<TITLE>24. Par 83-85</TITLE>L-83 So one day when they had Him... Let's take a little drama as we close. It's a terrible day. The sun looks funny. There never was a day like that, never will be. Oh, it's a horrible thing. The debt from Eden has to be paid: horrible day. And we begin to notice early in the morning. We're standing upstairs. I hear a noise. Let's go raise the shade and look. Coming down the street I hear something going, "bump, bump, bump." What is it? It's an old rugged cross.
I see a little woman run out in front of them, saying, "What has He done? What has He done but preach the Gospel? What has He done but heal the sick?"
I see a rough hand smack her in the mouth and say, "Set down. Would you people believe that woman prostitute before you'd believe your priest?"
She couldn't speak her piece. His time had to come for something else, the cross dragging up. He had a robe over His shoulders.

L-84 As He starts up the hill, I notice little bitty red spots all over His coat. Wonder what they are? His little weak body, a crown of thorns on His head, mockery spit hanging all over His face, what had He done to deserve that? That's the penalty He was paying for me, for you.
Look at them little spots. Let's watch them a minute. As He drags on up, His little body's frailly, and them whipping Him, and making Him go on, He's pulling this big old cross up the hill. After while I notice all these little bitty spots begin to get bigger, bigger. After while they all run into one great big spot. I hear it splashing against His leg. He's going down. He's getting weaker and weaker.
I can see everything. His disciples gone; who's standing by Him? Nobody, forsaken by God and man. Here He goes up the hill.

L-85 Then I see death walk up and say, "Ah-ha. I got Him. I've proved that He isn't God. I've tempted Him. I took out there... If He'd have been God, He'd have turned them stones to bread. How could He stood there in that yard, and let them soldiers spit in His face, and put a rag around His face, and tell Him to tell who hit Him. Why, if He'd have been God, He'd have knowed that. I know He isn't God." He never did believe it.
As He goes up the hill, I see that bee of death come out, go to buzzing around Him, sting Him--to sting Him, humming around Him. The first thing you know, it begins to wonder. What was it? Death was coming around, a buzzer, like an insect, a bee.
But you know what? If a bee ever anchors his stinger deep, he pulls his stinger out. He can't sting no more. He had anchored it in many a prophet; he'd anchored it in many a righteous man. But that time, when he anchored it in God, he pulled his stinger out. Death lost its stinger.
No wonder one coming later, said, "Oh, death, where is your stinger? Grave, where is your victory? Thanks be to God." When he anchored that stinger of death in Emmanuel's body, it pulled the stinger out.
And today we can walk in the face of death. And the bee can buzz and make a noise, but it never will fright us. No, sir. He has no stinger. The sting has been gone. Why? Death met God. And when it met God, it took the sting out of death. I'm glad to meet Him. Aren't you glad? Let us pray.


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