Editor's Note:

So sorry this one was delayed. We had some server problems not to long ago and this one got lost in the malay. It is still worthy of reflection on King Jesus though.

An Ode to Joy in Anticipation of Easter

When I survey the cross upon which you bled and died, I cannot but fall to my face in shame. For a god to tabernacle in flesh amidst his wayward creation is a marvelous mystery; for that same god to embrace death to save his creation is an unsearchable antimony. Yet you have done it; you have walked in our midst and loved us with your tears, with the dolorous supremacy of your suffering. You have cast your eyes (were they blue, green, brown, or somewhere in between?) upon our ignominy; you have seen the pain of our despair; you have touched the effluence of our diseases; you have known the depth of our wounds. You have felt the sting of our reflexive hate, our small-minded arrogance, our rancid indifference, our propensity for doubt, our pathetic simplicity, our voluble hypocrisy, our self-deception and foolishness. You have experienced the pompous and self-serving justice meted out by those we honor as wise. You have seen the destiny we design for the meek, the poor, the peacemakers, for those who hunger and thirst after righteousness. You have seen how stained are our hands with the blood of innocents, how soiled are our faces with soot from the fires of our idolatry, how cluttered are our hearts with cherished artifacts of greed, pride and lust. We do not deserve you. We are darkness; you are light. We are unsightly; you are majestic.

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But all this, however true, you deigned to ignore. You jettisoned the measure of desert, chastised the demand of judgment, and mounted an invasion of love upon the fields and forests of our souls. By some unfathomable calculus, you decided we were worth the price of your blood. You saw us from eternity, from before the world was, in the creative light of the divine workshop, and fixed our place in your household, declared that we would be your adoptive siblings, and planned the means by which, despite our contumacy and sin, you would find us in this labyrinth of striving and sorrow and unveil our eyes to your truth. You, the Light of the world, purposed that the kingdom of darkness would not possess us. You, the archetype of holiness, determined that we would not bear the burden of your righteous wrath. Instead you decided to take its ponderous weight upon your own shoulders, in the shape and style of a Roman cross, and carry it up that lonely and rugged hill to Calvary. All that we had broken, by maleficent intention and clumsy inadvertence, you would make new.

In fact, you purposed to make all things new. Not only us but the cosmos. Redemption would find its ultimate expression in the historical acts and spiritual ends of your passion. Grace would enter our vocabulary through the memory of those acts and the empty tomb that followed. And hope, blessed hope, would be realized in the coming of the kingdom of God, through the subversion and salvation of the kingdom of men. By testimony of your mighty deeds and the reigning presence of your Spirit, the world, which was yours but did not understand you, would learn afresh the meaning of its existence. The lame would walk, the sick would be healed, the dead would rise, the blind would receive their sight, wretched souls would be cleansed, historical, racial, socio-economic and cultural divisions would be replaced with unaccountable brotherhood, whole tribes and lands would be transformed from haunts of strife to havens of harmony. And, in one grand and irrevocable inversion, effectuated by the swords of angels and sealed with the judgment of perdition, everlasting love would ascend to the throne of the hearts of men and the beatitude of creation would be regained, the balance of worship restored, and war, visible and invisible, would be vanquished by the conquering presence of peace.

All this you intended from before the foundation of the world. Across the ages you saw the fullness of times and every event, however insignificant, that would precede it. Yet, as we recall at Christmas, at a specific time and a particular place you entered the history that you foreknew, in the poverty of a manger, in the arms of a virgin who would be called blessed, and embraced for a precious season the torment of our infirmities. You brought the gracious intentions of Heaven to the distracted attention of men by the magnetism of your words and the authority of your deeds. By those words we know you; by your deeds we trust in you. Though we cower in shame at the knowledge of our imperfection, we are desperate to be near you, to touch the hem of your garment and to be made alive as you are alive. We long to drink deeply from your living waters and never to thirst again. Beneath the towering shadow of tragedy and chaos, we wait eagerly, expectantly, for your beloved appearing. Yet we temper our anticipation with the recognition of our responsibility in the cause of redemption. We remember your commission in creation to subdue the earth and your commission in the new creation to make disciples of all flesh. To this labor we turn with the humility of instruments in the hands of our Maker. Increase our capacity for compassion; teach us to treasure opportunities for service; strengthen us to carry the cross you have called us to bear; and conform us to your image that we may be glorious in your sight.

This we pray in memory of Golgotha and Easter, days that secured the salvation of the world and our own liberation. This we ask as we celebrate that our Redeemer lives.

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