He knew what was in man’s heart. He knew the thoughts of those who approached him. He knew whether they were hypocrites or genuine. He knew whether their questions were sincere or intended as a trap. He knew the innermost thoughts of his disciples, whether they were thoughts of conflict or calmness, doubt or devotion.
He knew. He knew that he came into this world to die. He knew that those lambs sacrificed at the temple pointed to him. He knew that in spite of his supreme devotion to the will of the Father, he would be betrayed by a trusted disciple. He knew that his time would come and his life would be given on an executioner’s cross.
How differently did he read a passage like Isaiah 53 because of what he knew? Knowing that he was the lamb led to slaughter – knowing that he was the one who would be despised and rejected – knowing that he would be wounded and bruised – knowing that the Lord would lay our iniquity on him and that he would be made an offering for sin.
Or, a passage like Psalm 22 where the words that open the psalm – My God, my God, why have you forsaken me – are a fitting description of what he would experience on the cross. How would it affect our Lord, when the words of this psalm are written as if he is describing his own crucifixion – they have pierced my hands and feet – they divide my garments among them – they stare and gloat over me – for my clothing they cast lots. How differently did he read this psalm knowing that these very things would be done to him?
We may not know his exact thoughts in such times and with such passages, but we do know what he did. And we thank God that he did it. For not only did he know all of these things, but also, he knew my desperate need – he knew my sinfulness – he knew my hopelessness without him.