Arise my darling, my beautiful one, and follow Me.

-Song of Songs 2:10














Monday, April 18, 2011

Two Words





“What shall I do, then, with Jesus who is called the Messiah?” Pilate asked.
They all answered, “Crucify Him!”
“Why? What crime has He committed?” asked Pilate.
But they shouted all the louder, “Crucify Him!”
-Matthew 27:22-23



It comes as a whisper.

A spoken thought between a smattering in the crowd. Almost an afterthought from the discussion in the governor’s hall. What to do with this man who claims to be king?

It comes again. Joined by more voices, a little louder, a little more certain. Two words. They resound off the walls, swimming through the sound waves to hit the remaining sea of people gathered at the hearing. It is a terrifying concert.
“Crucify Him!”

Pilate looks through this swarm of faces. Do they understand what they are saying? The release of a malicious prisoner for the life of a Lamb?

He pleads before them. “Are you certain of your decision? Do you need more time to think it over?”

They answer quickly. “Crucify Him!” Octaves rise, tempers boil. The man before them, the one staring with gentle, unnerving eyes, claims to be the Messiah. He promised to save Israel, to lead His people. But He did not ascend to the throne, did not give the masses the change they hoped for. Instead, He spoke of things like “living water” and a narrow gate to a wide open eternity. He preached love your neighbor and turn the other cheek. So He’ll get the other cheek, all right. In their maddening murmurs: “Crucify Him!”

Pilate’s reasoning falls on deaf ears, and with a resigned sigh, he acquiesces to their demand. Barabbas- free to roam the streets; Jesus- sentenced to die.

The crowd ignites in satisfactory screams, bolder by the verdict. And the convicted Comforter is led away to a windowless room, where a legion of soldiers flog and mock Him. A twisted crown of thorns. A scarlet robe. A staff in His right hand and sneers of, “Hail, King of the Jews!”

And then the cross. To crucify means to put to death by nailing or binding the wrists or hands and feet to a cross. It also means to destroy the power of; mortify, to treat cruelly. The Roman soldiers mean to strip every ounce of dignity and power from Jesus and turn His reason for coming to earth into a mockery. So they beat the nails into His skin, strap Him to two pieces of wood, and raise Him up on top of a hill. Then they cast lots for His garments and tease Him, tell Him that if He is truly the Son of God He could get Himself off of that cross.

The Son of God stays silent. His breathing is ragged, labored. Face swollen from multiple beatings, He is pinned straight up against a wooden wall, but through the slits of His eyes, He looks at each soldier and bystander, hears the insults hurled at His broken body. He hangs not for right now, to prove a point to those there to witness. He is hanging for the world. For those who walked the dusty streets of Samaria long before His heavenly sandals touched earth. And for those who have yet to arrive, making their home in a land across the Atlantic. He has every power to take Himself down and amaze the crowds. But He is doing the will of His Father.

His Father, who, as the sky rolls black and the air fills thick and heavy, cannot even look at Him, His Son, stained with the sins of humanity.

Jesus lifts His eyes to heaven, breathing shallow. With the handful of air left in His lungs, He releases His Spirit, and the temple curtain tears in two.

The world is suspended in darkness.


Prayer:
Words cannot describe the events You went through to save me. I can’t even fathom the darkness and hurt that fell upon You, and the weight You carried on Your shoulders. All I can say is thank You.

Love Like That





God demonstrates His own love toward us, in that while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us. –Romans 5:8


The crowds. The echoing screams. The choice. They released a murderer and sent Him to the cross. As it was meant to be. Because while His face swelled with bruises and lips tasted sour vinegar, as His breathing labored and the sky draped itself in dreary mourning, your face flashed through His mind. Your name rested on His tongue, which was parched and took every last ounce to utter words that sealed fate: “It is finished.” Then He dropped his head, crown of thorns wrapped in matted hair, and the temple curtain tore in two, breaking the barrier between your spot in darkness and the welcoming embrace from the mighty Creator of the heavens and earth. For while He fought sin, became immersed in every thought, word and action you would cast, He know the trade was worth it. Worth the pain and humility this lowly death would take to raise you up with Him into eternity. He chose the blows that bled His breath from His lungs, because He saw the love of the Father reflected in your clear, searching eyes, begging to be rescued.

