As Christ Loved the Church

When I got married, it never occurred to me that I didn’t love my wife as Christ loved the church. At the time, I was a naval officer, and I was in the Korean War. My first ship struck an underwater mine, and my second ship was hit by gunfire. I was willing to die for my country, or I wouldn’t have been there. I was also willing to die for my wife—and I assumed that meant I was obeying the command to love her as Christ loved the church.

I figured Bessie had the harder job; she had to submit. It was easy for me to love Bessie, but hard for her to submit to me: she had been a Christian for sixteen years, I had been a Christian for only three; she was a Bible school graduate, I was a Naval Academy graduate; when we met, she was the principal of a Bible school in Yokohama, and I was a naval officer; and she was eight and a half years older than I was.

After we were married, we came to the States for a while, and then I was sent to sea again. Our first two children were born in California while I was in the western Pacific. Then Bessie came over to Japan with the boys. We were together at first, since I had shore duty. Then I got six months’ temporary duty aboard an aircraft carrier out at sea. I called home from the first port we came into in the Inland Sea, and Bessie said, “I think I’m pregnant.”

All this time, I thought that I had been loving Bessie as Christ loved the church. One night, when Bessie was expecting our third child, and I was in the East China Sea, I had a dream. Most dreams you forget. I remember this dream. I dreamed that I lost Bessie. I remember weeping in the dream. Two things shook me up when I woke up. One was that I had lost Bessie, and the other was that I had cried. I hadn’t cried since the 8^th grade when I was called into the principal’s office for beating up the principal’s son! I was shocked that I wept in this dream.

I thought, “Man! Suppose this really happened? Do I love Bessie like Christ loved the church?” I opened up my Bible to Ephesians 5 and read it. “Yeah, that’s simple. I do.” I remember closing the Bible and saying, “That’s easy.”

Then I thought, “Wait a minute. Wait a minute! Was it easy for Christ to love the church? Maybe I don’t understand how much He loved the church.”

I began to study Christ’s love for the church. In this study, I came across two physical descriptions of Jesus. The first was in Matthew 17: “After six days Jesus took with Him Peter, James and John the brother of James, and led them up a high mountain by themselves. There He was transfigured before them. His face shone like the sun, and His clothes became as white as the light. Just then there appeared before them Moses and Elijah, talking with Jesus” (vv. 1-3). Remember the angel who sat on the stone that he rolled away from the door of Jesus’ tomb? The Bible says his countenance was like lightning and his raiment white as snow (Matt. 28:3). The angel had a countenance like lightning, and Jesus has a face like the sun. That is wonderful—real glory.

Then I came across another description of Jesus in Isaiah 52 and 53. “Behold, My Servant shall deal prudently; He shall be exalted and extolled and be very high. Just as many were astonished at you, so His visage was marred more than any man, and His form more than the sons of men” (Isa. 52:13-14 NKJV). Have you ever seen anyone whose face has been scarred by fire or badly mutilated in some way? Do you want to look at him? No. You turn your face away. On the cross, Jesus was marred beyond human likeness, His form beyond that of the sons of men. Paintings of the crucifixion make Him out to look like a normal man up on that cross. He did not look like that. His form was marred beyond recognition.

“Who has believed our report? And to whom has the arm of the Lord been revealed? For He shall grow up before Him as a tender plant, and as a root out of dry ground. He has no form or comeliness; and when we see Him, there is no beauty that we should desire Him” (Isa. 53:1-2 NKJV). Have you ever pulled a root out of dry ground? What did it look like? Withered. Jesus on the cross had no beauty, nothing to make Him pleasant to look at.

“He is despised and rejected by men, a Man of sorrows and acquainted with grief. And we hid, as it were, our faces from Him; He was despised, and we did not esteem Him” (v. 3). How awful did He look? As one from whom men hide their faces. On the cross, the One whose face had shone like the sun became an appalling sight.

