the sacrifice

The moment God the Son left Heaven and became a wee little embryo, the sacrifice began.

Every tear He cried because He was hungry, tired, or had a tummy ache was a sacrifice.

Every drop of blood from skinned knees and split lips.

Every time a neighbor died, every time He saw a loved one suffer.

Wearing shoes, having an itch, being stung by a bee, eating, breathing, sleeping were part of the sacrifice.

Every headache, every smashed thumb, every day – a sacrifice.

He was God. He didn't have to be here. He chose to be. He chose to leave Paradise and come to live among men. The sacrifice was in the coming and in the living.

We all know He sacrificed Himself in His death. When He hung upon that cross and bore terrible physical pain. The moment that He took my sin upon Himself and wore it as a covering; that was the greatest sacrifice of all. When God the Father looking down could no longer bear the sight of His own Son because He was wearing my clothes. Jesus looked like me hanging there in that filth and grime, the sins of my soul, and the Father turned away. God the Son forsaken by God the Father. God forsaken by God. Christ the man hanging utterly alone dripping with my wickedness mingled with His atoning blood. Then He could give to me His spotless robe so that when the Father looks at me, He sees Christ's Righteousness and I am accepted. The sacrifice.

But it began the moment He stepped into time. The instant He was conceived in a young woman's womb.

This is Emmanuel. God With Us.

God bless us, every one.

Merry Christmas!

the pain

Jesus didn't want to experience the pain of this day.  Who can blame Him?  I know that His humanity dreaded the physical suffering to be endured.  

But His Deity dreaded taking my place.  He wanted to, don't get me wrong.  He did it willingly out of love we can never comprehend.  But He was perfect.  Sinless.  Spotless and pure.  And in order to take my place He had to bear my sin.  

All of the filth of everything I've ever done or even thought of doing.  Every bit of evil that came to me through my lineage of sin.  And the shame.  Shame that drives people to desperation at times.  He wore it.  He hung there on the cross, naked and exposed, arms spread wide.  No way to cover Himself.  No way to hide.  And it wasn't His skin that shamed Him.  It was my sin.  He hung there wearing it and all the shame and God looked at Him and was so disgusted He had to turn away.  Jesus was forsaken for me.  Forsaken by His own nature, even...for me.  

God cannot abide sin.  Can't tolerate it.  That's the whole point.  So Jesus was forsaken so that I could be embraced.  Because Jesus wore my garment of filth, I now wear His garment of Righteousness.  When God looks at the cross, He sees me.  When God looks at me, He sees Jesus!  

I don't think we will ever fully understand the sacrifice.  It wasn't just about beatings and thorns and nails.  Thousands of men have been crucified.  Thousands of men have died unjustly. But what made this sacrifice so great was the pain of Purity and Absolute Holiness dripping with the slime and sludge of sins He never committed.  The shame.

And you know what?  When we cling to that shame, when we just can't let ourselves off the hook for something, we are calling His sacrifice worthless.   We are saying that it wasn't enough.  Christ have mercy.