by Mary Childress Wall
Used by permission
What miraculous, triumphant contradiction this is: that we should call his agony, "good." I fear many other days we too boldly imply His goodness only equated with ease. With Comfort. With Escape. We demand it still. We shamelessly lay demands defined by what we want to be His goodness on the Rescuer who hung for our shame.
The more His scarred, grace filled hands gently and firmly rework my view of what "good" really is, the more I know Him, the less I can bear to think of His suffering that day. And even Today. His courage. His agony. His longing. His love. His strength. His gaze. His choice.
And I am silenced.
He is the greatest love story this world has ever known. And yet I am His. And He is mine. And as I fall silent I remember the crowds, surrounding still; they don't know who He really is. They don't know how He really loves. They don't know what "good" really is. Come and see... Come and know this King ... Our King... who stepped down from His throne... And though I know I cannot fully see it, comprehend it...bear it... I recognize that voice.
I know those scarred hands that let "worth it" redefine good. They have loved me. They have saved even me.
From the start He loved our lives. "God saw all that He had made and it was very good." Gen. 1:31 He called our lives good. We call His death good. And yes, it is good. This love.. I cannot comprehend.
But it demands a response. "Oh, your cross, it changes everything. There my world begins again." "For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways," declares the Lord. " As the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts." Isaiah 55:6-7
Used by permission
What miraculous, triumphant contradiction this is: that we should call his agony, "good." I fear many other days we too boldly imply His goodness only equated with ease. With Comfort. With Escape. We demand it still. We shamelessly lay demands defined by what we want to be His goodness on the Rescuer who hung for our shame.
The more His scarred, grace filled hands gently and firmly rework my view of what "good" really is, the more I know Him, the less I can bear to think of His suffering that day. And even Today. His courage. His agony. His longing. His love. His strength. His gaze. His choice.
And I am silenced.
He is the greatest love story this world has ever known. And yet I am His. And He is mine. And as I fall silent I remember the crowds, surrounding still; they don't know who He really is. They don't know how He really loves. They don't know what "good" really is. Come and see... Come and know this King ... Our King... who stepped down from His throne... And though I know I cannot fully see it, comprehend it...bear it... I recognize that voice.
I know those scarred hands that let "worth it" redefine good. They have loved me. They have saved even me.
From the start He loved our lives. "God saw all that He had made and it was very good." Gen. 1:31 He called our lives good. We call His death good. And yes, it is good. This love.. I cannot comprehend.
But it demands a response. "Oh, your cross, it changes everything. There my world begins again." "For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways," declares the Lord. " As the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts." Isaiah 55:6-7
No comments:
Post a Comment