a call to remember

Therefore remember that at one time you Gentiles in the flesh, called “the uncircumcision” by what is called the circumcision, which is made in the flesh by hands—remember that you were at that time separated from Christ, alienated from the commonwealth of Israel and strangers to the covenants of promise, having no hope and without God in the world. But now in Christ Jesus you who once were far off have been brought near by the blood of Christ.   Ephesians 2:11-13

 

 Remember that at one time you were separated from God. Remember that you were an alien—you had no belonging and no understanding of God. Remember that you were once separated. You were without God.

 

It’s good to remember, even if what we are remembering is itself not good. It’s good to keep in mind where we’ve come from and what we’ve been saved from. It’s good to have this kind of perspective. Remembering that God has given us all we have and made us all we are. Remembering that when left to ourselves we were without hope and without God.

 

 

But you are a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a people for his own possession, that you may proclaim the excellencies of him who called you out of darkness into his marvelous light. Once you were not a people, but now you are God’s people; once you had not received mercy, but now you have received mercy.           

1 Peter 2:9-10

  

Remembering what we once were (and were not) makes being who we are now all the more sweet. It’s harder to rail against the church with all its foibles (and there certainly are a lot we could get distracted with!) when we remember that we now belong to a people when once we were alone. When we remember that this church is God’s royal priesthood and holy nation and that we are inseparable from them—we are them! It’s also harder to be malcontented with the day’s little bumps and struggles when we are remembering that we were once separated from Christ and in utter darkness, but now we walk in his marvelous light.

  

You shall remember that you were a slave in the land of Egypt, and the Lord your God redeemed you; therefore I command you this today.         Deuteronomy 15:15

 

 It’s remarkable the way the book of Deuteronomy is filled with calls to remember. At least four times the call is a distinct call to “remember when you were slaves.” There are also a multitude of calls to remember sins committed and God’s faithfulness, but God goes out of his way to have Moses call the people to the specific memory of slavery. He does this repeatedly. How better to produce thankfulness and gratitude for our rescue than to remember what we once were?

 

But what if I came to Christ as a young child? Doesn’t that make these memories less sweet? Doesn’t it mean less because I had less time and freedom to allow my sinful nature full access to all its corruptive potential?

 

Consider again the Israelites who were commanded to remember they were slaves. Do you think it meant less to those who were children when they left Egypt simply because they had not yet had the opportunity to bear the full brunt and punishment of their slavery? Was the present less sweet? Were they less enslaved in Egypt than their parents? Certainly not. If anything, they should have greater thankfulness from the realization that God brought them out so soon; so quickly before they were subjugated to their slavery as adults. Just because they were children didn’t make them less enslaved. The same can be said of those of us who came to Christ as young children. We were not less enslaved, less sinful, less corrupted and hopeless. We were on the same trajectory as all human beings, and God saw fit to rescue us.

 

Remember that you were spearated from Christ, but now you who once were far off have been brought near by his blood. This is the most beautiful of memories.

 

hidden

If then you have been raised with Christ, seek the things that are above, where Christ is, seated at the right hand of God. Set your minds on things that are above, not on things that are on earth. For you have died, and your life is hidden with Christ in God. When Christ who is your life appears, then you also will appear with him in glory.    Colossians 3:1-4

 

The great redemption story of the Bible is that God is actively and intentionally rescuing us from ourselves. In his infinite grace and mercy God makes a way for us sinners to be restored to him through Jesus. I know we know this. I’m just not always convinced that we know this. What I mean is that I think we easily and often lose sight of the glorious gift of our salvation and all the implications of it.

 

Look at Paul’s powerful language to the Colossian church:

 

For you have died, and your life is hidden with Christ in God.

 

It isn’t that somehow God simply paid a fine for us by the death of his Son and now we go on our merry way with a “get out of jail free” card. It is wholly true that Jesus paid our debt of sin—I’m not implying otherwise—but the implications are far greater than us just now being given a pass.

 

When Jesus died, we died. That’s what Paul is explaining in the middle of Colossians 2. And here he simply references that truth. “For you have died…” You and I are no more; at least not as our old selves. We now have a life that is hidden in Christ. Jesus’ death and resurrection doesn’t simply wash the dirt off of who we were and give us a fresh coat of paint. When God gave himself up for us he destroyed the old and corrupted one that we were, cancelling our debt because he rid us of the old creation. We have been made wholly different, with a new origin and a new existence. Neither are our own.

 

Now, who we are is hidden in who Christ is. And this is an abundant grace! It isn’t as petty as losing our individuality and identity. Instead it is that we are given a far better identity and rescued from the barrenness of our corrupted isolation (which we often mistakenly laud as individuality). We are now part of the Body of Christ. Connected to the Vine. Living stones being built up as a spiritual house. You can choose whichever metaphor you like, the Bible is replete with them. We who were not a people are now God’s people.

 

Who we are is hidden in who Christ is.

 

I’ve been thinking off and on about this for quite a few days. I read this passage earlier this week and I keep finding this concept returning to me. What does it mean? What does it look like to live in light of this truth?

 

Who I am is hidden in who Christ is. What does this mean for how I live today? How I think? What I chase after and what I value? Am I still finding myself living for who I used to be? Living for self? Living for the approval of others? Living in response to fear or a desire to control? Am I setting the agenda, defining the parameters, living in an unhidden attempt to make a name for myself?

 

The radical—and even offense—truth of the gospel comes in Paul’s next words. He declares to this Colossian church that because we are hidden in Christ we don’t even appear until he does. Alone we are nothing. Christ is all and we are in him, hidden there against our own sinfulness and depravity. Hidden there against our own inabilities and weakness. Hidden there to share in his glory when he returns.

 

Why is it again that we are always trying to come out of hiding? Always trying to make our own way, get attention for ourselves, establish our own plans?

 

reality check

Now we have received not the spirit of the world, but the Spirit who is from God, that we might understand the things freely given us by God. And we impart this in words not taught by human wisdom but taught by the Spirit, interpreting spiritual truths to those who are spiritual. The natural person does not accept the things of the Spirit of God, for they are folly to him, and he is not able to understand them because they are spiritually discerned. The spiritual person judges all things, but is himself to be judged by no one. ”For who has understood the mind of the Lord so as to instruct him?” But we have the mind of Christ. 1 Corinthians 2:12-16

 

 

Sometimes I read of the things God has given and I can’t help but wonder about us humans. How is it that we get so side-tracked on the things we aren’t getting? How is it we settle so easily for a few temporary conveniences and celebrate them as if they are the greatest of God’s blessings? Why do we so easily feel unloved when we find the plans that we’ve made collapsing and fail to see the magnitude of what we’ve been given apart from anything we could have devised on our own?

 

God has given us his Spirit.

 

How do we even get passed that truth? How do we wrap our minds around the magnificence of what we are being told?

 

God, the Almighty Creator of the universe, the one by whom things were formed at the sound of his voice has given us his Spirit. This God whose beginning never was and whose end doesn’t exist dwells within us. Our God, who acts in always perfection and has more wrath and grace and mercy and judgment than ever could be held by another. This God who is always right, more than fair, beyond loving, overflowing with righteousness, and whose glory is too much to behold; this God has come and made his home in us.

 

Tell me, how do we ever get beyond this? How do we ever loss interest in this? How do we ever forget something of this immensity?

 

In what circumstance could it ever be understandable that we would wake in the morning and not be leveled by the reality of so much grace that would lead a God of such utter holiness—such terrific perfection and purity—to indwell these broken, feeble, sinners we are?

 

God has given us his Spirit.

 

Some days we simply need a reality check. Not because we’re living in pursuit of too much, but because we’ve settle for far too little. We’ve not called on God to give more than he can, but have allowed ourselves to be slumbered by so much less than what is ours. God has given us his Spirit. We have the mind of Christ. And so we preach the gospel to ourselves again and again. We read these truths of Scripture, re-celebrate what has been given us by the Father, and find renewed hope and joy in the reality of our grace-filled lives.

 

God has given us his Spirit. Praise Him.

 

nothing is wasted

I want you to know, brothers, that what has happened to me has really served to advance the gospel, so that it has become known throughout the whole imperial guard and to all the rest that my imprisonment is for Christ. And most of the brothers, having become confident in the Lord by my imprisonment, are much more bold to speak the word without fear.            Philippians 1:12-14

 

Nothing is wasted with God.

 

There is something miraculous in that because no matter how hard we try in this day and age of “green”—in this time where passions for recycling and re-using run high—we still leave waste. We still find pieces and parts of everyday living that simply can’t be used. And in a more experiential aspect of life we find much we don’t want to use. There is much about our lives we’d rather hide, ignore, or simply wish was different. We don’t want to use some of what’s happened to us and some of what we’ve done to ourselves.

 

But for God things are different. When it comes to our lives, experiences, and every day happenings nothing is wasted. God uses it all. He takes everything and makes something from it. When we look at our best moments, our wise words, our times of servitude—it’s easy to see how God uses these (even if they are far and few between). But what about the other stuff? What about when we don’t act as we should? What about when life goes horribly wrong? When people say things we never thought we’d hear from them or when we find all our plans unraveling?

 

Nothing is wasted. God uses everything.

 

So when Paul finds himself imprisoned for his faith he doesn’t cry out to God in bitter anger. He doesn’t complain and wonder why God isn’t doing anything or how it could be that he isn’t rescued. He sees how God is using it. He sees how the gospel is advanced regardless of circumstances. People are hearing of Jesus who wouldn’t have if Paul had not been there. Brothers and sisters in the faith are finding confidence to be bold because Paul has led the way for them. I guess the real question for us has to be would this be enough? Would God’s name being glorified and his people being bold and his gospel being preached be enough for us or do we also require a modicum of comfort and recognition?

 

Of course we would say it’s enough. Of course we would argue that if we can see how God is using our circumstances then that would be all we need. Yet still we complain when things go differently than we wanted. Still we doubt and grumble and accuse when life gets hard.

 

And what about those times when we can’t see how God is using our circumstances? What about when all we see is our suffering and hardship? Can we trust then that God uses everything? Can we rest in the comfort that the gospel of Jesus advances relentlessly to the glory of God? Or do we only feel like resting when we are in circumstances of our own choosing where we feel some sense of control and are unafraid?

 

Can we look on our darkest and most difficult times without bitterness and simply rest in the truth that God wastes nothing, that he uses all? That everything that has happened to us God can use to serve his own great message of salvation even if we can’t exactly connect the dots of how our life has glorified him? Is it enough to trust and know that God uses everything? That he redeems all our life for his glory? Or do we still want something else? Are we still holding out to give thanks only after our expectations have been met and your thirst for comfort and security assuaged?

 

transformed

For many, of whom I have often told you and now tell you even with tears, walk as enemies of the cross of Christ. Their end is destruction, their god is their belly, and they glory in their shame, with minds set on earthly things. But our citizenship is in heaven, and from it we await a Savior, the Lord Jesus Christ, who will transform our lowly body to be like his glorious body, by the power that enables him even to subject all things to himself.        Philippians 3:18-21

 

 

What great gifts await us! What blessing and extravagant grace.

 

We await a Savior who will transform our lowly body to be like his glorious body. It defies human logic that God would take us—those who by nature glory in our own shame, worship our own appetites, and set our minds on the temporary—that he would take us and transform us into something glorious like his Son.

 

We don’t deserve this. It would be ridiculous to attempt to earn this. This is grace. It’s embarrassingly generous to our prideful hearts to be given so much and to accept that we just don’t deserve it. It’s humbling.

 

It’s humbling and as we see ourselves in all our brokenness and sin it could be reason to doubt. Jesus is going to take this?! This body of mine, with all its lowly self-worship and shame-loving? He’s taking this and turning it into something like his own glorious body?! How does that even happen?

 

It would seem too great a hope were it not for the reminder of the last part of that final sentence.

 

“…by the power that enables him even to subject all things to himself.”

 

Power to subject all things to himself. That is great power. That is magnificent power. That is power that defies us to even begin comprehend how great, how strong, how capable. We cannot fathom the  immensity of such power.

 

And the best news? Jesus doesn’t just turn us and set us on a new trajectory so we’re facing the right direction again. He doesn’t simply wipe the slate clean from our past and tell us to “do better with what we have left.” Jesus doesn’t even give us some new pointers and some “tricks of the trade” so we can be more holy—more like him.

 

No. Jesus transforms us. He makes us what we weren’t. Jesus takes who we were and replaces it with something we could never be without him. We are wholly different and holy transformed. We stop being enemies and become like him.

 

This is grace. It is beautiful and hope-filled. Extravagant and reckless. It is wild and purposeful. And it’s for God’s glory. Transforming us is a great and amazing blessing of grace on us, but the primary point is that God would be glorified. That he would be displayed as great and holy.

 

This is the savior we await. One who brings transformation and hope and glory. We are blessed beyond measure to be citizens of his kingdom. May we pray that we never lose sight of how radically we have been blessed.

 

far

So the Pharisees and teachers of the law asked Jesus, “Why don’t your disciples live according to the tradition of the elders instead of eating their food with defiled hands?”

He replied, “Isaiah was right when he prophesied about you hypocrites; as it is written:

“‘These people honor me with their lips,
but their hearts are far from me.

They worship me in vain;
their teachings are merely human rules.’

You have let go of the commands of God and are holding on to human traditions.”

Mark 7:5-8

 

 

The words Jesus has for the Pharisees are often equally convicting for us as Christians today. If, that is, we can look past our self-impressed egos and self-admiring sense of superiority over the Pharisees. Let’s be honest, we’re really good at reading what the Pharisees say and do and shaking our heads in disbelief. How could they ever be so foolish? So self-righteous? So blind to the truth?

 

And yet, we are just like them in so many ways.

 

In Mark 7 Jesus is confronted yet again with the legalism of the Pharisees and his response is difficult to read. Essentially what Jesus tells them is that at the level of their hearts they aren’t really interested in following him at all. They are interested in themselves.

 

“…their hearts are far from me.”

 

They were interested in rules about God, in looking the part of one who’s interested, and in performing regular rituals, but their hearts didn’t want the cost of real change. They didn’t want real, dynamic encounters with God. That simply puts too much at risk. It’s safer and simpler to live in pseudo-moralistic systems of self-atonement. Systems of rules and doing protect our eyes from seeing the reality of our own rebellion; the depth of our own corruption. They give us something to take pride in, something to feel like we are skilled in. Something we’ll deserve a pat on the back for accomplishing.

 

Pursuing systems of self-redemption is far more palatable to our pride than falling flat before the Redeemer and acknowledging that we can do nothing.

 

The problem is often not our actual outward behaviors (although those have their moments too), but it’s the heart behind them. The secret motivations of self-interest that permeate even our noblest and holiest pursuits. We are wretched even in our good deeds.

 

The bottom line is that it’s not what we do that needs changing (even if what we do does need changing); it’s our hearts need to be renewed. Our motives and desires at our essential core need renewal. Even as we follow Christ so often our motives are more about ourselves than him. Even as we commit to serving at church and in our communities, as we sing songs of praise and pray prayers of love, the reality is that our hearts are far from him.

 

I will sprinkle clean water on you, and you will be clean; I will cleanse you from all your impurities and from all your idols. I will give you a new heart and put a new spirit in you; I will remove from you your heart of stone and give you a heart of flesh. And I will put my Spirit in you and move you to follow my decrees and be careful to keep my laws.                    Ezekiel 36:25-27

 

Lord, may this day be lived with the new heart of flesh that only you can give. May we find hearts within us that are near you. Change our interests, our desires, our wants, and all the things we value. Jesus, change our hearts.

 

inside out

 

There is no real, lasting change that does not begin in the heart of a person.

 

I think we hear that and are inclined to nod our heads in agreement. Of course real changes begins in the heart! But we often live differently…

 

We often live as if the goal of following Christ is behavior modification. As if Jesus just wants us to tow the line and speak the lingo. As if Jesus ever, anywhere in the gospels, is concerned with or interested merely in appearances.

 

Remember that time that Jesus gets angry with the Pharisees for living lives that don’t look holy enough? Remember when he gets frustrated with his disciples because they aren’t picking up the new phrases he’s trying to get everyone to use so they are identified as his disciples? Remember when Jesus was worried that not enough people were seeing him do the miracles or coming out to hear him teach? Remember that time when Jesus said, “You just need to change the way you’re acting!”

 

Nope. You don’t remember any of that.

 

Jesus never cared about the outward behavior just for its own sake. That’s not to say he didn’t care about outward behavior or appearances, but what he cared about primarily was what those behaviors say about our hearts. His interest is not really in our actions, but the heart behind those actions.

 

So how did we get so lazy as to relegate spiritual growth in Christ to mean little more than changing our behavior? Since when is a following after the Messiah in a self-sacrificing way just about acting right and appearing to be committed?

 

But this is how we approach our own maturity sometimes isn’t it? And this is how we counsel others and “encourage” them to grow in their faith. We focus on the behaviors and tell them to do it differently.

 

“Stop losing your temper.”

“Quit thinking so lustfully.”

“Don’t have that attitude of bitterness.”

“Love him unconditionally.”

“Treat her with respect.”

“Be joyful in suffering.”

 

So what’s wrong with these statements? Aren’t they true? Shouldn’t we stop losing our temper? Should we quit thinking in such sinful ways? Shouldn’t we have a different attitude or love others better or live joyfully?

 

Yes we should! Without question this is a life that Jesus is calling us to live. So what’s the problem here?! Actually there are several problems with the way we tend to approach sinful patterns in our lives. Let’s start with our focus. When we—or someone in our lives—is struggling with a sinful pattern of behavior we tend to see only that behavior. We tend to forget to look behind the action, to look in to the heart from which it comes. There is almost always a sin behind the sin.

 

Jesus, when speaking to the Pharisees in Matthew’s account says this:

 

“Woe to you, teachers of the law and Pharisees, you hypocrites! You clean the outside of the cup and dish, but inside they are full of greed and self-indulgence. Blind Pharisee! First clean the inside of the cup and dish, and then the outside also will be clean.”        Matthew 23:25-26

 

We focus on the outside of the cup—the behaviors that people see—and we forget that what really needs cleaned is the inside. The real problem lies within the heart.

 

It isn’t totally ridiculous for us to think this way. After all, this is how it works in every other aspect of our lives. You can’t clean your dishes at home this way. Cleaning the inside of the cup does nothing to get the outside clean. If this is how we cleaned our dishes we would not likely find many people willing to accept a dinner invitation from us!

 

But Jesus knows the truth: if we experience change at a heart level, behavioral change will follow.

 

Real change in our life never comes by merely addressing outward behaviors. We may find that we can stop certain activities, or start certain ways of thinking…for a time. But ultimately we’ll find ourselves back in the same rut, stuck in the same failures, battling the same heartaches. Is this the life Jesus called abundant? I don’t think any of us would argue for abundant life being little more than a cycle of momentary victories followed by continuous failures. We will always be sinners. True. And we will struggle against our sin nature all our days. True again. But does this mean real lasting change doesn’t happen? I would say absolutely not. Jesus seems interested in seeing us change in real and powerful ways. But his focus is not just on stopping this thing or no longer thinking that way. Jesus’ real interest is in our hearts. When those are clean the outside becomes clean as well. Our behaviors change when we are clean internally.

 

Real change that lasts is inside out. Jesus doesn’t start with what we see, but with what drives what we see.

 

This truth begs a lot of additional questions…

 

• What does this mean for battling sinful behaviors in my life? How do I confront and battle behaviors with the heart in view?
• Why not deal with the actions first so I’ll be cleared up to work on the heart stuff?
• What do we do from here? How do we draw out the heart based on the actions we see?
• How do we clean the heart (“the inside of the cup”)?

 

The good news is Jesus has answers for all of these questions. The Bible holds the answers. Real, personal change is possible. It begins with the heart. Over the next few posts I’ll be exploring the Biblical view of the heart and what it means for how we should live as sinners saved by grace.

 

he goes before us

So many things happened on that Thursday. The day right before Jesus was killed was indeed a busy one.

 

There were feet to wash. There was bread and wine to be given new meaning. There were prayers to pray and anguish to feel. There were hymns to sing and betrayal to be acted on. There was talk of death and promises.

 

In all of it, Jesus goes before us. He leads the way, showing us how to love well—even those who would betray us. He gives high and holy attention to the act of serving one another by serving those who had argued for place and position. He enlightens the disciples about the coming of his death and his willingness to go to it out of obedience. He gives us new traditions to practice so we never forget his body and his blood. He offers hope in the face of apparent tragedy.

 

He goes before us.

 

Jesus even leads the way in exposing our sin and waywardness. Even as he is about to die for us he acknowledges that we really aren’t up to the task of standing by him, remaining faithful, and unashamedly call him our Lord. He knows us.

 

Then Jesus said to them, “You will all fall away because of me this night. For it is written, ‘I will strike the shepherd, and the sheep of the flock will be scattered.’ But after I am raised up, I will go before you to Galilee.”      Matthew 26:31-32

 

But he promises, yet again on this Thursday, to go before us.

 

“But after I am raised up, I will go before you to Galilee.”

 

Even though all the disciples are going to fail him, even though they are all going to run when things go wrong, Jesus wants them to know that he’ll go before them. He’ll be ready to meet them. When it comes time for the resurrection reunion, Jesus will be there first.

 

Is there anything that underscores the beauty of the grace of Jesus like his willingness to bring us back to him when we sin? His leads us in our redemption.

 

He goes before us even in this. He died to make us his own and then he rushes ahead of the betrayers, the fear mongers, the embarrassed followers, to claim them as his own with love and the gift of peace.

 

This is Jesus, our Savior.

 

He goes before us in death, before us to defeat sin, before us in resurrection, before us in eternal glory. He is Jesus.

 

Christ has been raised from the dead, the firstfruits of those who have fallen asleep. For as by a man came death, by a man has come also the resurrection of the dead.           1 Corinthians 15:20-21

 

the cross

Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us also lay aside every weight, and sin which clings so closely, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us, looking to Jesus, the founder and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy that was set before him endured the cross, despising the shame, and is seated at the right hand of the throne of God.            Hebrews 12:1-2

 

“Why would they hang Jesus on something as wonderful as a cross?” 

That’s the question my daughters posed to me the other day as we talked about the death and resurrection of Jesus. 

They were scandalized to discover that the cross was such an instrument of torture. Baffled to find out that it’s only wonderful because of what Jesus did by dying on it. They had a few moments of difficulty getting their minds around the idea that a cross was always—in all cases—a terrible thing meant for terrible purposes. They had only thought of it in the context of what Jesus did on it; how he saved us by it. 

 

They see the cross and know that it was an awful and painful thing Jesus went through to die for us, but they see the cross and are thankful. They are encouraged. It brings to their minds thoughts of heaven and hope for painless days to come. They imagine days of resting on the Father’s lap and times of wrestling with him. “Do you think we could pin him down if we all ganged up on him at once?! I mean all of us—all the people in heaven?! 

They know that these hopes and dreams, these realities of the future, are only possible because of the cross, because of Jesus’ death and resurrection. They think of the cross and they think of all the hope and joy that it brings to us. 

And we know that Jesus endured the cross with joy. He endured this instrument of depravity and destruction, this tool that kills in such a deplorable way, robbing the dying of humanity and dignity even as they lose life. He endured this torturous device with joy. He despised its shame, bringing glory and eternity to bear in the hearts of humankind. 

He changed not only our thoughts of the cross, but also our future, our hope and even our very hearts. He took our shame and gave us his righteousness.  

We should never forget the wickedness of such a device—meant not only to kill, but torture in the dying. It reveals the deep darkness of humanity’s heart. It proves the point the Father has made: we need a Savior. We need redeeming. But we should also see the cross and think of the joy of Jesus, dying to bring us life. The Father took the curse of the cross and made it a hope, a joy, a freeing from the shame. 

Christ redeemed us from the curse of the law by becoming a curse for us—for it is written, “Cursed is everyone who is hanged on a tree”  Galatians 3:13

 

tears of the King

This is holy week. These are the days that lead up to the death and resurrection of Jesus. There is no more significant time than this. Everything we believe, everything we try to devote our lives to finds purpose and meaning in the events that culminate at the end of this week.

 

Paul the apostle says that if Jesus is not resurrected from the dead then we Christians should be pitied above all others (1 Cor. 15:19). We have set our hope here. We have set our identity in the resurrected One. This week we stop the regular, monotonous rhythms in favor of a few moments; brief times to reflect and remember. This week holds the key to all the hope: Jesus making his way to the cross; Jesus knowing where he is going; Jesus in reverent submission, sacrificing his holy, prefect self for ragged sinners who neither understand nor care. God in perfect love and ultimate sacrifice, bringing life to the lifeless.

 

In this we hope.

 

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________

 

During the days of Jesus’ life on earth, he offered up prayers and petitions with fervent cries and tears to the one who could save him from death, and he was heard because of his reverent submission. Son though he was, he learned obedience from what he suffered and, once made perfect, he became the source of eternal salvation for all who obey him and was designated by God to be high priest in the order of Melchizedek.   Hebrews 5:7-10

 

I have tried to find words for the tears of Jesus. But how do you write about the grief of the Almighty?

I wrote in abstract, and then I wrote in the matter of fact. I wrote a poem, and then I wrote a story. I wrote and deleted, wrote and deleted.

 

The simple fact is, Jesus coming to earth—God in flesh, living among us, living to die—these realties mean Jesus weeps.

 

“…fervent cries and tears…”

 

There are no words for the Creator crying over his creation. Crying not just because it’s gone all wrong. Crying not just because it isn’t as it should be—us living in wicked rebellion and lost-ness. But crying because he loves greatly and fervently and even to the point of death. Crying for the Self-inflicted pain to bring Self-glory and our worship.

 

Putting that to words? They just all end up sounding childish or obscene in the face of such grace and love.

The Son of the Most High learning obedience in suffering. The Almighty Messiah in reverent submission. The grief of perfect love does wild and reckless things—reckless by the standards of earthly wisdom. There are not words because there is not the ability to wrap our minds fully around a love so pure and perfect and full of glory. That God would love us so much that he would not simply find a way for us to reach him, but would give himself to save us. Not a love that says, “I can’t watch you self-destruct so I’ll wipe the slate clean and start again.” But a love that says, “You have no hope in yourself. I will pay the price for you. I will die myself, so that you can live in me.”

 

As we focus on Jesus making his way to the cross this week it is good and right for us to remember that as he walked this earth he did so offering up prayers and petitions with fervent cries and tears.

 

How could we be loved this much? That the King of glory, strong and mighty, would weep for the lost? And not just weep, but the Creator enters creation and dies for the sin of those who do not even love him!

 

The source of eternal salvation, the Son of reverent submission, who learned obedience, suffered death—this is our King of glory. Our King of tears.