After enjoying our hot cross buns this morning, the children and I read the Bible together and sang a hymn as we always do. On the same page as "O Sacred Head, Now Wounded" in the Trinity Hymnal was another hymn I don't sing as often, "Ah, Holy Jesus, How Hast Thou Offended". I decided that in honour of Good Friday we would sing it as well, and I was struck by the fourth verse.
For me, kind Jesus, was thine incarnation,
thy mortal sorrow, and thy life's oblation:
thy death of anguish and thy bitter passion,
for my salvation.
During Holy Week, I tend to focus mainly on the events immediately leading up to Jesus' crucifixion: the Last Supper, washing the disciples' feet, the betrayal in the garden, Peter's denial - "Thy death of anguish and thy bitter passion for my salvation". But the first line of this verse turned my thoughts back to Christmas, when we celebrate the incarnation - God made flesh.
This past Christmas, we had a delightful family gathering with Ari's parents, his brothers and their families, and his grandparents. My sister-in-law showed me a picture that sent shivers down my spine. It depicts Mary, pregnant with Jesus, consoling Eve in the garden. A snake coils around Eve's ankle as she bows her head in shame, holding the partly eaten fruit in her hand while using the other hand to keep Mary at arm's length. Meanwhile, Mary is crushing the snake with her heel, and directing Eve's gaze and hand to the fruit of her womb.
Have you ever felt like Eve in this picture? I know I have. Overwhelmed by my own inability to live the way God wants me to or by the world's brokenness, I am tempted to push everyone away and hide in a coil of loneliness. Right now our world is more self-evidently broken than usual, and we are all enduring enforced loneliness. But think about what the incarnation means - not just the baby in the manger, but all of it.
Jesus was not satisfied to leave us in the mess we had made. He did not count his divine status as something to hang on to, but he came down to our level. And he didn't live a life of comfort, avoiding suffering - when we say he is God With Us, we recognize that his descent, his incarnation, his putting on human flesh, also involved accepting ridicule, pain, and the burden of all our guilt.
The incarnation didn't end when Jesus rose from the dead and ascended into heaven. He puts on flesh by indwelling each of his people. This means that if Jesus has made you his and is Lord of your life, any suffering you experience is suffering he goes through with you. You (and I) may feel isolated, but if Jesus is incarnated in your life, you are not truly alone.
For me, kind Jesus, was thine incarnation,
thy mortal sorrow, and thy life's oblation:
thy death of anguish and thy bitter passion,
for my salvation.
During Holy Week, I tend to focus mainly on the events immediately leading up to Jesus' crucifixion: the Last Supper, washing the disciples' feet, the betrayal in the garden, Peter's denial - "Thy death of anguish and thy bitter passion for my salvation". But the first line of this verse turned my thoughts back to Christmas, when we celebrate the incarnation - God made flesh.
This past Christmas, we had a delightful family gathering with Ari's parents, his brothers and their families, and his grandparents. My sister-in-law showed me a picture that sent shivers down my spine. It depicts Mary, pregnant with Jesus, consoling Eve in the garden. A snake coils around Eve's ankle as she bows her head in shame, holding the partly eaten fruit in her hand while using the other hand to keep Mary at arm's length. Meanwhile, Mary is crushing the snake with her heel, and directing Eve's gaze and hand to the fruit of her womb.
Have you ever felt like Eve in this picture? I know I have. Overwhelmed by my own inability to live the way God wants me to or by the world's brokenness, I am tempted to push everyone away and hide in a coil of loneliness. Right now our world is more self-evidently broken than usual, and we are all enduring enforced loneliness. But think about what the incarnation means - not just the baby in the manger, but all of it.
Jesus was not satisfied to leave us in the mess we had made. He did not count his divine status as something to hang on to, but he came down to our level. And he didn't live a life of comfort, avoiding suffering - when we say he is God With Us, we recognize that his descent, his incarnation, his putting on human flesh, also involved accepting ridicule, pain, and the burden of all our guilt.
The incarnation didn't end when Jesus rose from the dead and ascended into heaven. He puts on flesh by indwelling each of his people. This means that if Jesus has made you his and is Lord of your life, any suffering you experience is suffering he goes through with you. You (and I) may feel isolated, but if Jesus is incarnated in your life, you are not truly alone.
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