It is finished.

The Golden Goblet by Max Lucado, from Six Hours One Friday

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Flames leap from the hill. Pillows of smoke float upward. Orange tongues crack and pop.

From the midst of the blaze comes a yell — the protest of a prisoner as the dungeon door is locked; the roar of a lion as he feels the heat of the burning jungle.

The cry of a lost son as he looks for his father.

“My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”

The words ricochet from star to star, crashing into the chamber of the King. Couriers from a bloody battlefield, they stumble into the King’s presence. Bruised and broken, they plea for help, for relief.

The soldiers of the King prepare to attack. They mount their steeds and position their shields. They draw their swords.

But the King is silent. It is the hour for which he has planned. He knows his course of action. He has awaited those words since the beginning — since the first poison was smuggled into the kingdom.

It came camouflaged. It came in a golden cup with a long stem. It was in the flavor of fruit. It came, not in the hands of a king, but from the hands of a prince — the prince of the shadows.

Until this moment there had been no reason to hide in the Garden. The King walked with his children and the children knew their King. There were no secrets. There were no shadows.

Then the prince of shadows entered the Garden. He had to hide himself. He was too ugly, too repulsive. Craters marred his face. So he came in darkness. He came encircled in ebony. He was completely hidden; only his voice could be heard.

“Taste it,” he whispered, holding the goblet before her. “It’s sweet with wisdom.”

The daughter heard the voice and turned. She was intrigued. Her eyes had never seen a shadow. There was something tantalizing about his hiddenness.

The King watched. His army knew the prince of shadows would be no contest for their mighty legion. Eagerly, they awaited the command to attack. But no command was given.

“The choice is hers,” the King instructed. “If she turns to us for help, that is your command to deliver her. If she doesn’t turn, if she doesn’t look to me — don’t go. The choice is hers.”

The daughter stared at the goblet. Rubies embedded in gold filigree invited her touch. Wine wooed her to taste. She reached out and took the cup and drank the poison. Her eyes never looked up.

The venom rushed through her, distorting her vision, scarring her skin, and twisting her heart. She ducked into the shadow of the prince.

Suddenly, she was lonely. She missed the intimacy she was made to know. Yet rather than return to the King, she chose to lure another away from him. She replenished the goblet and offered it to the son.

Once again the army snapped into position. Once again, they listened for the command of the King. His words were the same. “If he looks to me, then rush to him. If he doesn’t, then don’t go. The choice is his.”

The daughter placed the goblet into the hands of the son. “It’s all right,” she assured. “It’s sweet.” The son looked at the delight that danced in her eyes. Behind her stood a silhouetted figure.

“Who is he?” the son asked.

“Drink it,” she insisted. Her voice was husky with desire.

The goblet was cold against Adam’s lips. The liquid burned his innocence. “More?” he requested as he ran his finger through the dregs on the bottom and put it to his mouth.

The Soldiers looked to their King for instructions. His eyes were moist.

“Bring me your sword!” The general dismounted and stepped quickly toward the throne. He extended the unsheathed blade before the King.

The King didn’t take it, he merely touched it. As the tip of his finger encountered the top of the sword, the iron grew orange with heat. It grew brighter and brighter until it blazed.

The general held the fiery sword and awaited the King’s command. It came in the form of an edict.

“Their choice will be honored. Where there is poison, there will be death. Where there are goblets, there will be fire. Let it be done.”

The general galloped to the Garden and took his post at the gate. The flaming sword proclaimed that the kingdom of light would never again be darkened by the passing of shadows. The King hated the shadows. He hated them because in the shadows the children could not see their King. The King hated the goblets. He hated them because they made the children forget the Father.

But outside the Garden the circle of the shadow grew larger and more empty goblets littered the ground. More faces were disfigured. More eyes saw distortedly. More souls were twisted. Purity was forgotten and all sight of the King was lost. No one remembered that once there was a kingdom without shadows.

In their hands were the goblets of selfishness.

On their lips was the litany of the liar. “Taste it. It’s sweet.”

And, true to the words of the King, where there was poison, there was death. Where there were goblets, there was fire. Until the day the King sent his Prince.

The same fire that ignited the sword now lit a candle and placed it amidst the shadows.

His arrival, like that of the goblet bearer, did not go unnoticed.

“A star!” was how his coming was announced. “A bright light in a dark sky.” A diamond glittering in the dirt.

“Burn brightly, my Son,” whispered the King.
 

Many times the Prince of Light was offered the goblet. Many times it came in the hands of those who’d abandoned the King. “Just a taste, my friend?” With anguish Jesus would look into the eyes of those who tried to tempt him. What is this poison that would make a prisoner try to kill the one who came to release him?

The goblet still bore the seductive flavor of promised power and pleasure. But to the Son of Light its odor was vile. The very sight of the goblet so angered the Prince that he knocked it out of the hand of the tempter, leaving the two alone, locked in an intense glare.

