Devotions

If there is anything that we should be reminded of in the days leading up to Resurrection Sunday, it is how much Christ Jesus loves us. It was Paul’s prayer for the Ephesians that they grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ.  He wanted them (and us) to know this love that surpasses knowledge.

“I pray that out of his glorious riches he may strengthen you with power through his Spirit in your inner being, so that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith. And I pray that you, being rooted and established in love, may have power, together with all the saints, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, and to know this love that surpasses knowledge-that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God.” [Eph 3:16-19]

I’ve read the Gospel accounts of Gethsemane, the trials, the torture and mockery, and the events of the cross.  I know about them. I know how Jesus prayed, how many trials there were and before whom they were conducted. I can describe the torture and even how Jesus’ body responded on the cross. I also know the words He spoke there.

I know. But…it is only when I allow myself to “feel between the lines” that I begin to grasp the scope of the love that is buried within. That’s when “knowledge” drops the 18-inches from my head to my heart.

How wide is the love of Christ Jesus? Wide enough to sweat drops of blood across Gethsemane. How long? Long enough to last throughout eternity. How high? High enough to be lifted up from the earth on a rough wooden cross.  How deep? Deep enough to bear the nail wounds, the crown of thorns beaten deep into His Head, and the sword that pierced His side.  All. For. Us

“We all, like sheep, have gone astray, each of us has turned to our own way; and the Lord has laid on him [Jesus] the iniquity of us all.”    [Isaiah 53:6]

How often have I heard people tell me, “It’s not fair!”  Something has entered their life that they believe they don’t deserve. They are stunned by the unfairness of it. Many times, they are right, it really is not fair. But then, I remind them, and myself¸ that life isn’t fair. We expect justice, righteousness, peace, life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness, especially in our nation. And often, we get everything but.

However, I haven’t heard too many people claim that “It’s not fair” after they read Isaiah 53:6. The prophet reminds us that each of us … every one of us … has turned to our own way.  We want to live our lives the way we want to live our lives, no interference from anyone, not even from God.  We have that defiant toddler-spirit “No!” engrained in us.

When the prophet reminds us that The Father laid on Jesus all our iniquity, we aren’t so quick to say, “It’s not fair!” And yet, this is the most “unfair” event in all of eternity. God took the sins of all of us and laid them on His sinless Son, Christ Jesus, so that the Father’s House could become our house, and we could become His adopted sons and daughters.

“For [God] made [Jesus] who knew no sin to be sin for us, that we might become the righteousness of God in Him.” [2 Cor 5:21 NKJV]

It doesn’t seem fair, does it?  But, oh, so, precious for us.

“But he [Jesus] was pierced for our transgressions, he was crushed for our iniquities; the punishment that brought us peace was on him, and by his wounds we are healed.”  [Isaiah 53:5]

His punishment brought us peace. His wounds brought us healing.

No longer are we at war with our Creator. Jesus opened the way for us to become sons and daughters of “Abba, Father.”  He did that when He offered Himself as our sacrifice on that cross. He drank the bitter cup that should have been ours to drink. He was pierced for our transgressions; He was crushed because of our sins.

No longer do we lie wounded and broken on the ground of mankind’s rebellion. The wounds Jesus suffered bring healing to our spirits, our souls and sometimes even our bodies.  The sin sickness in which we lived found healing in the wounds of our Savior.

I know I’ve spent a lot of time lately around the sufferings of Jesus. For me, now, that is a good thing. I often focus solely on the benefits that are mine and yours as Children of “Abba, Father.” I focus on the comfort, the peace, the renewal and restoration. I focus on the promised blessings of heaven and the Presence of our LORD.  And that is a good thing to focus on since life here often drains us of the good.

But we must never become so jaded that we accept the blessings without remembering their cost. They may be free to us … but the price that our LORD Christ Jesus bore was a heavy one. He was pierced, crushed, punished and wounded so that we could be saved.  Praise His Holy Name!

