More thoughts for my girls, from my Bible reading this evening.
Tonight, I'm reading from Matthew 26 through Mark 2.
The end of
Matthew chronicles the unjust trial, condemnation, persecution,
crucifixion, death, burial, and resurrection of Jesus. It's a powerful
story, even more so this time of year, with Easter only a couple of
weeks away. There is so much I could say; I don't know where to focus
for just one thoughts for this email.
I suppose I want to draw your attention to the night Jesus prayed in
the garden of Gethsemane, and his disciples (who were supposed to be
praying and watching at the gate) repeatedly fell asleep and left him
alone, unsupported, in his darkest hour. (See Matthew 26:36-46)
I have to confess; for a long time (and maybe even still), I really
didn't understand Jesus' grief and despair at this time. I guess I
thought, "Yes, definitely it would be somber to await one's
executioners, even more so when you hadn't done anything wrong. How
scary to be unjustly condemned, and how awful to await the dawn, knowing
it would bring nothing but terror and, ultimately, a murderer's death
by agonizing crucifixion." I didn't really get it. Jesus didn't sweat
drops of blood and weep because he was afraid to die an agonizing death.
(Which would be reason enough for me to sweat blood and cry, by the
way. I'm terribly afraid of pain). He spent the night in total anguish
because he knew that his death meant not merely excruciating physical
pain, and total humiliation, but . . . he, the Holy, the Sovereign, the
Son of the Father who knew God, loved God, and who
was God, would
become the recipient of the righteous, terrible wrath of a just and
holy God. We cannot even begin to comprehend what kind of terror and
anguish this is. The only Man who had ever lived in perfect obedience,
total innocence, without one single sin against him, would become a
blood-saturated substitute for all who were truly guilty. His holiness,
cleanness, and perfect purity would bear the punishment deserved by all
who were filthy, rotten, foul, debased, and evil to the core of their
very beings. The punishment you and I deserve.
That is why he wept. Not for physical pain, but for spiritual
anguish. The wrath of God is a crippling, terrible, frightening, killing
kind of fear that cuts to the quick of all who understand its measure.
It is this gasping, paralyzing, anguishing fear that drives foul sinners
to repentance, that drives them to their knees, begging forgiveness
from a Holy God before whom they have no reason to stand except for His
grace. But, He cannot simply be gracious to wicked people and still be
just; all sins have a just recompense, a wage that has been earned and
must be paid. That wage is death. An agonizing, spiritual,
separated-from-God death. A death you and I, by all rights, have earned
for ourselves by our foul hearts.
And Jesus Christ, that loving, gentle, holy, perfect, beautiful Son
of Man and Son of God, saw down the corridors of time and saw your face,
your tear-filled eyes, your guilty sentence, your hopeless plight, your
foul record of sins, and he stepped up to executioner's block, not only
for a physical death, but for the full onslaught of the out-poured
wrath of God. For you. For me. And it cost him, oh so dearly. Such
anguish. Such grief. How he prayed in that garden that there might be
some other way! "Nevertheless, not as I will, but as you will, Father."
Oh, how great is our God. How merciful. How slow to anger, abounding
in mercy.
What is man, that You are mindful of him? We are so small, so
weak, so flawed, yet he loves us still. I cannot understand such love.
And in its wake, as a recipient of such immeasurable graciousness, how
can I possibly settle for a religion that is shallow, weak, apathetic, fleshly in
its lusts, and requires me to give less than absolutely everything?
Look at what He did for me! Would I insult him so, and disregard such
love? What hypocrisy is such a pseudo-faith! Far be it from me, oh Lord. I am weak, but You are strong. Help
me, Father, to live with urgency and a right perspective of my place:
from whence I've come, by Your
amazing grace.
"Who saved us and called us to a holy calling, not because of our
works but because of his own purpose and grace, which he gave us in
Christ Jesus before the ages began." (2 Tim 1:9)
All my love, sweet girls,
~Brenna
. . . Coram Deo . . .
"Living before the face of God"
