Listen to the podcast of this post by clicking on the player below, and you can also subscribe on Apple, Spotify, or Audible.
Good Friday is almost too heavy for me to comprehend. It’s only “good” as we view it now, after the resurrection of Christ. Looking at Calvary at the moment is so humbling.
See how the patient Jesus stands,Insulted in His lowest case!Sinners have bound the Almighty hands,And spit in their Creator’s face.With thorns His temple gored and gashedSend streams of blood from every part;His back with knotted scourges lashed,But sharper scourges tear His heart.Nailed naked to the accursed woodExposed to earth and heaven above,A spectacle of wounds and blood,A prodigy of injured love!Hark! how His doleful cries affrightAffected angels, while they view;His friends forsook Him in the night,And now His God forsakes Him too!Behold that pale, that languid face,That drooping head, those languid eyes!Behold in sorrow and disgraceOur conquering Hero hangs, and dies!Ye that assume His sacred name,Now tell me, what can all this mean?What was it bruised God’s harmless Lamb,What was it pierced His soul but sin?Blush, Christian, blush: let shame abound:If sin affects thee not with woe,Whatever life is in thee found,The life of Christ thou doest not know.—Joseph Hart, 1759
“Believer in Jesus, can you gaze upon Him without tears, as He stands before you the mirror of agonizing love? He is at once fair as the lily for innocence, and red as the rose with the crimson of His own blood. As we feel the sure and blessed healing which His stripes have wrought in us, does not our heart melt at once with love and grief? If ever we have loved our Lord Jesus, surely we must feel that affection glowing now within our bosoms.” —Charles Spurgeon
I hope you will join me in soberly and lovingly contemplating the amazing love of our Savior Jesus!
This is a weekly series with things I’m reading and pondering from Oswald Chambers. You can read the original seed thought here, or type “Thursdays With Oswald” in the search box to read more entries.
My God Came Down The Stairs
It is not our earnestness that brings us into touch with God, nor our devotedness, nor our times of prayer, but our Lord Jesus Christ’s vitalizing death; and our times of prayer are evidences of reaction on the reality of Redemption, so we have confidence and boldness of access into the holiest. What an unspeakable joy it is to know that we each have the right of approach to God in confidence, that the place of the Ark is our place, “Having therefore, brethren, boldness.” What an awe and what a wonder of privilege, “to enter into the holiest,” in the perfectness of the Atonement, “by the blood of Jesus.”
Oh, long and dark the stairs I trod,With stumbling feet to find my God:Gaining a foothold bit by bit,Then slipping back and losing it:Never progressing, striving still,With weakening gasp and fainting will,Bleeding to climb a God: while HeSerenely smiled, unnoting me.Then came a certain time when I Loosened my hold and tell thereby.Down to the lowest step my fall,As if I had not climbed at all.And while I lay despairing thereby.I heard a footfall on the stair,In the same path where I, dismayed,Faltered and fell and lay afraid.And lo! when hope had ceased to be,My God came down the stairs to me.
From Christian Disciplines
I am so grateful my God came down the stairs to me!
I am so awed that I now can come into His presence with confidence!
I am so humbled that God would save a sinner such as me!
When this passing world is done,
When has sunk yon glaring sun,
When we stand with Christ in glory,
Looking o’er life’s finished story,
Then, Lord, shall I fully know—
Not till then—how much I owe.
When I stand before the throne,
Dressed in beauty not my own,
When I see Thee as Thou art,
Love Thee with unsinning heart,
Then Lord, shall I fully know—
Not till then—how much I owe.
Even on earth, as through a glass
Darkly, let Thy glory pass,
Make forgiveness feel so sweet,
Make Thy Spirit’s help so meet,
Even on earth, Lord, make me know
Something of how much I owe.
Chosen not for good in me,
Wakened up from wrath to flee,
Hidden in the Savior’s side,
By the Spirit sanctified,
Teach me, Lord, on earth to show,
By my love, how much I owe.
I’m so grateful for the men and women who have put themselves on the front lines to keep us the land of the free and the home of the brave! One day a year is far too short a time to honor our fallen heroes, so let’s make sure we start today, and remember them all year long.
Thank you soldiers, sailors, airmen and Marines! Because of you, we enjoy our freedom today. May God bless you!
This is a poem by my friend Barney Fritcher entitled “They Stand”—
They stand at attention saluting our flag,
or they place a hand over their heart.
They’ve stood together on foreign lands,
each one has done their part.
They’ve defended this nation and some have died
to ensure that you’ve kept your rights.
They’ve watched as their buddies fell to the ground,
and they’ve slept in the jungle some nights.
They’ve crawled in the mud while covered with blood,
our children, our daughters, and sons,
and never, not once did they go on strike,
saying they did not get enough funds.
