“And when they were come to the place, which is called Calvary...” Luke 23:33
The hill of comfort—is the hill of Calvary. The house of consolation—is built with the wood of the cross. The temple of heavenly blessing—is founded upon the cleft rock—cleft by the spear which pierced His side! No scene in sacred history ever gladdens the soul—like Calvary’s tragedy!
Light springs from the midday-midnight of Golgotha! Every flower of blessing blooms sweetly beneath the shadow of the once accursed tree. In that place of thirst—grace has dug a fountain which ever gushes with waters pure as crystal, each drop capable of alleviating the woes of mankind!
You who have had your seasons of trouble, will confess that it was not at Mount Olivet that you ever found comfort, not on the Mount Sinai—but Gethsemane, Gabbatha, and Golgotha have been a means of comfort to you. The bitter herbs of Gethsemane—have often taken away the bitters of your life. The scourge of Gabbatha—has often scourged away your cares. The groans of Calvary—yield us rare and rich comfort.
We would never have known Christ’s love in all its heights and depths—if He had not died; nor could we guess the Father’s deep affection—if He had not given His Son to die. The common mercies we enjoy, all sing of love; just as the sea-shell, when we put it to our ears, whispers of the deep sea whence it came. But if we desire to hear the ocean itself, we must not look at every-day blessings—but at the transactions of the crucifixion. He who would know love, let him retire to Calvary and see the Man of sorrows die! –C.H. Spurgeon