"Who Do Men Say That I Am?"

He was a man.  No one would know it, but he really was a man.  Appalling to

look upon, his form lacked the likeness of a human being.  It was marred beyond

recognition.  Not only could one not discern, who he was, but one could not even

tell he was a walking, talking, living human being.  This total disfiguring of his

appearance was not the result of a disease.  He was not suffering because he

had not eaten right, nor was he suffering a cancer from using a substance like

tobacco.  No, what had torn away his flesh beyond human likeness was a beating,

a whipping he had done nothing to deserve.  It was a vicious flogging with a

cat-o-nine-tails.  Thirty-nine times that whip, with its pieces of bone fastened

to the ends of all nine straps, dug into and tore away his flesh.  Why did he

accept that merciless beating?   We are told the answer in one clause, one

little part of a verse in Isaiah 53:5: