a return and some thoughts on grieving well

It has been six months (almost exactly) since last I wrote something here. It was an intentional and needed rest from writing, but now the time seems right to begin again. Hopefully you’ll join me on this journey, reading my words and then sharing your own thoughts in response.

As a way of starting again I wanted share something I wrote the other day for my local church family. As a church we find ourselves gathering around a dear and precious family who has experienced the great loss of their 11 month old daughter who was battling cancer. It is a tragic loss that wreaks of the wrongness of sin and death in our world. As a response to these events I simply wrote a few thoughts regarding the pursuit of grieving well. As an American I have long since been convinced that our culture has no concept of how to practice this well. Below you’ll find my initial thoughts on grieving well. There is more to say certainly, but this is a start.

For those of you reading who are not American, I would love to hear your thoughts on grief within your own cultures.

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Times of great loss and sorrow seem to highlight the fact that as a culture, Americans are poorly equipped for grieving. It is not something we are taught how to approach and certainly not something we have learned to value. We however, are the Body of Christ, his chosen people, his royal priesthood and as such we should make intentional steps towards this practice of grieving well. We are called to grieve in ways distinct from those who don’t have the hope of Christ (1 Thessalonians 4:13).

I wanted to simply offer a few thoughts on grieving well with those who are in the midst of loss. How do we approach those who are grieving and what does it look like to live in that tension of being a people who both have great hope and also suffer deep loss? This isn’t a “how to” or some definitive final word on grief. It is simply a few thoughts to consider and some ways to be intentional and biblical as we respond. 

1)    Be present not wise

In the book of Job we find Job’s friends coming to his side at his time of great loss and suffering. So much of the book of Job is filled with their conversations that it can be easy to miss the significant reality of their presence. The friends of Job sat in silence with him for seven days before speaking a word.

And when they saw him from a distance, they did not recognize him. And they raised their voices and wept, and they tore their robes and sprinkled dust on their heads toward heaven. And they sat with him on the ground seven days and seven nights, and no one spoke a word to him, for they saw that his suffering was very great.       Job 2:12-13

They raised their voices in weeping, but not in an attempt to offer advice or counsel—not for a whole week. There is mighty power in simply being present with one who is grieving the loss of a loved one. Our willingness to sit patiently with them while they weep and remember and rant is an act of great love. So often when we see those in grief we are tempted to give our best counsel, our wisest words. The truth is that often we are motivated to do this mainly because it makes us feel better. The friends of Job loved him enough to wait for him to speak; they waited until he was ready.

When you see those suffering great loss give them a long hug, sit down beside them, be present. Don’t be tempted to put your wisdom on display.

2)    Be of the Truth

When the time does come to speak to those in grief fight the urge to say whatever comes to mind, to just speak flowery words that carry no depth. Speak biblical truth, speak words of Scripture. Psalm 119:25 reads, “My soul clings to the dust; give me life according to your word!” There is an understanding here that God’s words carry life. They draw our souls from the dirt and revive us.

 Before you go to the side of those in grief, pray for biblical wisdom from God. Spend a few moments in your Bible considering what you might share and then when you see them, share those words. Don’t be drawn into the desire to use Scripture as a springboard into your own commentary on what it means and how it applies. Just speak truth, and let the power of God’s own words sink deep into the soul of the hearer. Feel free to share your own sorrow and grief, your own memories of their lost loved ones, but also be sure you are offering them a balm for their soul. The words of Scripture can soothe better than any words you or I could come up with on our own.

3)    Be a long sufferer 

Some of the older Bible translations use the word longsuffering instead of the word patience that most modern translations opt for (like Galatians 5:22 which describes the fruit of the Spirit). I think this word longsuffering provides and incredibly significant image when it comes to loving well those who are in grief. The tragic reality is that in our culture most people have a very limited tolerance for engaging with those who are grieving great loss. It’s not that we don’t love those who are grieving, but the reality is that it is incredibly painful and difficult to continue weeks and months later to sit patiently and cry together. It’s painful to consistently remember with them those lost loved ones. To listen and talk with them as they go through deeper pain than we may be prepared to identify with. To grieve well with our brothers and sisters takes great patience. It is an act of longsuffering.

We need to be in prayer that God, by his Spirit, would develop in us a depth of patience that could be described as longsuffering. That we would be made ready for the long journey of grieving that lies ahead. That our hearts would grow in capacity, that we would become a people of mercy and compassion that we could never be on our own. 

4)    Be hopeful

We are a people of hope. We know that Jesus is coming again, that those who are found in him will experience life without end; that death will be dealt the final blow removing any influence it has on our lives. We know that we are looking to a better home, that God has prepared us for this very thing. We should cling to that and proclaim that to each other always. 

For we know that if the tent that is our earthly home is destroyed, we have a building from God, a house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens. For in this tent we groan, longing to put on our heavenly dwelling, if indeed by putting it on we may not be found naked. For while we are still in this tent, we groan, being burdened—not that we would be unclothed, but that we would be further clothed, so that what is mortal may be swallowed up by life. He who has prepared us for this very thing is God, who has given us the Spirit as a guarantee. So we are always of good courage. We know that while we are at home in the body we are away from the Lord, for we walk by faith, not by sight.              2 Corinthians 5:1-7

the bride

This is the summer of weddings for my family. We’ve attended two in recent weeks and have so many more in the months ahead that it’s hard to keep them all straight. It seems we are blessed to be in relationship with a great number of people who are taking that step into married life right about now!

 

All these weddings have been bringing to my mind the image of Christ and his church—this idea that we are the bride of Christ. I keep finding it making its way into my conversations. I keep relating my opinions to other believers back to this hope and future. I find myself considering the implications of our relationship with Christ being compared to that of a marriage. I believe it should be noted as an evidence of God’s grace anytime we find the circumstances of life bringing certain passages from Scripture—or certain images it portrays—repeatedly to the forefront of our minds. Weddings should always do this for us. Just as husband and wife are made one flesh so the Bible speaks of Christ and his church being made one. Each time we gather and watch the bride being united with her husband I am reminded: this is our hope. This is our goal. It’s great perspective and it’s a beautiful reminder of our future destiny.

 

When Paul writes the Corinthian church he has concern that the church not lose sight of this perspective. He wants them to live with this future in view. His specific concern for them comes from the danger of being led astray to teachings that are false, but I think the general warning to remember that we are being made ready, that we are promised to Christ, is critical for us all.

 

 

I hope you will put up with me in a little foolishness. Yes, please put up with me!  I am jealous for you with a godly jealousy. I promised you to one husband, to Christ, so that I might present you as a pure virgin to him.  But I am afraid that just as Eve was deceived by the serpent’s cunning, your minds may somehow be led astray from your sincere and pure devotion to Christ.  2 Corinthians 11:1-3

  

Paul is calling on the church to remember what it’s all about. What are we doing here? What are we hoping for?

 

We are promised to Christ. The goal of this life is preparation. We are constantly being prepared for the day when we will be presented to him. All the struggles and disappointments of life, all the blessings and victories; everything in life is making us ready for that day. It’s all preparation for being made one with Christ in full completion.

 

This is who we are, this is what we hope for, this is why we live; just as a bride is made ready for the day of uniting with her husband so we are being made ready. This can admittedly be an awkward concept for a guy to wrap his mind around. We are the bride?! There is something “macho” within us that wants to balk at this imagery. But if we consider the husband and wife, the uniting and being made one, it is beautiful and should give us great hope and joy. To be made one with Christ—there is no greater destiny than this!

 

 

Let us rejoice and be glad
   and give him glory!
For the wedding of the Lamb has come,
   and his bride has made herself ready.
Fine linen, bright and clean,
   was given her to wear.”             Revelation 19:7-8

 

What a beautiful wedding day our future holds; a wedding like none other! This should give us hope for tomorrow and strength for today. This picture gives me a great deal of new found love for weddings. They are always reminding me of the future, of our promise, of our hope. There is a great wedding in our future, and it should bring definition to how we live in the present.

 

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.

 

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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.

 

you are my son

At that time Jesus came from Nazareth in Galilee and was baptized by John in the Jordan. Just as Jesus was coming up out of the water, he saw heaven being torn open and the Spirit descending on him like a dove. And a voice came from heaven: “You are my Son, whom I love; with you I am well pleased.”          Mark 1:9-11

 

Father, Son and Spirit.

 

It’s not often in the Bible that all three are mentioned together. It’s not often that the Trinity shows up in full representation.

 

On top of that, the Father is speaking audibly. Again, we don’t get this often in the Bible. Especially when God speaks and a whole crowd of people can hear—at least we assume they can. Nothing in Mark’s gospel suggests that only Jesus, or only Jesus and John the Baptist could hear the Father. He speaks and the crowds hear.

 

And the message on such a special encounter?

 

You are my Son.

I love you.

I am well pleased with you.

 

God could have said anything. This could have been the moment to warn people about sin. This could have been a chance to declare that everyone worship him. Literally, it could have been a time for God to say anything; to convince people that Jesus should be followed; to warn everyone about how they would all get so fickle and choose to call for the crucifixion of Jesus. Anything!

 

But the Father makes a declaration of love for his Son. The Father wants everyone to know he is pleased with his Son.

 

You are my Son.

I love you.

I am well pleased with you.

 

This is the God we serve. This is the God we love. He loves his Son. That’s what he wants us to know when Jesus is baptized. That’s what God wants us to know after years and years of silence. Since the prophet’s words had last been given it had been hundreds of years; then John the Baptist comes. Then comes Jesus.

 

And here, in the midst of the Jordan. The Son is dipped down into the water, the Spirit descends from the heavens and the voice of the Father proclaims,

 

You are my Son.

I love you.

I am well pleased with you.

 

What a day. What a moment. What a beginning. And the world would never be the same.

 

This is how God showed his love among us: He sent his one and only Son into the world that we might live through him. This is love: not that we loved God, but that he loved us and sent his Son as an atoning sacrifice for our sins.      1 John 4:9-10

when God is hard on us

You have rejected us, O God, and broken our defenses.
You have been angry with us; now restore us to your favor.

You have shaken our land and split it open.
Seal the cracks, for the land trembles.

You have been very hard on us,
making us drink wine that sent us reeling.

But you have raised a banner for those who fear you—
a rallying point in the face of attack.     

Now rescue your beloved people.
Answer and save us by your power.

Psalm 60:1-5

 

Sometimes we aren’t who we thought we were. Sometimes circumstances reveal weaknesses we thought were gone.

 

Sometimes things don’t go the way we planned them. Sometimes all our best efforts fall far short of what we knew could be.

 

Sometimes people aren’t what we wanted them to be. Sometimes tragedies befall and life feels unfair.

 

There is a tendency—when we see disappointing things within ourselves, or failures we keep returning after; when people keep failing us, or plans just don’t come together; anytime that pain interrupts our pursuit of the happy and the easy—there is a tendency. We tend to assume that God forgot or just didn’t come through; tend to cry foul, to claim that God is being unfair. After all, if God is really good, how could so much difficulty be allowed?

 

There are all sorts of theological issues with this way of thinking, not least of which is our presumption that somehow we have a full understanding of what is best and what is right and what is good. I love the way Psalm 60 opens up, because it reminds that sometimes the very things we don’t want—the difficulties we face—are orchestrated by God to bring about something within us.

 

We make a grave mistake when we categorize all things we consider unpleasant or undesirable as evil. This is not to say that so much evil doesn’t exist in our world. It does. And it’s not to say that we should pretend to enjoy hardships or falsely proclaim happiness at the times when God is, as verse 3 says, “very hard on us.” We should, however, recognize, that sometimes God shakes the land. Sometimes God does break us apart, cause us to tremble, and brings down our defenses.

 

 Sometimes God is very hard on us.

 

God is raising a banner—a rallying point—and his name is Jesus. God wants to rescue us from ourselves, from our sin, from this world, from our plans and agendas and he has no problem bringing to rubble anything that causes us to lose sight of the fact that Jesus is the only saving there is for us. He won’t hesitate to bring to light anything—be it ever so painful or embarrassing—that will remind us of our need for his grace.

 

If we never feel the attack we lose sight of the rescuer and the rallying point. If we never feel the pressure we easily convince ourselves that we’ve “got this” and can handle that. Thankfully, God has no problem with shaking the walls and ensuring we feel the attacks so we come running back to him. So we cry out for him to save and him to restore. 

 

God has at times been hard on us. And he will be again–for our own good. Thankfully, God has also raised the banner and his name is Jesus.

 

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As a personal aside, I would greatly appreciate your prayers over the next nine days. I will be leaving tomorrow morning for England, where I will spend those nine days with Church planters seeking to bring the gospel of Jesus to England. In the last 250 years Europe is the only part of the world that has seen Christianity decrease. They desperately need the gospel there and I will be spending time with those who’ve been called by God to till the hard soil. My purpose is to learn from them, to encourage them, and simply to better understand how we can support them. It’s a great privilege for me to be a part of this and I would so appreciate knowing that you are praying.

 

ransom for the empty

For you know that God paid a ransom to save you from the empty life you inherited from your ancestors. And the ransom he paid was not mere gold or silver. It was the precious blood of Christ, the sinless, spotless Lamb of God. God chose him as your ransom long before the world began, but he has now revealed him to you in these last days.      1 Peter 1:18-20

 

Ransom for my empty life—that’s what it comes down to.

 

My life without Jesus. Empty. My goals, my pursuits, my interests. Empty.

 

My hope, my ability to “help myself,” my satisfaction and purpose in life…all empty without the ransom. Without the blood.

 

How can it be that God would so overpay for such trinkets as us? We aren’t worth the cost. We aren’t worth the required payment of our debt. Sin required blood. My sin required blood. And the blood of goats and sheep and doves just wasn’t cutting it. The spotless Lamb of God, that’s the price.

 

And God pays?! God sends his Son for us?

 

Who pays for what’s empty and broken and worthless with the greatest of treasure?

 

Only the Father of perfect love. Only the Creator of those gone wayward. Only the One who can love rebel sinners too easily swayed by the lesser and the momentary and the created.

 

Who does this? Only God our Father who decided and planned and set it all in place before he even began to create us. It’s difficult to get my mind around this kind of love and depth of commitment. He chose to create us knowing the cost of saving us. It boggles the mind of this little sinner who seems to know nothing of true love for another.

 

I pray that by this grace given I will learn. For I know that God paid a ransom to save me from my empty life. There is no more outrageous or better news to be found.

 

The King’s ransom for my empty life.

 

love the Father well

So think clearly and exercise self-control. Look forward to the gracious salvation that will come to you when Jesus Christ is revealed to the world. So you must live as God’s obedient children. Don’t slip back into your old ways of living to satisfy your own desires. You didn’t know any better then. But now you must be holy in everything you do, just as God who chose you is holy. For the Scriptures say, “You must be holy because I am holy.”     1 Peter 1:13-16

 

It’s an uncomfortable balance, this salvation by grace and the call to be holy. We are saved because of nothing we do. We don’t earn it, we aren’t worth it, we don’t deserve it. There is nothing to work out…and yet there is everything to work out. We are called to be holy, to think clearly, to be and do all sorts of things. It’s awkward. It tempts us to focus on self and think in terms of what we do instead of who is working in us.

 

Peter helps us along the way.

 

Right in the midst of his call to be holy Peter reminds us to look forward to the salvation that Jesus Christ is bringing. The reminder, for me, is the very clear distinction regarding why we are called to be holy. The actions we are called to display are not about our salvation, they are about our love. Behaving as children of the light is not about the position of our soul—we are positionally set right with our Father when we accept Jesus as the Son of God and our Savior. Behaving as children of the light is about loving our Father well.

 

We are called to live as obedient children. Obedience is how we show love for our Father.

 

All who love me will do what I say…     John 14:23

 

We are called to stop living simply to satisfy our own desires.

 

You do not belong to yourself, for God bought you with a high price. So you must honor God with your body.    1 Corinthians 6:19-20

 

Our call to be holy is not about earning and it’s not about proving worth. It’s about loving the one who loves us. It’s about being in relationship with the holy God of heaven. He has given us his Son and asked that we give him our lives. If we are looking forward the salvation that will come to us when Jesus Christ is revealed, this call to give him all will begin to be recognized for the small sacrifice it truly is.

 

Come now children, let us live in obedience. Let us love the Father well.

 

uncomfortable grace

So be truly glad. There is wonderful joy ahead, even though you have to endure many trials for a little while. These trials will show that your faith is genuine. It is being tested as fire tests and purifies gold—though your faith is far more precious than mere gold. So when your faith remains strong through many trials, it will bring you much praise and glory and honor on the day when Jesus Christ is revealed to the whole world. You love him even though you have never seen him. Though you do not see him now, you trust him; and you rejoice with a glorious, inexpressible joy. The reward for trusting him will be the salvation of your souls.                   1 Peter 1:6-9

  

Be truly glad while in trials? How is it that knowing that wonderful joy is ahead can bring me joy now? It’s tempting to simply write these things off as simply being for those who are “further along” than we are. Or, we could learn to think of our trials in a different light. We could choose to see what God is doing when we are hurting. Recently I listened to Paul Tripp preach on the something he called uncomfortable grace. It makes so much sense when reading verses like this.

 

Here’s what Tripp says:

 

We had better begin to teach and encourage and comfort one another with the theology of uncomfortable grace. Because often times this side of eternity grace comes to us in uncomfortable forms. I long for the grace of relief and I long for the grace of release and some day that will actually come. But right now I need the grace of refinement. I need to be changed. I need to be transformed. I need to become a person of faith…And so in love God will take me beyond my wisdom, beyond my strength, beyond the bounds of my character, beyond my righteousness. And he will cause me to throw myself on him. That’s not God forgetting me or beating me up or being unfaithful and un-attentive. The Bible calls that grace. I’m being rescued. I’m being restored. I’m being changed. He loves me and he will not turn from his work. He will continue and continue and continue until that work is complete. That’s grace.

 

So I should be truly glad. I should be genuinely thankful in trials. Not because the trials are fun—they are heart-rending. Not because I get morbid satisfaction from suffering. I should find joy because I know that in everything God, and God alone, will see me through. Because in all of it I can know that God in his grace gives me what I need to make me into who I should become. Because I know that in grace God loves me enough to allow me hardship in order that I will experience rescue. Not just ultimate rescue someday when I die and go to heaven, but rescue today as well. Rescue from my inattention and waywardness.

 

The truth is that the moments of difficulty in my life aren’t evidence that God has forgotten or abandoned or simply isn’t real. The hardships are sure signs of his redemptive love. Sure signs that he is continuing at his work of refining me. It is so fitting to call this uncomfortable grace. I don’t like this. I don’t want this. But I do want what comes from it—God working to change my heart. That is indeed grace even if it comes uncomfortably into my life.

 

I cannot genuinely say thank to God when I am suffering loss or pain. It would be a lie. I’m not thankful for pain. I’m not thankful when people hurt me or when they die or when the broken world wields its wicked destruction my way. I am not thankful when my own sin creates consequences my soul cannot bear.  I am not thankful when those I love suffer. But I am thankful that God is using whatever means necessary to transform me. I can thank him for what he is doing in my pain. I can genuinely thank him for this uncomfortable grace that transforms my soul. To think that God is taking my heartache and suffering and turning it into something beautiful and redemptive—this is more than I deserve.

 

You love him even though you have never seen him. Though you do not see him now, you trust him; and you rejoice with a glorious, inexpressible joy. The reward for trusting him will be the salvation of your souls.

 

expectation

All praise to God, the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ. It is by his great mercy that we have been born again, because God raised Jesus Christ from the dead. Now we live with great expectation, and we have a priceless inheritance—an inheritance that is kept in heaven for you, pure and undefiled, beyond the reach of change and decay. And through your faith, God is protecting you by his power until you receive this salvation, which is ready to be revealed on the last day for all to see.                           1 Peter 1:3-5

 

 

Great expectation. Is that how I live? Is that the way I started this day?

 

No. I started this day with a grumble of being too tired. I started with a sense of the mundane. It is, after all, just a Tuesday. And what really happens of any significance on a Tuesday? Maybe great things in the lives of others, but for me, it’s often just a Tuesday.

 

But God has shown great mercy. God has given re-birth. I was dead, now I’m alive. Priceless inheritance beyond the reach of decay and it’s mine! It’s waiting for me! God is protecting me by his power. How could this day be thought of as mundane? How could it be boring? How could I not live in great expectation?

 

Because I forget. Because I know and yet I don’t remember. Because I am too easily satisfied and settle for today being just a Tuesday. Because something within me lies and tells me I’m just being mature—there’s no need to get all giddy with excitement over what God’s done, he knows I’m grateful. There’s no sense in expecting too much from another ordinary day, I’ll just end it with disappointment. It’s too hard to learn how to have the right kind of expectations—the lasting ones that don’t center around my appetites for the momentary. It’s too much work to set myself aside and consider the Savior who gives this great expectation to the day.

 

And that’s just it. I’ve forgotten to look beyond myself. I’ve forgotten to behold the one who takes away my sin and sets my feet on the path to life and freedom. John the Baptist calls out to those who encounter Christ and the call is simple: Behold him.

 

Behold, the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world!   John 1:29

 

A lot of translations just say “Look” and that’s fine, but the word behold I think better captures the sense of the call. It’s not a casual glance, it’s not just seeing him when someone says, “Hey look at him.” It’s continuous looking and perceiving and receiving who he is: the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world. It’s being changed by the reality of who he is and what he’s done.

