THE STORY IS TOLD of a true journey that took place many years
ago. It seems the snow was falling as
the missionary drove away from the small South Korean village. His visit with the single pregnant woman was
short because he had Christmas Eve services to perform in his own village five
miles away. In the middle of the night
her labor pains began. Being young and
afraid, the mother decided to try to walk to the home of the missionary. As the light snowfall turned into a storm,
she found shelter underneath an old bridge, where she gave birth to a son. The next morning, the missionary rushed to
see how the woman was, but his car broke down.
As he continued his journey on foot, he heard a faint cry as he crossed
the bridge. Scrambling below, he found a
baby wrapped in his mother’s clothes, and the frozen naked mother beside the
child. The missionary adopted the little
boy and every year on Christmas Day they would visit the grave of the brave
mother. On the boy’s 12th
birthday, as they came upon the grave, the boy asked the missionary to remain
at a distance. The missionary, in
unbelief, watched as the boy took off all his clothes and sat in the snow of
his mother’s grave. The dear child cried
out, “Mother, were you colder than this for me?” (Daily
Readings from Spiritual Classics, Hammerling)
Powerful story, huh?
Powerful lesson! I cannot help
but think of the similarity of God’s deep love for us, His children. Yet, there were some distinct differences –
Jesus’ mother could not shelter her son this time. All his growing up years, she had been there
to care for him. To kiss away the bruises and the hurts, to run her fingers
through his curly, tousled hair. She had
watched with joy his special gifts, and yet there were many times she just did
not understand the depth of this child – this Child who was more than just her
little boy. Jesus. Yes, Jesus . . . who would become the Savior. I think she had some knowledge of the pain
she would endure watching her son die.
Needing to be obedient to God’s will for mankind, there was nothing she
could do to spare him. She would have
gladly found a bridge to hover beneath and hide him from the inevitable death
by crucifixion – if she could have. But
instead, she stood silently by, her lips moving in prayer. This was the best way she knew how to show
her love – and she would stand nearby until the final breath. This was her son, and she would never desert
him – no matter what the high priest and Jewish officials had done. Soldiers tried to shove her ever further away,
but she stood her ground. “This is my
son, and I will not leave him,” she said.
Yet, she gave him to the world.
You see, ultimately, Jesus was God’s Son, God’s gift to
all of mankind. Still, I can’t help but
think what a sacrificial gift Mary gave.
Any mother’s heart would agree.
The scenery, the surroundings were different, too. There was no bridge for shelter . . . but
there was a hill – and a rough hewn cross.
There was no snowstorm . . . but the clear skies turned dark in the
middle of the afternoon. There was a
loving mother . . . but she could not save him.
There was a Father . . . and He could have saved him, but
He turned His back. When I was small,
that seemed so terribly cruel to me. I
couldn’t understand a father actually doing that. Then as I grasped more and more of the
meaning of Christ’s death, I realized that it was truly the ultimate gift of love.
It was all so necessary if God’s plan for my salvation and yours was to
ever become reality. His Son must die. Mercilessly.
The cruelest death known to man.
Crucifixion. Agonizing pain. Dehydration.
Muscle spasms. Rejection. The incomprehensible weight of the sins of
the world . . . on his shoulders. His
cries to the Father: “My God, my God,
why have You forsaken me?”
Do we ever truly think of how painful it was for Christ to save
us? There is merit in
remembering, trying to understand, even in part, just what it was that God did
for us. Just as the 12 year old sat
naked in the snow of his mother’s grave, crying, “Mother, were you colder than
this for me?” – so we need to catch a glimpse of the pain of Calvary, “Jesus,
did you suffer more than this for me?” I
encourage you . . . I challenge you . . . to think today of Calvary, of God the
Father, of Jesus, God’s Son. Ask some
soul-searching questions. You will find
some life-changing answers.
