Day By Day On The Cross Part 1

The Crown, the Beatings, and the Stripes

As we reflect on Holy Week, it’s easy to think of the cross in broad strokes: the nails, the tomb, the resurrection. But when you really pause and consider the day-by-day suffering of Jesus, the price He paid becomes deeply personal. It wasn’t just a moment in history—it was a moment for you and me.

Let’s take a closer, more clinical look at just some of what Jesus endured.

The Crown of Thorns

This wasn’t your average patch of blackberry thorns that might scratch up your arm on a hike. No—these were long, vicious thorns, some 4 to 6 inches in length. Roman soldiers wove them into a crude crown and shoved it onto Jesus’ head. Not gently. They took a rod and beat it down, driving those spikes deep into His scalp.

The thorns pierced through flesh and nerves, causing migraine-level pain with every jab. Not a single poke—but dozens, maybe more. Each one triggering searing neurological pain that shot through His face and neck.

We complain—and rightly so—about one migraine. We reach for pills. We rest in dark rooms.

Jesus had none of that.

He suffered every puncture wound with no relief. No medicine. No comfort. Just agony.

Thank you, Father, for sending Your Son to stand in our place.

The Beating to His Face

The next part is almost harder to think about.

Jesus was beaten so severely His own mother wouldn’t have recognized Him.

They blindfolded Him, mocked Him, and took turns pummeling His face with fists. These weren’t drunk street brawlers—these were trained Roman soldiers, men who specialized in torture. They knew exactly how to inflict pain without killing their target too quickly.

They yanked out His beard by the handful.

They crushed His face with fists and laughed: “Come on, prophet—tell us who hit you this time!”

His jaw was likely dislocated. His teeth, knocked loose. Cheekbones shattered. Eyes swollen shut. Cuts so deep you could see the bone beneath. The crown of thorns had already begun to swell His head, and now the blows added to the trauma. Sinus cavities collapsed under the repeated strikes.

“He was bruised for our iniquities. The chastisement of our peace was upon Him…”

The Stripes on His Back

The scourging was brutal, more than most can fathom.

Jesus was tied to a scourging post, wrists bound, body stretched so that His back tightened and His shoulders flared outward. Knees off the ground. Vulnerable. Exposed.

The weapon? Not a cowboy’s leather whip. This was the cat of nine tails.

Nine separate strands—each one embedded with jagged pottery shards, fragments of bone, and metal balls to deliver crushing impact. Before use, the whip was dipped in blood, likely from a goat or lamb, so it would stick to the victim’s flesh on contact.

Then came the lashes.

Each strike would wrap around His body. Flesh stuck to the whip. And when the soldier pulled it back, it ripped away skin and muscle, tearing deep into the tissue, exposing ribs, tearing at nerves, maybe even puncturing internal organs.

He was lashed again and again.

His back became an unrecognizable mess—like raw hamburger, blood-soaked and open to infection. Every breath became a struggle.

And He took it. For you. For me.

“By His stripes we are healed.”

If we could only truly picture what Jesus endured, maybe we would better understand the power of that healing, the depth of that love, and the price of our freedom.

This is just part of the journey. But already, we see a Savior who didn’t just die for us—He suffered for us. Physically. Emotionally. Spiritually.

And He did it willingly.

Stay tuned for Part 2, where we’ll look deeper into the shame, the mockery, and the agony of the cross itself. Until then, let these truths settle in your spirit.

There is no sin too great, no sickness too deep, no burden too heavy that He didn’t carry to the cross.

It. Is. Finished.