The word translated "made" is often used to signify a work of art or craftsmanship. Art critics may go through an art gallery and dispassionately examine the works there and note this or that style or method, and finally render their judgment of the work. Often they do this, not to heap praise on the artist, but to show just how great an art critic they are. But works of art are not so much for critical examination as they are for immediate appreciation. That is, we are to simply look at them and be moved by them. They reach us on a deeper level than mere intellect, or the artist's effort has been to no avail to us. If we listen to Tchaikovsky's "1812 Overture" and are not made melancholy by the opening strains of the violins, if we do not feel the danger of impending battle in subsequent passages, if the cannon in the closing portion is merely a curious musical oddity, if the triumphant music of the final sequence does not make us want to rise from our seats in ecstatic exultation, then we have missed the whole point of the masterpiece. We may know every note, but if we are not moved, then we do not know the symphony.
The work of the cross is God's great masterpiece. It is true that Creation is a wonderful work of God, full of revelations of the glory of God; but Creation is merely the canvas on which God has painted His greatest work, the cross of the Lord Jesus. Creation is just the paper on which God has composed His greatest symphony. As with any great work of art, proper appreciation of it leads to admiration for the artist. How much this applies to the masterpiece of the cross! Can we behold what God has done there and have anything less than admiration for the Artist? We gaze at it in holy wonder, stunned by what we see. We cannot help but praise Him who painted what we see there!
As with any great work of art, we see the Artist revealed in the work he has done. The difference between art work and mere craftsmanship is that, in art work, there is something of the artist in it. We may look at a scene on canvas, but in his painting of it, the artist has told us more than what he saw; he has told us how he saw it, and has thus revealed himself to us. There is no greater revelation of God than the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ. We learn more of Him there than we can anywhere else. Every one of His attributes is laid out in unmistakable clarity and irresistible conviction. Here is the Father's classroom where "we hear and are taught by the Father." Here is the full answer to Moses' request, "Show me your glory."
As with any great work of art, we learn something of our selves by Christ being made sin for us. In the ivory towers of seminaries men may examine this work of art with dispassionate detachment; but that is no way to look at art. When we truly see the work of God in making Christ to be sin, we must be moved by it. And we are moved by it because, like all great art, it tells us something about ourselves. I have looked at paintings and was able to acknowledge that the person who painted it had great skill with a paintbrush, but the painting "did nothing for me." The reason was that the painting said nothing about me; I could not identify with it. But, when we look at the cross, we see ourselves. We see our faces in the mocking crowd and know our depravity. As believers, we hear His cry, "It is finished," and see the longings of our heart fulfilled. And, as a struggling disciples, we find the answer to the Lord's probing question, "Lovest thou me more than these?" Oh, how that question pierces this heart; and so long as I look at me, the answer remains in doubt. But when I behold this Masterpiece of Divine grace, it reaches something in me that is otherwise hidden, and from a hidden place comes forth the truth, "You know all things, and you know that I love Thee!"
Like any great work of art, it can be appreciated by all, regardless of one's artistic expertise. I have heard some pieces of trumpet music that impressed me with the skill of the trumpeter; but that is only because I have played trumpet and knew how difficult the music was. It wasn't pretty music, and those with no understanding of trumpet playing would not have gained any enjoyment from it. But great music can be enjoyed by all. As a child, when I knew nothing of music theory, I loved "1812 Overture." Since then, I have learned a great deal about music, and have even spent some time examining and learning the score to this particular piece. I still love that music; and my greater knowledge of it has not decreased my appreciation of it. To the contrary! I now listen to it with greater enjoyment. But still, when it is winding up and the orchestra is feverishly belting out the last strains and the cannon are firing and the bells are tolling and in my mind's eye I can see Russian people exulting in their victory over Napoleon, I want to stand up and shout – just like when I was a kid. And when I hear the gospel, every passage moves me; and when it's climax is reached in Christ being made sin for me, when the orchestra of Divine attributes is reaching its feverish pitch, when the cannon of Divine judgment roar, and the bells of Divine peace peal forth; and the Victorious Shout of the King rings out and the exultation of the saints fills my ears – I still want to stand up and shout, "To God be the glory, great things He has done!" How beautiful to see; how beautiful to hear!