He crossed the expanse between heaven and earth. God became flesh.
He overcame in the wilderness, He walked the dusty roads, and He crossed the stormy seas. He walked on them. He spoke to them and He calmed them.
He taught in the fields and fed thousands. He ate at the tables of sinners.
He shared and laughed with people in their homes, on the streets, by the well, on the shores.
From home to home. Town to town. City to city.
Each place bringing Him closer to the hill of Golgotha.
The CROSS.
The path was always leading Him to that hill, the hill where He would be crucified.
He knew what was coming, yet He stayed the course.
What lay ahead for Him did not deter Him from seeing those He would encounter on His way.
His eyes met with the eyes of those for whom He’d give His life. Some would love Him and follow Him. Some would betray Him and curse Him. Some would have ears to hear His Father’s heart and eyes to see His Father’s love. Some would close their hearts, their ears, their eyes and turn away with bitterness, hatred, and denial.
He still went to the cross for each of them.
All along His journey He healed, He taught, He delivered, He spoke, He forgave, He saved.
And as He approached the garden outside of where He knew He would be crucified, He prayed and He wept.
And then carried His cross up that hill, wounded for our sins, beaten for our burdens, whipped for our wrongs, crushed for our iniquities, stripped for our shame.
He bled. He cried out. He died. For the joy that was set before Him, you and me, He endured!
He went into the grave so WE could be brought out of our own.
His love didn’t stop there though.He crossed that chasm once again as he did His greatest work in secret.
Beyond the tomb when all was dark, when others thought all was lost and hope was gone, Jesus was still at work. It was in that place, between the crucifixion and the resurrection that Jesus conquered sin and death.
As I do a bit of wedding coordinating, one of my favorite parts is when the flower girl goes down the aisle just before the bride. Usually she has a little basket filled with flower petals, and her one task is to sprinkle them on the runner or in the aisle before the bride makes her grand entrance. Often the flower girl is a toddler or just a little older, which means her little sashay down the aisle and how she performs her job is extremely unpredictable. I’ve seen just about everything. Some become frozen with fear as they are overwhelmed by all of the stares of the guests. Some dumping the entire contents of the basket and running away with tears. Some taking clumps of the petals and throwing them as they hurry down the aisle, leaving little piles of petals all along the path behind them. Fortunately most of the little girls take their time sprinkling the flower petals as they walk, sweetly smiling at each guest and scattering each one all the way down the aisle.
Recently at a wedding, I watched two little flower girls begin their important journey down the wedding aisle, gingerly reaching into their satin ribboned baskets, pulling out the wilting rose petals. The oldest of the girls delicately pulled out one petal at a time, and with each step, bent over and almost strategically, placed each one all along her path. The other, much younger flower girl, grabbed as many petals as her little hands could hold, and just as I had suspected, dumped them into sporadic piles, moving as quickly as her feet could carry her down to the altar. Once they reached their destination and the music changed to signal it was time for the bride’s entrance, I glanced back up the aisle filled with rose petals. Some lay in clumps and many lay scattered all the way down as if someone had carelessly littered the path. The scene intrigued me, reminded me of the path of my own life. Times of road blocks and piles of mess. Times where I felt scattered, stepped on, fogotten, left behind. Times fo feeling wilted and lonely, unsure if I had destiny, purpose or importance. As the DJ gave me the nod, I quickly opened the barn doors on cue to allow the elegant bride and her doting father, to enter the room and steal everyone’s breath away with her beauty. She began her royal procession towards her smiling, awe-struck groom, her elegant train flowing behind her. As she moved slowly step by step down the aisle, her train swept over each rose petal in her path. Some were caught up under the silky fabric and no longer seen. Even the petals, that just moments before laid in clumps, were now spread out showing that they too had been affected by the weight and length of the garment. Each petal in line with the path of her footsteps was touched and covered by the train of her exquisite dress. Moved, carried, covered.
The scripture Isaiah 6:1 came to mind. Isaiah was speaking about a vision he had been given. “In the year that King Uzziah died, I saw the Lord sitting on a throne, high and lifted up, and the train of His robe filled the temple.” I stood there, completely lost in the moment, realizing how significant this scene at the wedding was. I felt the revealing and reminder of what the Lord has done for us. Each petal representing our sin, our disobedience, our flaws, our weaknesses. Each petal symbolic for a time of our life, our emotions, our decisions, our experiences, good and bad, highs and lows. Some wilted, some feeling quite dead and withered up, some representing even the sweetness of our lives, the beautiful moments. Each one, though has been covered by the train of the Lord’s robe. Each one being touched, covered, caught up in the very fabric of who He is.
I can just imagine how tremendous and magnificent the train that Isaiah saw in this vision must have been. Enough to fill the enormous temple, flowing throughout, touching every corner, every room, every area. I thought of the story of the woman who had been bleeding for twelve years. She knew that if she could touch just the hem of the garment that Jesus was wearing, she would be healed. And as she did, the Bible tells us, she was healed immediately. The power of His garment. And He gives us garments of praise. The power of the train of His robe. And He puts on us robes of righteousness.
The weight of His glory, His goodness, His faithfulness, His love, bearing a beautiful affect upon each part of our lives as we surrender to His path and allow Him to move through our hearts. We are even called His temple, the very dwelling place of the Spirit of God. So as we lay down our own lives, completely vulnerable and yielded, He comes and catches us up, sweeps over us with His love and majesty, with forgiveness and healing. He fills us, every part, every room in our heart, every corner of our mind, the train of His robe fills us as His temple. As we surrender, we cannot help but being touched, moved, and forever changed by Him.
Life Interrupted 