“Yet He [Jesus] Himself bore our sicknesses and He carried our pains, but we in turn regarded Him stricken, struck down by God and afflicted.”  [Isaiah 53:4 Christian Standard Bible]

That verse, of course, is part of the prophetic utterance of Isaiah regarding our Savior’s sufferings and cross.

“He carried our pains.” Other translations say that “He carried our sorrows.” Either way, our pain, our sorrows, were borne by our Savior.

As I read that phrase this morning, I was reminded of Matthew 11:28-30:  “Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.”  [NIV]

Jesus carried our pains and sorrows to the cross. That burden was so heavy, so devastating that the mere thought of what He would have to endure made Him think He might die from the sorrow alone.  Because He bore our burden, our sicknesses, our pains … because He was struck down and afflicted, He now offers us a yoke that is easy and a burden that is light.

What a trade!  I think I’ll spend today praising Him for taking my heavy burden.

I was reminded recently about the groups of people gathered around the cross. There were the ones who loved Jesus and stood weeping. Scripture tells us of John, the beloved disciple, Jesus’ mother, and a few other women who had gathered.

Then there were those who hated Jesus and who mocked and cursed, shouting hateful things to a man who had done nothing but good – just because He didn’t fit their idea of what the Messiah should be.

There was also a third group, the Romans Soldiers. For them, this was just a job to get finished, they couldn’t care less about the men on those crosses, they were just indifferent.

But as I thought about those groups, I heard the LORD say something that stopped me short.  He said, “don’t be so sure you would have been among the weepers.”

Those words pierced my soul. If I had been there, would my heart have been tender, or would it have been hardened or indifferent?

Of course, now my heart has been softened by God, and if I saw this happening today, I would weep. But I know that my heart was hard and desperately wicked before Christ changed me. I have come to accept that I just may have been among those who cursed.  That is an extremely humbling thought.   [Jeremiah 17:9]

Today I am so grateful for the salvation Christ purchased that gave me a new heart, soft and tender before God. I am so much more in love with my Savior than I have ever been. Today, I am stand among the weepers. Thank you, Lord.

Philippians 1:27: “Whatever happens, conduct yourselves in a manner worthy of the gospel of Christ.”

 “Whatever happens ….”  Paul wrote this from prison. He didn’t know if he was going to be set free or executed. He even debated a bit about which would be better, to go home to the LORD or to stay for the church here. He concluded that whatever happens, his readers should conduct themselves in a manner worthy of the gospel of Christ.

“Whatever happens ….” As a minister of the gospel of Christ, as a pastor of a church, someone whom God calls “servant,” I need to be constantly aware of how I handle the gospel of Christ.

I’ve just spent days in the Gospel accounts of Gethsemane studying the prayer of Jesus to His Father on the night of His betrayal. It was an intense, holy, prayer flowing deep from the heart of our LORD as He contemplated the enormity of what “being about His Father’s work” would encompass. As I seek God for the Resurrection Sunday message, I must make sure that what I speak honors that.

I wrestle with developing a message directed to visitors that won’t offend them but will invite them back … that’s what most of the offers from church resource groups have encouraged me to do. I do want visitors to feel welcomed and loved by us, but I struggle with forming messages for visitors rather than the people who have been faithful to God all year long.

“Whatever happens …” I must conduct myself on Resurrection Sunday (and every Sunday) in a manner worthy of Christ’s Good News (even if that means visitors don’t come back.)  We all must be faithful to honor the Gospel of Christ. Everything we do must be as worthy of Jesus’ sacrifice as we are able to make it so.

Luke 22:42:  “Father…not my will, but yours be done.”

We come to the final part of Jesus’ prayer in Gethsemane.  Surrender.

Jesus had laid it all out before His Father in abject humility. He had suffered intensely as He considered what His Father was asking Him to do – drink the cup of wrath for the punishment of the sins of all the world. He knew His death would not be an easy, quiet, peaceful one.

His death would incorporate the rejection of His own people, the abandonment of those closest to Him, torture, the degradation of spittle and mockery. He would be crucified by Roman soldiers who cared nothing about Him – to them He was just a job to get done.