“I will taste the poison,” swore the King’s Son. “For this I have come. But the hour will be mine to choose.”

Finally that hour came. The Son went for one last visit with his Father. He met Him in another garden. A garden of gnarled trees and stony soil.

“Does it have to be this way?”

“It does.”

“Is there no one else who can do it?”

The King swallowed, “None but you.”

“Do I have to drink from the cup?”

“Yes, my Child. The same cup.”

He looked at the Prince of Light. “The darkness will be great.” He passed his hand over the spotless face of his Son. “The pain will be awful.” Then he paused and looked at his darkened dominion. When he looked up, his eyes were moist. “But there is no other way.”

The Son looked into the stars as he heard the answer. “Then, let it be done.”

Slowly the words that would kill the Son began to come from the lips of the Father.

“Hour of death, moment of sacrifice, it is your moment. Rehearsed a million times on false altars with false lambs; the moment of truth has come.

“Soldiers, you think you lead him? Ropes, you think you bind him? Men, you think you sentence him? He heeds not your commands. He winces not at your lashes. It is my voice he obeys. It is my condemnation he dreads. And it is your souls he saves.

“Oh, my Son, my Child. Look up into the heavens and see my face before I turn it. Hear my voice before I silence it. Would that I could save you and them. But they don’t see and they don’t hear.

“The living must die so that the dying can live. The time has come to kill the Lamb.

“Here is the cup, my Son. The cup of sorrows. The cup of sin.

“Slam, mallet! Be true to your task. Let your ring be heard throughout the heavens.

“Lift him, soldiers. Lift him high to his throne of mercy. Lift him up to his perch of death. Lift him above the people that curse his name.

“Now plunge the tree into the earth. Plunge it deep into the heart of humanity. Deep into the strata of time past. Deep into the seeds of time future.

“Is there no angel to save my Isaac? Is there no hand to redeem the Redeemer?

“Here is the cup, my Son. Drink it alone.”

God must have wept as he performed his task. Every lie, every lure, every act done in shadows was in that cup. Slowly, hideously they were absorbed into the body of the Son. The final act of incarnation.

The Spotless Lamb was blemished. Flames began to lick his feet.

The King obeys his own edict. “Where there is poison, there will be death. Where there are goblets, there will be fire.”

The King turns away from his Prince. The undiluted wrath of a sin-hating Father falls upon his sin-filled Son. The fire envelops him. The shadow hides him. The Son looks for his Father, but his Father cannot be seen.

“My God, my God… why?”

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The throne room is dark and cavernous. The eyes of the King are closed. He is resting.

In his dream he is again in the Garden. The cool of the evening floats across the river as the three walk. They speak of the Garden — of how it is, of how it will be.

“Father…” the Son begins. The King replays the word again. Father. Father. The word was a flower, petal-delicate, yet so easily crushed. Oh, how he longed for his children to call him Father again.

A noise snaps him from his dream. He opens his eyes and sees a transcendent figure gleaming in the doorway.

“It is finished, Father. I have come home.”
 
 

If you confess that Jesus is Lord and believe
that God raised him from death, you will be saved.
For it is by our faith that we are put right with God;
it is by our confession that we are saved.
— Romans 10: 9-10 (Good News Translation)
 
 
 
Blessings to you on this Resurrection Sunday.
 
He is risen! He is risen, indeed!
 
 

Darkness fell

from a devotional by Max Lucado

At noon the whole country was covered with darkness, which lasted for three hours. — Matthew 27:45

Of course the sky is dark; people are killing the Light of the World . . .

The sky weeps. And a lamb bleats. Remember the time of the scream? “At about three o’clock Jesus cried out.” Three o’clock in the afternoon, the hour of the temple sacrifice. Less than a mile to the east, a finely clothed priest leads a lamb to the slaughter, unaware that his work is futile.

Heaven is not looking at the lamb of man but at “the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world.“

What will you do?

from a devotional by Max Lucado

No defense. No explanation. No panic. The Galilean is looking at the floor again.

Something about this country rabbi appeals to Pilate. He’s different from the bleeding hearts who cluster outside. He’s not like the leaders with the chest-length beards who one minute boast of a sovereign God and the next beg for lower taxes. His eyes are not the fiery ones of the zealots who are such a pain to the Pax Romana he tries to keep. He’s different, this up-country Messiah.

But the eyes of this Nazarene are calm, silent. They don’t scream. They don’t dart. Pilate searches them for anxiety … for anger. He doesn’t find it. What he finds makes him shift again.

He’s not angry with me. He’s not afraid … he seems to understand.

Pilate was correct in his observation. Jesus was not afraid. He was not angry. He was not on the verge of panic. For he was not surprised. Jesus knew his hour and the hour had come.

