I dreamed I was in line to die. There were thousands of us. Standing, moving one step at a time, slowly, to certain death. It was like a gallows, you know like the ones in pirate movies, but very much worse. I was cold, alone, and hungry. It was very dark and kinda had that rainy, hazy feel. As I got close enough to where I could see Death himself, I became afraid. The type of fear that paralyzes you and where time moves into a painful slow motion. I was going to die, but I was ready, the waiting seemed worse than any death could be. That is, I was ready until I realized, realized what was really going on. The people were not dying, they were being whipped with chains full of broken glass, tortured. Then going into fire. A fire that could not be quenched. A fire that would never end. This was a fate worse than death. I no longer felt my false bravery towards death. At last, my time came. Utter despair filled every fiber of my being. But then, this man with brown skin, strong muscular arms, and the deepest most purest eyes imaginable stepped up to Death in front of me. They talked for a bit. I couldn't really tell what they were saying, and to be honest I didn't really care; I was about to die and that was all I could think about. They finished their conversation after what seemed like hours, and my heart skipped three beats. This was going to hurt. I really hate using the word "hurt" there, because it really was going to be much worse than "hurt," in reality it was going to be more treacherous than any words could ever express. I stepped into place, and braced my back for the deep sting I would soon feel. But then, instead of a deep lash, I felt warm, tender arms that wrapped themselves around me. When I heard the first crack of the whip I thought I had dreamed it, because I did not feel anything. So, I braced myself again. By the way, the arms were still there, but I didn't really know why. The second lash came down hard and fast, but here again I didn't feel it. The beatings lasted for longer than I know, but the thing that shocked me most was what happened afterwords. I came away from the stockade without a single bump. I saw the deep-eyed man I had seen before. He was bleeding and gasping for air. He led the way to the eternal fire. I followed him, still confused as to why I didn't feel the pain. When we got there, he went inside without a word. There was sort of dull lull at this point, and I don't really know where I was, but I know I wasn't in the fire. Someone had volunteered to go in my place. Then, at last it hit me. The man with the beautiful eyes! He had his arms around me during the beatings. He went into the fire, so I didn't have to. He put himself between the punishment and the criminal.
Almost immediately a deep sense of guilt overcame me. How could I let this stranger take my punishments? What could I do to repay him? I contemplated how to thank him for a few days, three to be exact. Then, there he was! He was no longer in the fire! He had scars in his hands and feet. He had stripes on his back from the lashings. But He was there! He was alive! He was back!
I jumped up and gave him a hug. Said my usual thank you's and introduced myself. He laughed a loud, beautiful laugh when I did this. I was confused so he told me he knew who I was. He knew better than anyone. He told me that he sewed me together when I was in my mother's womb. He painted my eyes and my hair. He picked out the tone of my voice. And he spent the time designing my fingerprints.
Then he told me about his father. Who loves him very very much. But he also told me about how his father loves me too. That was why his father had sent him. He knew the death from my sin would separate us, and that was a thought he refused to bear. I began to again feel a sense of debt to this strange man who knew so much about me. So I asked him what I should do to repay him. He looked at me squarely; cupped my face in his beautiful, scared hands and said "You can't. There is nothing good or bad that you can do to repay this. It is a gift. It is because I love you and my father loves you. I desire for you to love me back. To love me more than any other. Love me with all your heart, soul, mind, and strength. And love your neighbor as yourself. Not to earn my love, because that is impossible, but out of love for me do these things."
That's it? Really? You just want my love in return? My devotion?
I "love" a lot of things. Today He was not one of them. Oh Lord have mercy on us when we do not love you the way we should.
Happy Easter, friends.
He loves you. Those lashes are what you deserve. But, He loves you so much that He took them for you.But he was pierced for our transgressions, he was crushed for our iniquities; the punishment that brought us peace was upon him, and by his wounds we are healed. -Isaiah 53:5
