The Sacrifice Lamb by Joylene M Bailey

Photo by Matt Seymour on Unsplash

“Celebrating Lent was not part of my Baptist upbringing” was how I was going to begin this blog post. But then I thought, I don’t even know if ‘celebrating’ is the right word. That’s how much I know about Lent. Do you celebrate Lent, or practice it? Observe it? Maybe you just get through it.

And so …

Lent was not part of my Baptist upbringing. I remember hearing comments about it from some of my friends at school, but I never paid any attention to them.

As I got into my teen years, I learned a little more. You gave up something, like chocolate, for 40 days. I could never figure out why chocolate would have anything to do with the days leading up to Easter … unless it had something to do with those one-pound solid chocolate bunnies we always got in our Easter baskets. Could that be it? No chocolate, no chocolate, no chocolate. BOOM! Chocolate!

Image by pasja1000 from Pixabay 

It didn’t make any sense to me.

So when this month’s theme came up, I asked the Lord to teach me what Lent was all about. What is it about giving something up for 40 days? Sacrificing something.

And what is real sacrifice anyway?

That’s the question I was pondering when I had lunch with a good friend. She mentioned that her Bible Study group was learning about Jewish feasts and festivals. Passover is the next one.

“Did you know,” she said, “that in the Old Testament, when the Israelites were preparing to celebrate Passover, they chose the unblemished lamb five days before it was slaughtered? They brought it into the house to live with them.”

Then she calmly went on to take another bite of salad while I sat there stunned.

They brought the lamb into the house? Where the adults would trip over it? Where the children would play with it and then fall in love with it? This lamb that would be slaughtered five days later would break the children’s hearts.

Photo by Bill Fairs on Unsplash

In that split second I began to understand what true sacrifice meant.

So now, not only was I researching Lent, I was researching Passover.

Sure enough. The lamb was chosen five days prior to Passover, on Lamb Selection Day. It was brought into the house for those five days so that it could be inspected and proved to be unblemished. And then, slaughtered at twilight five days later.

To my astonishment, I learned that Jesus rode into Jerusalem on a donkey on Lamb Selection Day. Five days later he was crucified, on the day that the Passover lambs were being slaughtered. Our Sacrifice Lamb.

So, what is real sacrifice?

It’s what broke the children’s hearts to have their pet slaughtered. It’s what tore Mary’s heart to see her son beaten and crucified. It’s what God the Father and Jesus the Son were willing to go through for the salvation of all mankind. For my salvation.

Lent … sacrifice … Passover … sacrifice … My brain was making the connections. And it being MY brain, needed this all to boil down to the lowest common denominator.

I understand that there are many components to Lent, but for me it all comes down to one thing: Remembering the Sacrifice.

Now I know that those who choose to give up something for Lent do so to remind themselves, every time they find themselves reaching for the thing they’ve given up, that Jesus made the ultimate sacrifice.

I don’t know that I’ll start observing Lent now, but on this journey God has brought me to a fresh understanding. And all through the eyes of a child and a pet lamb.

Image by Thomas B. from Pixabay 

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These are some of the websites I went to in my research for this post. They are worth checking out:

https://whatthenwhynow.org/the-path-of-the-lamb/

https://acts242study.com/lamb-selection-day/

https://www.crosswalk.com/blogs/jason-soroski/passion-week-part-1-lamb-selection-day.html

http://jewishrootsofchristianity.org/pdfs/120329-jesus-triumphal-entry.pdf

https://www.crosswalk.com/faith/spiritual-life/lent-101-honoring-the-sacrifice-of-jesus-1382259.html

https://www.hebrew4christians.com/Holidays/Introduction/introduction.html

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Joy writes from her home in Edmonton where she is presently hunkering down with the Cowboy and Babe. Find more of her writing at Scraps of Joy.

White as Snow - Marnie Pohlmann

The little girl skipped out of the house into the yard. She wore a new dress, a white Easter dress. In her curly hair was a white ribbon. On her feet were white knee-high socks and polished white Mary Jane's with the slightest heel that tapped when she walked on hard floors, which is why she was sent outside.

"Stay clean," Mama directed. "No hanging upside down from the cherry tree!"

Trying to be obedient, she tap-tapped her way down the paved driveway and onto the sidewalk. She twirled, enjoying how her beautiful new dress flared open like a flower blooming.

Suddenly, she was pushed from behind. She hadn't seen the bully approach. He always seemed to take pleasure in tormenting her and she didn't know why. She was off balance from twirling when he shoved her, so she landed hard, right in a mud puddle beside the sidewalk. Thick brown water climbed onto her lap.

"Why?!" she demanded.

He shrugged his shoulders and smirked an ugly grin. "I like it," was all he would say.

"Well, I don't!" she retorted.

"So, I'm bigger and I like it!" He laughed and walked away.