Though ages have passed since the time of Christ’s crucifixion,
still I can almost “see” Him in those days that preceded His death. He knew it was going to take place; He had
made the choice, willingly, after agonizing with sweat-drops of blood. He could have gone into isolation thinking,
“Well, my time here on earth is almost over; there’s not much I can do anymore
before my death.” But instead, he walked
those lonesome roads . . . he healed the sick, saved the lost. He met with friends, he raised the dead,
taught the people, and had compassion on the hurting and the poor. He comforted his disciples, gave them his
promises and his peace, and he called them his friends. So much a part of Christ’s ministry while
here on earth was his love and his compassion.
He reached out and touched people where they were at – both the lovely and
the unlovely. The sick and the
healthy. Those who were sad, those who
rejoiced. Those who had nothing and
those who were rich. Those who were
alone, and those who had family. To
those who were dying, he gave them a new lease on life. No wonder people loved him and followed
him. And no wonder there were those who
were jealous – jealous enough to have him killed. It was he who had the power, who did the
miracles, who knew the very intent of the heart, who could drive out demons,
and who could dry their tears. It was he
who could feed five thousand men plus women and children with just two fish and
five loaves. Who else could do these
things? Sure, He was God’s Son, but He
didn’t minister because he had to; he showed compassion because He wanted
to. It was a “heart” thing. Christ, indeed, made a difference in all
those whose lives He touched. They were never, ever the same.
Are you the same, because of Christ? We should not be! How could we be? I am reminded of the Scripture that tells
about being “crucified with Christ”. I’m
not sure we fully understand what that really means. Paul’s words in Galatians 2:20 make a resounding
statement: “I have been crucified with
Christ and I no longer live, but Christ lives in me. The life I live in the body, I live by faith
in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me.”
As we come to celebrate Easter in the next few weeks, just what
is it that Christ wants from us? Do we
just take for granted “the cross” or do we intend to offer ourselves as “living
sacrifices” to the One who hung on the cross?
Do we think of colorful new clothes for this season, or do our minds
focus on the Lord who was laid in the Tomb, wrapped in linen and spices? Do we demand certain things from God –
demanding to “see” every detail; when in fact, we ought to “see” more clearly
the nail prints in His hands and His feet?
If a book was written about our lives, would it be filled with
incidents of compassion – or did we just “walk on by” on our journey? Do we stop to lend a helping hand to those in
need, or is our time too important?
Do we share with others the things we do have – or do we cling to
our possessions and feverishly work for more?
Are we sensitive enough to discern the aching hearts, or do we ignore
them and busy ourselves with our best-laid plans? Hopefully, when others “read” our lives, they
will see Christ-like love and compassion lived out through us.
When we finally grasp the agony of the cross – the precious Gift
of the Father – and the total Sacrifice of the Son . . . then and only then can
we begin to experience the victory, the overcoming power, the ability to be all
that Jesus died for us to be. Out of
pain comes victory, release and joy. Out
of agony and hurt comes freedom and strength and peace. Only Christ can do that! What does the old hymn say? “O that old rugged cross, so despised by the
world, has a wondrous attraction for me.” Why?
Because “it was on that old cross, Jesus
suffered and died, and pardoned and sanctified me.” Me! See, it becomes personal. The cross was for me – for you! And because of the
Empty Tomb, its power is far-reaching . . . even into Eternity! Sin cannot bind us, the grave cannot hold us
– for He is Risen!
He’s alive! Make your
annual trip back to the cross, to the grave, and to the empty tomb. And then choose to make it a daily
journey. Suffer with Jesus – rejoice
with Jesus. Remember . . . the
Cross! And rejoice . . in the Empty Tomb!
REMEMBER . . .
“But thanks
be to God, who always leads us in triumphal procession in Christ
and through
us spreads everywhere the fragrance of the knowledge of him.
For we are to
God the aroma of Christ among those who are being saved and those who are perishing.”
II
Corinthians 2:14-15
Joyfully Serving Christ . . .
Pastor Doug & Debbie