We learn the reason for this in verses 4-5: “Surely He has borne our griefs and carried our sorrows; yet we esteemed Him stricken, smitten by God, and afflicted. But He was wounded for our transgressions, He was bruised for our iniquities; the chastisement for our peace was upon Him, and by His stripes we are healed.” He became a sight that no one could bear to look at because all our sins were placed on Him. Billions of rapes, murders, and atrocities of all kinds turned the beauty of Matthew 17 into the horror of Isaiah 52 as He was wounded for our transgressions. Every evil deed in the history of the world was nailed to the cross in the person of Jesus Christ.

Have you ever met a person who has lived in sin all his life? You can see it in his face. There are certainly some Dorian Grays walking around, but with most people what is on the inside shows on the outside. Have you ever seen a photo of Corrie ten Boom? She looked like she never had a problem in her life. The joy and peace she had on the inside showed in her face.

All the sins of the world were placed in Christ’s body. He took them, and the punishment for them, in six hours on the cross. He was so beautiful we couldn’t look at Him, and then so ugly we couldn’t look at Him.

Many years ago, a conference speaker told of a woman who wanted to know how to become a Christian, but he did not have time to lead her to the Lord. The speaker told her, “Look up Isaiah 53:6. Go in at the first all, and come out at the last all.”

“All we like sheep have gone astray; we have turned, every one, to his own way; and the Lord has laid on Him the iniquity of us all” (v. 6). All our sins, laid on Him. All our iniquity, gone. She was converted.

He was oppressed and He was afflicted, yet He opened not His mouth; He was led as a lamb to the slaughter, and as a sheep before its shearers is silent, so He opened not His mouth. He was taken from prison and from judgment, and who will declare His generation? For He was cut off from the land of the living; for the transgressions of My people He was stricken. And they made His grave with the wicked—but with the rich at His death, because He had done no violence, nor was any deceit in His mouth. (vv. 7-9)

Zero sin became maximum sin.

Yet it pleased the Lord to bruise Him; He has put Him to grief. When You make His soul an offering for sin, He shall see His seed, He shall prolong His days, and the pleasure of the Lord shall prosper in His hand. He shall see the labor of His soul, and be satisfied. By His knowledge My righteous Servant shall justify many, for He shall bear their iniquities. Therefore I will divide Him a portion with the great, and He shall divide the spoil with the strong, because He poured out His soul unto death, and He was numbered with the transgressors, and He bore the sin of many, and made intercession for the transgressors. (vv. 10-12)

In third grade, I was sent to sit in the corner for something I hadn’t done. I wanted to claim my innocence. (If I had been put in the corner for all the things I had done, I could have been there for quite some time!) But Isaiah says Christ opened not His mouth. He did not defend Himself against the false accusations; He just took them.

Having read all this and more in my study on Christ and the Church, I read 2 Corinthians 5:21: “God made him who had no sin to be sin for us, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God.” Jesus didn’t just carry sins; He became sin. Why? That we might be made the righteousness of God in Him. Again, the trade—but He not only took our sins; He took our sin nature: He became sin.

Having made this study, I asked myself, “Do I love my wife like Christ loved us?” I was willing to die and go to heaven. “Am I willing to take the punishment for all of Bessie’s sins?” Well, that’s a dumb question; I can’t anyhow—it’s already been done. That is not the question, though. We are to love our wives in the same way as Christ loved the Church.

“Am I willing to lose my salvation for Bessie?” Whoever was willing to do that? Moses was. He told God, “Please forgive their sin—but if not, then blot me out of the book you have written” (Ex. 32:32). The Apostle Paul was also willing. “For I could wish that I myself were accursed from Christ for my brethren, my countrymen according to the flesh” (Rom. 9:3 NKJV). Paul and Moses both said, “I am willing to lose my salvation for their salvation.” Am I willing to lose my salvation for Bessie’s? The answer was no. I realized I did not love my wife as Christ loved the Church.

I wrote Bessie a letter and told her she was going to be loved like she had never been loved before. I am still not loving her as Christ loved the Church. The difference is, before I was counting on how submissive she was to make our marriage good instead of on my own responsibility to love.