 

Behold him. Not just at the moment I prayed a prayer and asked for forgiveness. Not just on Sundays and maybe if I read the Bible a few times during the week. Behold him—Jesus. Behold him today and every day. Behold him when I rise in the morning and during the drive into work. Behold him at my lunch hour and during that difficult conversation with a critic. Behold him when I sit around the table with my family, deal with obstinate children or tuck them into bed and see them sleep so peacefully. Behold him when I laugh with my wife, disagree with a friend or lay myself down to rest. Behold the Lamb. See him, consider him, rejoice for he has given himself to take away our sin.

 

How can I not live in great expectation when I am beholding the one who is God’s Lamb? The one who is my salvation? The one who established this inheritance beyond the reach of decay and set me under the protecting power of God? How can I not live in great expectation when I know that I am still waiting for that last day, that final revelation of all the Lamb has accomplished. How can I not live this way knowing today could be the day? Or is it tomorrow? Or the next day?

 

All of life should be seen and lived  as on the precipice of greatness beyond imagination because I live it reborn into the forgiveness of the Lamb. Do I not see him? Am I not beholding him? If I were, surely my life would show it. Surely I would spill over with expectation and gratefulness.

 

Behold Jesus, the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world.

 

he sends himself

In the beginning the Word already existed.
The Word was with God,
and the Word was God.

He existed in the beginning with God.

God created everything through him,
and nothing was created except through him.

The Word gave life to everything that was created,
and his life brought light to everyone.

The light shines in the darkness,
and the darkness can never extinguish it.

                                                                                    John 1:1-5

 

Sometimes I think it’s easy to miss the full magnificence of Jesus’ coming. It’s not that we don’t appreciate him, but I think we can forget what God really did; who Jesus really is. He can be too easily rendered as the second in command. The title “Son” might imply to us that he’s a little less, a little beneath, a little behind the Father. He’s the representative right?

 

But John makes it clear. God didn’t send his second to come and rescue us—although even that would be wildly beyond what we deserved! God sent God to us. God sent himself.

 

The Word—Jesus—was with God, and the Word was God.

 

He existed in the beginning with God. So, Jesus was there at the start and helped the Father create the world? Nope. God created everything through him…nothing was created except through him. Jesus didn’t “help” create, he was the creator. Through him came life and shape and form and light. Through him came everything that’s here now or was here then or will be here ever.

 

The Word—Jesus—gave life to everything.

 

So let’s get this straight, not just in our heads, but in our hearts. This isn’t just an exercise of the brain this is an investment of the heart. Let’s be changed by this truth. Jesus created everything. Jesus as fully God as the Father is God came to rescue us from our self-inflicted, fully deserved depravity. God sent himself.

 

The one who created the womb of Mary entered that womb to come out into the world he had fashioned and given life to. The one who gave life allowed those living to take life from him. The God who existed from all eternity entered time, allowed himself to be confined and restricted by that time and space—of his own making—so as to rescue the creatures he made from the death they not only deserve, but don’t even think they want to be rescued from.

 

Just last night, reflecting on this love of God, my own son declared incredulously, “It just makes no sense that he would do that!”

 

No, it doesn’t. Thankfully.  Because I don’t want what makes sense. I don’t want what’s fair. I don’t even want what I think I want.

 

I want God’s wildly ridiculous love. I want the gospel story. I want Jesus tearing out of the gates of heaven with reckless abandon to do what just makes no sense. I want him giving his life for those who love darkness more than his light. I want transformation and change and newness and what’s best for me. Even when what’s best for me is given while I’m kicking and screaming and proclaiming that I want my own thing and my own way instead.

 

Because in the end, I really don’t want what I want. I never have. It always disappoints. It’s always lets me down. In the end, I want what I need. I don’t want to be who I am; I want to be who he sees and who he intended me to be. I don’t want what I can make myself into; I want what he can transform me into. I want life and hope and forgiveness. I want to be new.

 

It just makes no sense that God would send himself on what the world would call a fool’s errand. To save the unworthy. To give his own life for people not worth the effort or sacrifice. And yet he did. He did because he loves. He did because his glory can’t be contained and his mercy can’t be squelched and he will be known for all his greatness. He did it because he’s God.

 

 

For God in all his fullness
was pleased to live in Christ,

and through him God reconciled
everything to himself.
He made peace with everything in heaven and on earth
by means of Christ’s blood on the cross.

                                                                                    Colossians 1:19-20