WE ARE BULLIES

Mark 15:16-20

¹⁶ And the soldiers led him away inside the palace (in other words, the Praetorium), and they called together the whole cohort. ¹⁷ And they dressed him in a purple cloak, and weaving together a crown of thorns, they put it on him. ¹⁸ And they began to salute him, “Hail, King of the Jews!” ¹⁹ And they were hitting his head with a reed and spitting on him and kneeling down, pretending to honour him. ²⁰ And when they had mocked him, they stripped him of that purple cloak and put his own clothes on him. And they led him on so they could crucify him.

purple cloak

Our Lord was humiliated by soldiers who pretended to honor Him, draping Him in a purple cloak and bowing in mock worship. What they did was not thoughtful or deliberate cruelty—it was the kind that grows when people lose themselves in a crowd. One soldier alone might have simply stood guard, doing his duty without malice. But together, they became something uglier. They fed off one another’s laughter, one another’s bravado, one another’s scorn. Like children on a playground who discover the power of ganging up, they pushed each other further, turning mockery into violence. That is the sad truth about human nature: we are easily shaped by the worst impulses of the group, and we often find courage for cruelty long before we find courage for compassion.

Yet Jesus came precisely for people like that—for people like us. He did not recoil from our brokenness or our bullying hearts. Instead, He stepped into the center of it. He allowed Himself to be wrapped in that purple robe, not because He deserved the shame, but because we did. He let the mockery fall on Him so that mercy could fall on us. He endured the sneers, the blows, the false honor, and the real humiliation so that He could rescue us from the very instincts that nailed Him to the cross. The purple cloak meant to degrade Him became a symbol of the love that would not turn away. He took our cruelty into His own body so that we could be freed from it forever.

This is the love that saves us—not sentimental, not shallow, but sacrificial. A love strong enough to absorb our worst and still offer us His best. A love that sees what we are and chooses us anyway.

LORD, thank You for Your sacrificial love.