to the vilest place men could devise. Job had his dunghill. Christ had Golgotha.
Here, grace descended lower than misery. He did not suffer indoors, hidden from view, but outside the gates (Heb. 13:12), having been made a public spectacle during the great feast. All eyes saw Him marred, mocked, and made a curse. Every bone out of joint, His tongue cleaving to His jaw, His heart melting within Him. This was the ugliness of sin displayed upon the sinless One.
The Law had commanded the Passover lamb be slain “without the camp” (Deut. 16:5–6), and so the true Lamb fulfilled it. But this Golgotha was not only the fulfillment of Jewish ceremony, it was the altar of redemption. His blood did not just stain the dust of that wretched hill, it sanctified it. Where Adam once turned paradise into death, the second Adam turned a place of skulls into the gate of life. This dunghill, crowned with a cross, became the new Eden, where the tree of life bore fruit again.
To follow Christ is to go out to Him there, to Golgotha, bearing His reproach (Heb. 13:13). Not to seek ease or comfort, but the cross. For though Christ offered Himself once for all, the Christian’s life is a living sacrifice, a continual thanksgiving of soul and body. The ugliness of Golgotha is the beauty of grace, where mercy triumphed over justice and love swallowed the curse.
Contemplations:
- Christ, My Living Mediator. O my blessed Lord, not only are You a Savior to me in Your death, but You are a Mediator to me in Your life. You rejoice over me as the father rejoiced over his prodigal son, or the shepherd his lost sheep that he so long sought in the wilderness, or the lost coin that was found on sweeping the house.
- Seeking Christ Where He Suffered. Do not let me think any place too far, any pains too much, any conditions too low to seek You, Lord. Let me seek You everywhere—in the mountain where You prayed, in the garden where You sweated and bled, in the wilderness where You fasted, but especially here in Golgotha, where You suffered and died (Matt. 27). For it was on Golgotha that You stretched widest Your arms of mercy and pierced deepest Your heart of compassion. If the first Adam turned Paradise into a Golgotha of death and of sin, how graciously have You, the second Adam, turned Golgotha into a Paradise of life and of grace. Here grows that tree of life, which is to say, Your cross. Here flows that river that nourishes the garden of Your church, which is to say, Your blood.
- From Death’s Heap to a Living Sacrifice. Raise me out of the grave of sin, Lord, for it is a Golgotha of rottenness. Seeing You poured out Your blood and breathed out Your soul among these dead, dry stinking bones, make me a sacrifice of sweetest savor to You; and since for me You embraced so much shame, so much pain, so much poverty to die on Golgotha, a loathsome dunghill, do not let me seek ease, glory, or profit, but count all things no better than loss and dung (Phil. 3:8) that I may win Christ Jesus.
Prayer (Adoration)
O Christ of Golgotha, exalted in shame, glorious in humiliation, how unspeakable is thy love! You did not choose a throne but a cross, not honor but reproach, not comfort but agony. There, outside the gates, amid skulls and refuse, You laid down Your life in a display of grace so terrible and beautiful that angels gaze and saints tremble.
We adore You, O Savior, not as one clad in regal splendor, but as the Lamb slain and suspended between heaven and earth. The vinegar and gall could not comfort You. The jeers of men could not distract You. The weight of wrath could not turn You back. You treaded the winepress alone. And in that ugliness of Golgotha—bloodied, bruised, and abandoned—the fullness of divine mercy was displayed, justice was satisfied, and redemption was accomplished.
You were made vile that we might be made pure. You were lifted on a cross of shame that we might sit with You in thrones of glory. We adore You, Redeemer of our souls, for Your condescension and courage, Your blood and obedience, Your death and victory.
Let Golgotha be ever before our eyes. Let its horror humble us, let its grace amaze us, let its power transform us. We bow low beneath that old rugged cross and worship You, our Crucified and Risen Lord.
In Jesus’ wonderful name I pray, Amen.
Further Scripture References for Matthew 27:33–34:
Mark 15:22; John 19:17; Luke 23:33; Matthew 27:48.
[1] “You know what Christ saith, Shall I not drink the Cup that my Father giveth me to drink. That was the Argument of Christ: O that this were in all our thoughts at all times, when any thing, though it be never so grievous, befals us, Shall I not drink the Cup that my Father giveth me to drink? Whatsoever it be, if it comes out of a Fathers hand, why let Him do what seemeth him good.” Jeremiah Burroughs, Four Usefull Discourses Viz.… / by Jer. Burroughs, Early English Books Online (London: Printed for Thomas Parkhurst .., 1675), 86.
