Think about
His love.
One of my favorite praise songs from yesteryear was entitled Think
about His Love. Written by Walt Harrah,
it spoke of the pursuing, relentless love of God. The part that always grabbed me was the final
line of the chorus…great is the measure of our Father’s love. It reflects one of my favorite passages from
the Old Testament as well: Lamentations
3:22, 23—
Because of the Lord’s great love
we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail.
They are new every morning; great
is your faithfulness.
The verse is intriguing, to say the least. Most of us cannot imagine
why we would ever be in danger of being consumed. We see the benevolence of God as almost a
birthright, an entitlement. That is
because we often choose to only relate to one aspect of His nature—His
kindness, His charity. Jeremiah had come
face to face with the holy fury of God as well and realized that apart from
God’s compassion, we would all be toast—literally!
We know from the scriptures that God’s spirit can be grieved, so let’s
assume our Father God experienced profound pain, grief and loss over the
slaughter of His Son at the hands of sinful men. This was, of course, despite the fact that He
orchestrated it. Isaiah 53 says; “Yet it
was the Lord’s [Father’s] will to crush him [Jesus] and cause him to suffer,
and though the Lord makes his life an offering for sin, he will see his
offspring and prolong his days, and the will of the [Father] will prosper in
his [Jesus’] hand.” Jesus had to be a
willing Isaac, but the Father had to be an equally willing Abraham, so to
speak.
I once passed a church during the season of Lent which had a crude,
wooden cross near the curb with a sign below quoting Lamentations 1:12. It read simply: Is it nothing to you, all you who pass by? As I drove by, the words began to impact me
immediately. Why have I grown so casual
about this symbol of God’s love for me?
What kind of sacrificial act was this?
For a moment, my mind flashed back to the days of the Vietnam war. Vivid in my memory were the images from TV
reports showing fathers of slain soldiers as they watched protests and
flag-burnings. Think about it: even as
they were burying their sons and daughters, who had been killed while trying to
preserve those very freedoms, their children’s heroic acts were being
despised. I was aware that I knew little
of this kind of love. Soon after, I
heard a story that helped me understand a little better. I can’t prove that it really happened. I only know it helped me get in touch with
the measure of my Father’s love.
There once lived a man
called “Big John” whose job it was to operate a mechanical drawbridge. Several
times a day a train sped across this bridge carrying passengers safely across a
deep and potentially deadly river. Big
John’s job was crucial, of course, as the slightest delay in lowering the
bridge to accommodate the oncoming train could mean certain derailment, hurling
the train and its occupants to their death.
On one particular sunny
afternoon, Big John decided it would be a delight to bring his young son,
Little John, to the jobsite and allow him the thrill of watching him work. Sure enough, the boy could not contain his
excitement witnessing his dad in action, lifting and pushing levers which
engaged the mighty gears as they empowered the bridge to open and close at
Pop’s command. It was not difficult for
Little John to realize that the fate of many lives lay in his father’s hands,
and the lad was filled with pride.
Someday, perhaps, he could be so important. Someday, he thought, people’s lives could
depend on him. How exciting it all was!
About noon that day Big
John and the boy sat down to lunch and talked about the possibility of the
Little John actually trying out the levers later that day. As they talked, time seemed to slip away, and
only the loud piercing whistle of the oncoming 1:05 train jarred Big John back
to reality. Realizing that the bridge
remained in its UP position, he had only a matter of seconds to react to engage
the gears, which could lower the tracks in time to greet the speeding
train. As he quickly maneuvered the
levers, he assured himself that, in fact, there would be enough time to ready
the bridge.
Just then he heard Little
John scream. The boy had apparently lost
his balance on the walkway above the gear mechanism, causing him to plunge
headlong into the grinding, steel machine.
In a split second, the father torturously considered his alternatives:
stop the whole process with a pull of a lever, thereby saving his son, while watching
hundreds of innocent passengers plunge to their death--or allow the gears to
continue engaging the bridge. Big John
knew the latter option would provide safe passage for the train’s occupants
while at the same time tearing his hapless child into pieces.
In his heart of hearts,
he knew he had only one choice. With
tears streaming down his face accompanied by the loud cry of a man gone mad, he
held his hand steady, watching as the bridge slowly came into perfect alignment
just seconds before the roaring train zoomed by, its passengers casually
unaware of the sacrifice just made on their behalf. Some were sleeping, some played cards--others
just gazed out the window as if nothing had happened. John could not bring himself to look downward
at what had become of his precious boy, but instead stared intently at the
blank faces in front of him. Is it
nothing to you, all you that pass by?
Understandably, this story is not an attempt to accurately reflect the
Christian gospel, on a number of fronts. Firstly, God the Father didn’t
sacrifice His Son because He was forced into a real tight spot, as Isaiah 53
clearly teaches. “It was the Lord’s [Father’s] will to crush him [Jesus]”.
Secondly, unlike the hapless boy in the story, the scriptures clearly teach
that Jesus offered himself willingly, voluntarily. Thirdly, the people on the
train were completely unaware of what was going on. They weren’t to blame for
the accident, unlike you and me…and everyman. Isaiah continues, “We all, like
sheep, have gone astray, each of us has turned to our own way.” Still, this
illustration reminds us that the Amighty One so loved us that at a point in
time He allowed Himself to experience profound grief and loss as His beloved
son was slaughtered for the sake of others. Is there any debate? Great is the measure of
our Father’s love.
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