Not a word much-used in polite company. Not a pretty word by any stretch. (See how I have trouble even writing it?). It’s an ugly–yet powerful–word.
It assaults our ears, and brutalizes our sensibilities.
Besides its obviously sexual, and perjorative, connotations, I submit that it’s also a strongly theological word.
What do I mean? (Has he lost his mind, you ask?).
Well, there’s this:
There it stood upon the crest of Golgotha looking nothing so much as like an upraised middle finger. And it was: Jesus’ cross was the center one, sandwiched in-between two thieves.
Akin to the aural ugliness of the word– fu*k–was the ugly spectacle of Calvary:
It was the ultimate display of a Father’s frustrations with a sin-soaked world. The sheer barbarity of an innocent man suffering so brutalizes our sensibilities, brings us up short (like the power of a certain word dropped in conversation–it knocks the wind out of us).
Then we realize: we are the brutalizers, we put him there.
If sin is our “fu*k you” to God, the cross is God’s “Fu*k you!” to sin, to our lost condition. To an enemy, who instead of winning at Calvary, lost utterly.
It is a holy battle cry of victory. That, too, is the redemptive power of Calvary.
What do you think?