Then for hours He would hang naked, bleeding, fighting for air on a rough wooden cross. And before He would relinquish His life there, He would sense the mysterious, fearful, ugly separation from His Father.

In the Garden, before any of that took place, He surrendered His will and His life to the Father’s will.  “Not what I want,” He said to His Father, “but what You want.”

Perhaps that must be the final part in all our prayers.  Not what I want, LORD, but what You want.  Amen.

Luke 22:43-44: “An angel from heaven appeared to him and strengthened him. And being in anguish, he prayed more earnestly, and his sweat was like drops of blood falling to the ground.”

I cannot even imagine the intensity and mental pressure arising from my LORD’s struggle in Gethsemane. How tremendous was the weight of the sin and punishment in that cup of wrath that was set before Him that He sweated drops of blood? The agony of Christ simply poured out onto the ground. Jesus could not even have continued in His prayer if an angel from heaven had not been sent by His Father to strengthen Him.

As I read those two verses I am touched deep in my soul. Words cannot even describe how I feel. When I consider that my Savior, God’s Son, endured all this for me, I can barely breathe.

How often have my thoughts of the cross been simply routine. The story has become so familiar that I sometimes glibly recount it. It ceases to make me pause, gasp, and fall to my knees.

I know I am saved. I know I have been adopted into the Father’s house, a child of God. I know all my sins are forgiven. I know God has promised me good things. I know heaven is mine. I know … I know.  But do I really know what all this cost my LORD?

Father forgive me for taking Your Son’s sacrifice lightly. Forgive me for my complacency and disrespect. Help me to truly know the cost of my salvation. Amen.

“’Abba, Father,’ he said, ‘everything is possible for you. Take this cup from me.’” [Mark 14:36]

I am awestruck by the honesty of this prayer. Jesus knew what was ahead of Him. Like any man, the trials and torture and crucifixion would have been a fearful experience, but the part that seems to have troubled Him the most was that “cup” of God’s wrath. He would have to drain that “cup” to its bitter dregs, taking upon Himself the sins of the world in their most horrendous punishment … and in the process experiencing a separation from His Father. How that all transpired cannot even be understood by us, it is a mystery that we may never be able to unravel.

Knowing all this, Jesus was honest with His Father. “Father, You can do anything and everything, is there is any other way that salvation can be accomplished apart from my drinking this cup of degradation and wrath?”

The writer of Hebrews tells us to “fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy set before him endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God.” [12:2]

“…who for the joy set before him endured the cross.”  That joy was the open door of salvation He would accomplish for us. But understand, there was no joy that night in Gethsemane. This was an hour of darkness and agony. It was a time of honest intercession … “take this cup from me.”

Let’s be authentic in our approach to God and in our pleas. God is not impressed by our pretense that we have it all together, but He will respond to us in our honesty and in our desperation.

Jesus took His disciples with Him to Gethsemane that night.  He left most of them in one place and took the three closest to Him, Peter, James and John farther. Then He went a stone’s throw away from them. They could see He was in agony, down on His face in the dirt. They could hear His cries. Their contribution in all this, however, was to fall asleep. I can’t really blame them. They’d consumed a meal prior to going and it was nighttime after all.

Jesus came back and woke them and then returned to pray. He came back a second time, woke them again, and urged them to pray that they would not fall into temptation. Then Matthew tells us, “So he left them and went away once more and prayed the third time, saying the same thing.” [26:44]

Jesus persevered in prayer.  Three times He sought His Father. Three times He said the same thing. He wasn’t going to give up until the matter was settled one way or another.  He was determined to hear His Father’s response.

I often wonder how determined I am in prayer.  Do I pray until the matter is settled … until I hear God say yes, no, or not now? Or do I just tell God what I think He needs to hear and how I think He needs to act, and then disappear.

It was a year ago that I began to pray for the “Presence of Christ” to manifest in our church and our community. I am still praying. I intend to persevere in that plea for the “Presence” until God says, “Yes, I’m here now,” or until He tells me to stop. I must follow my LORD’s example and persevere, even to saying the same thing(!) each time.

“Even so, come LORD JESUS. Amen”