There was no tap-tapping as she shuffled back home. She knew Mama would be angry. Her new dress was ruined. She knew she would be the one to be punished, and he would not.

Opening the door, she slowly tip-toed to the kitchen where Mama was busy slicking back the rooster tail above her brother's pouting face. Mama turned to look at her.

"We're not quite ready to go yet, honey. Go back outside for a bit more."

Mama didn't notice the ugly stains? She looked down at herself, confirming the mud did show. But all Mama did was give her a hug and steer her gently back outside. Outside where the bully was.

He was still there, standing beside another mud puddle. Where had the mud come from? Before she had only noticed blue sky, birds singing in the trees, the green grass, and the start of Spring flowers in Mama’s garden. But sure enough, muddy water rested in pools throughout the neighbourhood.

She watched as he jumped in one, glorying at how the mud sprayed up around him. He hadn't noticed her yet, but his splashing threw up more mud; this time it reached her face and hair ribbon.

He seemed to be having so much fun jumping in the mud, and Mama had not even noticed the stains on her, she thought. "And he's just going to push me into the mud again anyway," she reasoned.

She stepped into the nearest puddle and sat down. She gathered mud around her, bathing in the dirt to cover herself before he threw more at her. She knew it was wrong. She knew she was ruining her pretty Easter dress. Yet somehow, she liked the squish of mud as it seeped inside her shoes when she stood up to run from puddle to puddle. The tap-tapping had turned to squelch-squelching.

"Let's go," called Mom. Climbing into the back seat of the station wagon, she huddled against the far door, expecting at any moment that a brother would tattle about her being so dirty.

No one noticed her, though. She was confused. Wasn't the sight and stench of the mud obvious? Couldn’t they see it covering everything?

At the Easter church service, she saw the other girls, all dressed in new dresses, soft shades of pink and green, and white. "If I stand beside them someone will certainly notice how dirty I am," she thought, so she stayed close to her mom, trying to hide in the shadows.

In the sermon, the minister described how the Jews had been slaves for hundreds of years in Egypt, and how God told them to mark their doors with the blood of a pure lamb.

“God said, ‘Eat standing up, with your coat on, ready to leave for the Promised Land.’” She remembered the story from Sunday School. The Angel of Death came that night to kill the oldest boy in each house, but not in the houses marked with blood. The blood showed the angel all the families who believed God could and would rescue them.

The minister then described the week leading up to the death of Jesus on the cross. How Jesus was beaten, with blood pouring over his face from a wretched thorny crown forced onto his head. And then they put him on the cross to die. The minister paused and turned to the wooden cross hanging on the wall behind him. It was draped with a black cloth.

She looked down at her dress and saw the mud had dried to a colour that matched the cloth on the cross. The minister pointed to the cloth and her eyes grew wide as he looked directly at her.

"That black cloth is your sin," he exclaimed. "The sin of history, the sin that has been thrown at you through circumstances, and the sin you have chosen yourself." She lowered her eyes in shame.

Tears streaked over the mud on her cheeks. She wiped her eyes trying to wash her face but knew she was just mixing the dirt around more. She quietly tried to wipe her face on her short puffy sleeves, but the material was already soaked through with dirt and wasn't helping at all. Being sorry was not enough.

The minister's voice had become quiet and she looked up to see him draping another cloth over the black one. This cloth was a deep red. He made sure it covered every bit of the black cloth.

"You don't have to stay in sin. Remember the blood of the lambs at Passover? It was the blood of a sacrificed lamb painted on the door that showed the Angel of Death who believed God could rescue them. Jesus gave himself on the cross as that sacrifice, at the exact time it was needed in the world because he was the perfect sacrifice. His blood can be poured over you just as it was on the doors so long ago. Do you believe God can and will rescue you from sin? Will you ask God to allow the sacrifice of Jesus to be accepted in your place?"

"Oh, yes," she whispered. "I would rather be covered with Jesus' blood than with all this mud. Then God will see the blood and know I believe He will rescue me."

The minister continued. “It doesn’t end there. Jesus’ blood covers the sin that keeps us from God, but then Jesus did even more. He rose from the grave. He conquered death so we can live for eternity with God. Hallelujah! Isaiah says, 'though your sin be as scarlet,' yes, even as your sin is covered with Jesus' blood, 'it will be white as snow.' Jesus' blood washes us clean. Jesus makes us white as snow so we can live in the presence of God. Do you believe?"

The minister paused as he hung another cloth over the red one. This cloth was white. It did not cover the red but seemed to be framed by the red cloth, as if tucked into and protected by the blood sacrifice.

“Only by the blood of Jesus can we live today, tomorrow, and for eternity in holiness, washed as white as snow.”

Her heart filled with wonder that God could cover her with Jesus’ blood to make her white as snow. She looked down again and fingered her lacey white Easter dress.

