HOW MUCH HE LOVED - Martha Anderson

Brian faced blistering winds and flying snow as he cut the twine to break the bale for the cattle. His feet slipped on the ice and he fell forward, driving the knife deep into his side.

During the 100-km ambulance ride to Edmonton Brian’s mother, Lillian, agonized in prayer over the uncertainty of her son’s life. “God, I know you gave your only Son to die for me. I’ll give you all I have. Only save my son…”

After her 12-year-old son was admitted to the hospital and stripped of his blood-soaked clothes, Lillian was allowed to see him briefly. As she walked through the door to where he lay, she gazed in shock at the naked body, deathly white from the loss of blood, his hair matted with sweat and blood, and his bloodied hands stretched out wide. His breaths came in raspy gasps as from the gash in his side blood continued to drip.

For a moment Lillian did not see her son. Instead she saw Jesus on the cross wearing a crown of thorns. By the time her thoughts returned to her son, the vision of her dying Savior had embedded itself permanently in her mind.

This picture of Jesus in his agonizing death is the scenario portrayed in the Bible by each of the gospel writers. The slow, torturous death was the cruelest form of execution devils and wicked men could devise. Stripped of all clothing, the naked body, usually protected by thick garments, was suddenly exposed to the scorching heat of the tropical sun and the mocking gaze of evil spectators. Skin soon burned and blistered. One spike through the heel bones of both feet, and one spike through the palm of each hand held the body to the cross. Washers fastened to a metal band around the wrist kept the spikes from tearing the flesh. The body sagged, making normal breathing impossible. For every agonizing breathe, Jesus had to force His body upward, his tattered back rubbing against the rough bark of the log that formed the upright of the cross. In the agony, the victims soon lost control of all bodily functions.

I cannot envision the extent of Christ’s physical suffering. In no way can our finite minds imagine the much greater torment of soul and spirit as Christ took on Himself the weight of the world’s sin and guilt.

Yet the Son of God never lost his dignity. He was never more truly the majestic King of Kings than when he hung on the cross. He died fulfilling His life’s purpose, His final cry a shout of victory: It is finished! His death paid for the sins of the whole world, His resurrection sealed His victory.

It is in remembrance of what Jesus accomplished for us by His death and resurrection that we celebrate this event that has become known as Easter.

Which Way Leads Home? by Pam Mytroen

An ice-covered fist, five rocky peaks, stood between Sir Ernest Shackleton and rescue. Warmth, food and hope awaited him and his two men on the other side of the mountains. They decided to try the first pass which appeared “deceptively easy”, said F.A. Worsley. However, when they reached the summit and peered over, they stepped back. The pass fell away in cliffs and crevasse-littered glaciers. The second and third passes proved just as deadly.

They put all their hope onto the fourth and final pass, but it too disappointed. Below them lay more shadowed crevasses waiting to swallow them whole. The men sat on its razor-backed ridge and dangled their legs into the darkening canyon.

Commander Shackleton withdrew for a moment to think. His 1916 South Pole expedition had failed. He had lost his ship ‘Endurance’ to ice. He and his crew of 28 had survived on ice-floes for six months until they took refuge on Elephant Island. The rest of his men waited there in an overturned lifeboat while Shackleton and his small crew crossed the stormiest sea in the world in another small life-boat. They reached Georgia Island which had never been crossed. If they had endured all of this, they could not turn back now. If they died, he reasoned, they would die trying to save their crew.

He faced his men and said, “We’ll slide.”

Worsley thought, “Slide down what was practically a precipice, in the darkness, to meet what? A rock in our path would mean certain disaster. Still it was the only way; to go back was useless, a death warrant; to stay on the ridge longer meant certain death by freezing.”

They sat down and locked together as one man. “Then Shackleton kicked off. We seemed to shoot into space. For a moment my hair stood on end. Then quite suddenly I felt a glow and knew that I was grinning. I was actually enjoying it,” said Worsely. In less than three minutes they safely reached the bottom of a three-thousand foot cliff.

Looking back, these men recognized that the slide was not a good choice. It was the only way down. It was trust.

That night Worsely recorded this in his journal: “There was no doubt that Providence had been with us. There was indeed one curious thing about our crossing of South Georgia...which I have never been able to explain...I had the sub-conscious feeling that there were four of us instead of three...” His ship-mates recorded the same mystery.

These experienced explorers realized that without stepping down into the darkness and trusting, they never would have made it safely home.

Jesus said, “I am the Way, and the Truth and the Life. No one comes to the Father but through Me,” (John 14:6).

Have you climbed long and hard only to find disappointment at the summit? There is a Pathway Home. His name is Jesus. He is the bridge across every crevasse.

Take that first step of faith into the dark canyon, lean into Jesus, and you will find rescue.

Pam Mytroen

All quotes other than scripture are taken from the following source:

F.A. Worsley, ENDURANCE, W.W. Norton and Co. 1931, pp 150, 155, and 156

Broken Things - Nesdoly

Broken Things

Often when her house is tidy
with the floors all clean and swept
she will slip into a back room
where the broken things are kept.

There she stands amid the clutter
of the puzzles, games and dolls
feels an inner sadness welling
as the tears begin to fall

on her knees to sort and gather –
finds a Ken who has no arms
someone’s pulled the head off Barbie
here’s a bracelet with no charms.

Dolly’s buggy wheel is missing
puzzle pieces need a frame
happy endings ripped from stories
dice and tokens but no game.

So she gathers parts and pieces
seeking one or two to fit.
But the chaos is too hopeless.
How does she make sense of it?

Then she feels the gentle presence
of His hands upon her own.
They are putting things together
better than she’s ever done.

There’s a piece – it goes with this one
here’s an arm, a leg, a face
there’s the ending of a story
here’s a picture of that place.

Oh how fast an hour passes
as they put a few things right
she may come again tomorrow
even slip back in tonight.

There is still so much to sort through.
Will she ever get it done?
“Do not fret my child, I’ll help you.
You and I have well begun.”

© 2009 by Violet Nesdoly

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I have read several stories lately where adult main characters have been molded by something that happened to them in their childhood. That doesn't happen only in books. I wrote this poem for a friend who shared with me some of her childhood memories and how she struggled to make sense of them. If this is your experience, my prayer is that you will bring your painful memories and confusion to Jesus.

"Broken Things" was first published the anthology River of Words, published by the MSA Poets Potpourri Society in 2009.


Web: violetnesdoly.com
Blog: promptings
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Shooting Ourselves in the Feet? -- Janet Sketchley

God came to Balaam and asked, "Who are these men with you?"

Balaam said to God, "Balak son of Zippor, king of Moab, sent me this message: 'A people that has come out of Egypt covers the face of the land. Now come and put a curse on them for me. Perhaps then I will be able to fight them and drive them away.'"

But God said to Balaam, "Do not go with them. You must not put a curse on those people, because they are blessed."
Numbers 22:9-12, NIV*

The people in question were the Israelites, en route to the promised land. For three chapters (22,23,24) the enemy King Balak tries to get Balaam to curse them, but God will not allow them to be cursed.

They are God’s people, and He chooses to bless them.

Then in one chapter (25)—actually verses 1-3 are enough—Israel causes its own trouble.

For me, this is a startling glimpse of God’s perspective. He wanted to do so much for and with His chosen people. He protected them from their enemies, was leading them to a spacious and rich land... and they did the enemies’ job for them!

I wonder what He wants to do in our lives that we’re preventing?

*New International Version (NIV) Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984 by Biblica.

© Janet Sketchley, 2010
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For devotionals, reviews and conversation, stop by Janet Sketchley's blog, God with Us: Finding Joy.