So He fought. Laid His life down for you to lift yours to sit at His right hand, the hand that held the nails and secured your salvation.

You’ve never experienced a love like that before. I guarantee it.


Prayer:
Thank You for thinking of me while I was not yet a glimpse in this life. Thank You for the nails, and for the battle against death won to save me from my sins. Please let me remember how You love, so I may show that love to others around me. Amen.

Monday, April 4, 2011

Consuming Fire




For the Lord your God is a consuming fire, a jealous God.
-Deuteronomy 4:24



I want you.

All of you. Not just an arm or an eye; every limb, every artery, every sinew tying you together. I want your hair, the way it falls across your face, the way you push it back, the strands that have fallen to the floor from chemo. I want you dressed up for the occasion, dressed down just lounging. Your skin- I want that, too. Wrinkles and all. The lines beneath your eyes from being up all night caring for your children? I find them fascinating.

I want you on your sunny days, when the light of your smile carries for miles. I want you in the rain, shoulders sagging, wondering what more on this earth you could possibly do. Brimming to the top with life or running on empty and working with every fiber in your being to stay afloat- I want your heart crying out to Me. I want you clinging to Me like I’m the only life vest and your boat is sinking.

Your excitement- I want it framed on My mantle. Your frustration- I want it bottled so I can throw it into the sea and never have it touch you again. Any doubt you carry? Give it to Me. I’ll turn it to definite.

I want your mood swings, your discomfort, your deepest disbeliefs. I want to be the song you sing along to on the radio in the middle of the afternoon, the inside joke with your best friend and your favorite flavor of ice cream.

I want your eyes on Me, shining, sparkling with love. Because frankly, I am jealous. I don’t want to share you with another. No other person, no other thought, no other object. I want you heart, body and soul. And I want it all right now.

I gave My Son’s life for you. I poured out my passion for you to feel. I don’t want you to skate through this life on half promises and wonder what’s missing. I want you to look to Me in every star, every breath, every beat of your pining heart because I know that you’ll find yourself overflowing with My love if you allow Me to consume you like you consume My thoughts. Your name is on My lips; taste and see that Mine sounds as sweet flowing from yours.


Prayer:
Heavenly Father, thank You for being the lover of my soul. Thank You for wanting me, wanting all of me with no distraction. Thank You that I am always on Your mind, and help me to continuously place You on mine. I want You to be fully consumed by my thoughts, words and deeds. Amen.

Sunday, April 3, 2011

Enthralled





The King is enthralled by your beauty; honor Him, for He is your Lord.
-Psalm 45:11



You wonder who you are, burning a hole in the mirror with your eyes in assessment, trying to bring all your faults to the surface. You should have known better, you think, noting the slight droop of your chin and chip in your stare. Should have known to keep your head held down when you stumbled upon them in the park, shouldn’t have lifted your eyes to see the way they laughed in the lilacs, the way his eyes glinted off her face.

You rub your hands against your stomach, as if your palm was a magic wand that could smooth away the wrinkles and flatten your middle like an iron. Maybe you just weren’t meant to be noticed.

Oh, but my darling, you are! You are meant to be exposed in such a light, by such a Man. Someone who sees the way you press on when you don’t have the energy to move, Who sees you, sweet to your coworkers and the old woman across the street, how your crystal eyes swell with hope each day they lift open to the world. You are admired, you are smiled upon with every beat of your heart.

See this, precious one. Shine your light into the dark, rest in the arms of your Knight who has come to save you. For you are His princess, His sparkling treasure in His kingdom. He sees your reflection and is taken by your beauty.


Prayer:
Lord, You see me. Every crack, every spot that I see blemished, You find it perfect. You are captivated by me, and I bask in the glow You cast on me. Thank You for taking me as Your own. Amen.