The moon escapes behind a forest of clouds, not daring to intrude on the scene in the garden where the Son kneels in deepening shades. Life oozing from sweat pores runs down His face. Doubled over in agony, He sees it all. The stoniness and cold, distortions and darkness. Darkness darker than the absence of light. The darkness of hell. Sharp hooks shred His back, tear at His brow, drive deep into His palms. He shudders and cries, “Father, let this cup pass from Me!”
Life drips from His hands. But the darkest and deepest isn’t life oozing away. It isn’t the wicked cruelty ahead. Greater than these is the silence. The awful, terrible silence of God. He who is God, separated from God. He who is Righteousness, made sin. He who is Justice, the victim. He who is Life, dying. It isn’t that He doesn’t know what’s ahead.
He knows.
But He knows me too. He hears my voice shouting among the multitudes, “Crucify Him!” Ridicule echoes in the air and mocking laughter rings in His ears. But He knows the terrors awaiting me. I, who am ignorant of the vengeance of a holy God, do not see and do not care. But He knows there is nothing else that could save me, except for Him as the Perfect Lamb to drink the cup of God’s wrath, experience the worst of wickedness, and carry the heaviest weight of guilt. All for me.
He also knows that even though He gives everything, I may never care. I may never even know. But it’s the only chance I will have. And so, He raises his blood-shot eyes towards the swirling clouds and groans, “Not My will, but Thine be done.”
Then he rises and faces it all. The posse that marches into the garden with flickering torches and weapons. The torture, darkness, and deep, deep silence. My sin and my hell. The sins of the entire world of the past and of the future.
He knows, but still.
He submits to death so He can stamp it out forever. And then from the depths of the earth, He bursts forth. He breaks the earth and shakes the sky. The forest of clouds melts away. He overcomes it all and rises, a triumphant Victor forever.
Now He stands in the gap that separated me from the holy God and extends His scarred hands. He has done His part. Now He waits for me to realize and take hold of His hand, to accept that great sacrifice so I can come to the Father.
Will I come?
Will you?
The blood has been shed, the tears have fallen. Today, the offer of salvation stands open. May it not be in vain.
Inspired to Inspire 