What do you do with a man who calls himself the Savior, yet condemns systems? What do you do with a man who knows the place and time of his death, yet goes there anyway?

Pilate’s question is yours. “What will I do with this man, Jesus?”

You have two choices.

You can reject him. That is an option. You can, as have many, decide that the idea of God’s becoming a carpenter is too bizarre—and walk away.

Or you can accept him. You can journey with him. You can listen for his voice amidst the hundreds of voices and follow him.

What will you do?
 

painting by Dr. Jeff Warren

The Lamb whose sacrifice saved us all

The story of the Israelites’ exodus from Egypt is told to children at the earliest of ages. I’ve known it myself for as long as I can remember. Moses is a common name; DeMille’s movie, The Ten Commandments, is known by most everyone around the world. Still, it wasn’t until my adult years that I came to understand the true meaning of the Passover story. The Israelites were allowed to leave their slavery in Egypt, were commanded to leave by Pharaoh himself, because of the very first Passover, where God moved through the land and struck down the firstborn of every single family in Egypt save those who had followed His instructions about the sacrificial lamb. That innocent lamb, sacrificed for centuries in remembrance of that one night when the Lord delivered His chosen people, was the very foreshadowing of Jesus Christ. The Passover celebration is in honor of Christ himself.

“In His instructions to the Israelites, God outlined explicit steps to be taken by those who trusted in Him so that their offspring would not be struck down like the Egyptians’. They were to select a year-old male lamb in his prime, one which was perfect, without any flaw or defect. It was to be taken from the flock on the tenth day of the Hebrew month of Nisan and kept until the fourteenth day of that month. This would allow time for each family to observe the lamb and confirm that it was fit. This would also allow time for each family to become personally attached to their lamb so that it would no longer be just a lamb but their lamb. This would deeply impress upon them the costly nature of the sacrifice. An innocent one was to die in their place.

“On the evening of the fourteenth, as the warm afternoon sun was setting, the lambs were to be publicly killed by ‘the whole assembly.’ All the people were to be responsible for the death of the lambs. Then, each family was to individually apply the blood of their lamb to the doorposts of their own home as a visible sign of their faith in the Lord. At that moment, the innocent lamb became their substitute, making it possible for the Lord’s judgment to ‘pass over’ them. And so God instituted Passover as a ‘night of solemn observance to the LORD for bringing them out of the land of Egypt.’”

Jesus lived his life in the tradition of the Israelites, as a Hebrew man in accordance with the laws of the LORD. He celebrated all of the festivals set forth centuries before by God’s command. Jesus celebrated Passover from the time of his earthly birth. And yet, each celebration of the event was a direct nod to his own coming death. He was the very fulfillment of Isaiah’s prophecy, he was the lamb being led to slaughter. He knew all these things and yet he continued on God’s path. He chose to be our sacrificial lamb. He chose to endure all the pain and suffering that was set forth by God in order that everyone who ever lives can choose to live forever in the Kingdom of the Creator. Jesus chose to be “the innocent, pure Lamb, upon whom the judgment of God would fall.” Jesus chose to take that judgment in place of all people. He was the One who shed his blood to provide deliverance.

At his last Passover meal Jesus knew what was coming. That very night he would be arrested and the events leading to his death would begin. He knew the significance of his role in this world, and He knew that his sacrifice would mean that I could enter heaven. He knew that his death would allow you to know God intimately. Jesus was the Passover Lamb, and he made possible our deliverance from slavery to this world. Our only responsibility is to accept his gift of eternal life. Our only responsibility is to believe that his sacrifice was not in vain. As we celebrate this Easter week, may our hearts be always turned toward our Passover Lamb, whose death takes away the sins of the world.

Resources: The Feasts of the Lord by Kevin Howard and Marvin Rosenthal

the Gift

The Lord had said through the prophet: ‘The virgin will be with child and will give birth to a son, and they will call him Immanuel’—which means, ‘God with us.’“

The time came for the baby to be born, and she gave birth to her firstborn, a son. She wrapped him in cloths and placed him in a manger. And there were shepherds living out in the fields nearby, keeping watch over their flocks at night. An angel of the Lord appeared to them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified. But the angel said to them, “Do not be afraid. I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all the people.” Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; he is Christ the Lord. This will be a sign to you: You will find a baby wrapped in cloths and lying in a manger.”

Three wise men came from the east, following a star which stopped over the place where the child was. When they saw the star, they were overjoyed. On coming to the house, they saw the child with his mother Mary, and they bowed down and worshiped him. Then they opened their treasures and presented him with gifts of gold and of incense and of myrrh.

A great company of the heavenly host appeared with the angel, praising God and saying, “Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace to men on whom his favor rests.“

Documenting the days of Christmas was inspired by Ali Edwards’s December Daily project and the Holidays in Hand class by Jessica Sprague.