Many days they have gone without sleep
as they fought for this country we love.
Thousands of them have lost their lives
and went with our God up above.
To us, they are heroes, but to them it’s their job,
they do what needs to be done,
defending this country that we so love,
even down to the last one.
We give them a day to memorialize them,
to honor them for all that they do,
but a year would not be honor enough
for the service they give that is true.
Army, Navy, Air Force, Marines,
men and woman that are so grand.
They serve this nation of America,
and forever, together they stand.
A Collection Of Wednesdays is written by Amy Gaither Hayes, who describes herself as, “I am not One Who Must Write; I am One Who Can Write When She Must.” The One Who Can Write When She Must has delivered a book that is part memoir, part observation, and part poetry.
Arranged into fourteen distinct sections, Amy sometimes tell a story about her life, and sometimes shares with the reader what she is observing around her each week. Then each section is wrapped up with a couple of poems she has written about that particular subject. Her writings are an honest, fresh look at how we process the people and events in our lives who have gone into shaping who we have become (and are becoming).
The title of the book comes from Amy’s weekly writing time, which I think would be an appropriate way to read this book: one section each week, giving yourself time to reflect on not only Amy’s insights, but your thoughts about your own past, present, and future.
They said she’s not worthy
with words so unkind.
They said she’s not respectable;
God said, “She’s Mine.”
I hear the voice of Jesus,
I hear the voice of my Lord,
I hear the voice of my Savior
saying, “My child, I adore you.
I hear you call My name in desperation.
I hear you call My name in praise.
I hear you call My name in worship.
I hear each time that you pray.
I know that you love Me.
I know that on Me you depend.
It’s for you My Son I did send.”
So lift your hands and heart toward heaven
when life seems unable to bear.
There’s a wooden Cross on Calvary
proving Someone cares.
Listen to the voice of Jesus.
Listen to the voice of the Lord.
Listen to the voice of the Savior.
A home in heaven will be your reward.
—Betty Ann King, I Hear Him
I pray that today you can hear Jesus calling your name and saying, “You are mine; I paid an incredibly high price to show you how much I love you!”
Listen to the podcast of this post by clicking on the player below, and you can also subscribe on Apple, Spotify, or Audible.
If Jesus came to your house to spend a day or two—
If He came unexpectedly, I wonder what you’d do.
Oh, I know you’d give your nicest room to such an honored Guest,
And all the food you’d serve to Him would be the very best,
And you would keep assuring Him you’re glad to have Him there—
That serving Him in your own home is joy beyond compare.
But when you saw Him coming, would you meet Him at the door
With arms outstretched in welcome to your heavenly Lord?
Or would you have to change your clothes before you let Him in?
Or hide some magazines and put the Bible where they’d been? Would you turn off the radio and hope He hadn’t heard? And wish you hadn’t uttered that last, loud, hasty word?
Would you hide your worldly music and put some hymn books out?
Could you let Jesus walk right in, or would you rush about?
And I wonder—if the Savior spent a day or two with you,
Would you go right on doing the things you always do?
Would you go right on saying the things you always say? Would life for you continue as it does from day to day?
Would your family conversation keep up its usual pace?
And would you find it hard each meal to say a table grace?
Would you sing the songs you always sing, and read the books you read,
And let Him know the things on which your mind and spirit feed? Would you take Jesus with you everywhere you’d planned to go? Or would you, maybe, change your plans for just a day or so?
Would you be glad to have Him meet your very closest friends?
Or would you hope they’d stay away until His visit ends?
Would you be glad to have Him stay forever on and on?
Or would you sigh with great relief when He at last was gone?
It might be interesting to know the things that you would do
If Jesus Christ in person came to spend some time with you. —Lois Blanchard Eades
(I added the emphasis to the things that made me pause to think…)
Do you wish the world were better?
Let me tell you what to do.
Set a watch upon your actions,
Keep them always straight and true.
Rid your mind of selfish motives,
Let your thoughts be clean and high.
You can make a little Eden
Of the sphere you occupy.
Do you wish the world were wiser?
Well, suppose you make a start,
By accumulating wisdom
In the scrapbook of your heart;
Do not waste one page on folly;
Live to learn, and learn to live
If you want to give men knowledge
You must get, ere you give.
Do you wish the world were happy?
Then remember day by day
Just to scatter seeds of kindness
As you pass along the way,
For the pleasures of the many
May be ofttimes traced to one,
As the hand that plants an acorn
Shelters armies from the sun.
Good Friday is almost too heavy for me to comprehend. It’s only “good” as we view it now, after the resurrection of Christ. Looking at Calvary at the moment is so humbling.
Craig T. Owens 