"Look, Mama, I'm white as snow."

This Lent season, Marnie Pohlmann is reflecting on the seasons of winter, mud, and spring, and how Christ's blood washes us white as snow to give new life, even though we have jumped into mud puddles of selfishness and sin. Read her blog, Phosphorescent, to see how God continues to teach her of His presence and love.

Don't Pass Over Passover - Tracy Krauss

As 'New Testament' believers in Christ, we sometimes tend to 'pass over' many significant institutions from the Old Testament. Recently I've been doing a study of the Hebraic cycle of feasts and other holidays, and I've come to a new appreciation for how God used these celebrations to help His people align themselves with Him.

Take Passover, for instance. We know that this began in the time of Moses when the angel of death 'passed over' the children of Israel when they were waiting to be set free. It is significant that Jesus was in Jerusalem celebrating the Passover feast just before He was crucified. God's timing wasn't an accident or a coincidence. He knew exactly what He was doing. Jesus was, and is, our 'passover' lamb, redeeming us for all time.

What I didn't realize was that Passover takes place during the first month in the Hebraic calendar. (Not to be confused with the 'New Year' which starts in the seventh month... Confusing, I know!) This year, NISSAN, the first month, began on March 28. It is the month of 'new beginnings'; the first in the season of spring. It is a month to celebrate redemption and deliverance; taking back the land and claiming one's inheritance! Hallelujah! Now that has me excited!

Nissan is also aligned with the tribe of Judah which makes perfect sense because our Lord came from the tribe of Judah! Did you know that Judah was always the first into battle, as well? Not only did they lead, but they were to lead with songs of praise! Nissan is said to be the month when 'kings go to war' which also makes sense since we are in a spiritual battle, but God has given us His divine strategy which is go into any battle with PRAISE.

It is easy to see the hand of God in every detail. Is it any wonder that our most sacred Christian holiday - Easter - takes place during this ordained time? Jesus was and is the perfect passover lamb, securing our redemption for all eternity once and for all.

Now that is cause for praise!

Staying Awake on the Job by Sharon Espeseth

Thursday is the day of Holy Week when Jesus meets his disciples in an upper room furnished by divine arrangements and prepared by two of the apostles. As planned, Jesus and his twelve celebrate the Jewish Passover. During this in-camera session, Jesus provides his men with more information: this will be his last supper with them; the bread and wine are his body broken and his blood shed for all of us; a betrayer is among them.

Although the men heard Christ's words, they question their understanding, and they can scarcely believe what they do comprehend. A betrayer in their group? What will they do without their Lord? The men talk among themselves, wondering what the others got out of the Master's message.

Jesus speaks of the shepherd being struck and the sheep scattering. Peter protests that he would never leave him. Christ warns Peter that even he will deny him three times before the cock crows.

Filled with anguish and knowing his hour is here, Jesus takes Peter, James, and John to the foot of the Mount of Olives to pray. He shares with them how overwhelmed and sorrowful he feels. "Stay here," he say, "and keep watch."

Walking a stone's throw further, Jesus falls to the ground. In agony, he cries, "Abba Father. Everything is possible for you. Take this cup from me. Yet not what I will, but what you will." After spending time with his Father, Jesus returns to his men and finds them sleeping.

Reproachfully, he says, "Could you not watch for one hour? Watch and pray so that you fall not into temptation. The spirit is willing, but the body is weak."

Jesus goes back to spend more time with God. Returning, he finds them asleep again.

Some years ago, I was at church for an hour of adoration. With company at home, I knew I'd be challenged to stay awake, so I came prepared.
I read, I prayed, I talked with God in earnest. Then I wrote the following prayer.

Prayer for an Easter Vigil

I have a short attention span, Lord. I am not sure I would have stayed awake either, that night in Gethsemane. I need to keep busy or I too will fall asleep. No doubt, your companions did not fully realize what you meant when your said, "My hour is at hand." My mind, much like the disciples, is so limited to the present, Father. Hindsight for me is such a great illuminator. "If only I had known," your disciples must have said regretfully.

Often it is those sins of omission, Lord, that trip me up; those things I wish I could go back in time and do over, or do right. Forgive me, God, when I fall short, when I have words I would like to have said, an act of kindness I would like to have done, a prayer for someone I wished I had prayed for.

Your friends who slept in Gethsemane could not go back in time, any more than I can. Help me to hold that thought every minute of every day. You have given me many second chances, Lord. But I know from experience that there is not always another occasion to "fix" a situation. Guide me, Father, in doing more things right, in acting more Christ-like, in seizing opportunities the first time, just in case. . .

(c) Sharon Espeseth

Painting of The Last Supper by Leonardo daVinci
Disciples Fall Asleep by James T. Tissot