The
birth at Bethlehem? Yes. It was magnificent in its austerity,
majestic in its overt simplicity, and so very representative of the
humility and grace of the Royal One who was born to die.
I
was admittedly sentimental about His humble entrance into this world
because of the many memorable Christmas celebrations where those very
images were symbolic of the joy and familial love of both my
childhood, and especially the precious times with my own wife and
children.
The
years pass so very, very quickly, and those poignant moments, though
often bittersweet, with memories sometimes hard to bear, are yet
beyond price.
But
what was coming next made the most heartfelt ache of any human life
absolutely nothing in comparison.
Though
still on the Balcony, I was standing again. Next to me stood my
guide. And though I was very far away in time and space, my
experience was that of an eyewitness to the horrific events on the
darkening planet below.
I
was there, yet not there. The tumult of the crowd and the cruel
hysteria of the rabid participants were overwhelming.
I
smelled the fetid human stink of hatred and fear, and my soul was
weighted down by the oppression of spiritual darkness so dense and
tangible that it felt to me as if I were being physically crushed.
Then
I heard the sickening crack of the torturous lash against the back of
a Man who was utterly undeserving of punishment, human or Divine. I
saw the flecks of blood and skin flayed into the air by the
well-practiced arm of a professional killer.
His
skill was diabolically evident in the precision of his ruthlessly
placed blows. The sound of each nauseating strike shattered the very
fabric of the Universe from earth to the highest Heaven, and yet it
seemed of almost no significance to the majority of those in
attendance.
Soon
after these things there came the demonic cry of the mob, "CRUCIFY
HIM! CRUCIFY HIM!"
Then
the horrible efficiency of the iron-headed mallet driving the spikes
through innocent human flesh, the dull thud barely audible above the
largely satisfied murmuring of the onlooking crowd.
The
victim was resolutely silent, as a Lamb led to the slaughter.
This
was followed by the collective groan of the leather-clad Roman
soldiers as they laboriously hefted the cross piece onto its
stanchion.
The
blood of redemption flowed copiously from the thorn-pierced brow and
the merciless wounds of lash and nails.
Vicious
mocking defiled the human audience with its cruelty and utterly
compassionless intensity. Hatred welled up in a vile explosion of
purest evil.
And
still the Sufferer neither cried out nor cursed.
Then
the Voice, that same Voice that created all Time and Space and
Matter, finally uttered Words of Power far more profound than even
those that caused every galaxy to leap into existence from absolute
nothingness.
These
were the utterances that the whole of Creation was groaning and
longing for since the Fall in the Garden millennia before. This was
the most significant moment of all the countless moments past or
future. It was the culmination of the eternal counsels of the godhead
from before the foundation of the world.
"Father!"
the Voice called out with surprising strength, "Forgive them for
they know not what they do!"
I
did not know whether it was unspeakable sorrow or infinite joy that
gripped me in a vise so tight I could barely breathe. I was beyond
all weeping or expression, except for one solitary, spirit-breaking
thought. I did this! I made this necessary! He is dying so that I
might LIVE!
Awe
and love and eternal gratitude annihilated all further thought of me.
There was only One who is worthy of all praise and blessing and honor
and power.
Then
this heart-stopping cry from the Cross, "My God! My God! Why
have you forsaken me!"
How
could this be happening? Why was not all the Host of Heaven exacting
perfect vengeance on the human vermin responsible for the most
heinous act conceivable?
But
then I remembered that the vermin included me and I knew the answer:
love stayed the Holy Hand of vengeance; love for each despicable
sinner from Adam onward.
To
hear the broken-hearted cry of the One who came to save, to imagine
the infinite grief of the Father as He heard the sorrow and pain of
His Beloved Son and denied Him the mercy He so freely gives to each
of us every moment; this should have undone everything!
But
it did not! Instead, through the unimaginable grace of the One
hanging in agony on that cursed wooden Cross, IT MADE ALL THINGS NEW!
Then
came the crowning moment of redemptive history.
The
Voice once more spoke with the magnificent certainty of complete and
undeniable victory. The Words rang out from one end of Creation to
the other, and across all time, as well.
"IT
IS FINISHED!"
Now
my heart SOARED with the incredible beauty and brilliance of it all!
By
His death conquering Death.
By
His undeserved judgment, judging sin FOREVER.
By
His sacrifice for sin TAKING AWAY the sin of the world! My sin!
And
then the final victorious cry.
"Father!
Into Your hands I commit my Spirit!"
And
I looked and saw a Dead Man on the Cross, and knew beyond all doubt
that He died for me.
© Bill Lilley 2011, 2013
