I loved the sounds of rain
Small drops sliding down the glass
With the branches flying wild
And the splash as people passed
Dreary days meant mugs of soup
And my mother’s sheltering arms
Tiny glimpses from my childhood
At a table safe and warm
Now the memory reminds me
Of another suppertime
When our Master gave the bread
And blessed a cup filled with new wine
How they sang a song together
About God’s mercy flowing free
Then He safely brought us home
Through the storms of Calvary
I am poured out like water and all my bones are out of joint. My heart is like wax it is melted in the midst of my bowels. Psalm 22:14 KJV
When we are singing “It is well with my soul” we should always remember the price of what we are singing about. As a teenager I always loved the Christmas presents I got from my stepmother. She bought me beautiful expensive clothes, but she always left the price tag on! She didn’t mind spending the money, but she wanted to be sure that I treated her gifts other special care!
In the garden Jesus said that His soul was sorrowful unto death. He agonized in prayer in order to accept the suffering of the cross. He asked if there were any other way and then sweat ran down His face like great drops of blood. Just hours after
He had finished praying, Jesus was nailed to the cross. The Bible tells us that He was poured out like water. Last, the spear pierced His side and the last drop of the lifeblood of Jesus flowed down to the ground. What a price He paid for us! Maybe like me you will go to church this Good Friday and receive communion. Jesus said that each time we receive the bread and drink from the cup we are to remember His death until He comes. Jesus is not angry that our sin drove Him to the cross rather in love He chose a way of leaving the price tag attached so we would know the price of His gift.
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But he gave him no answer, not even to a single charge, so that the governor was greatly amazed Matthew 27:14 ESV
I have a small confession to make. Some days I love to complain. I complain about the weather. I complain about my church, my kids and even my wife. Some nights as I lay my head on the pillow and replay the whiny remarks which I made I wonder how I could have been so unkind and wish I had kept my lips sealed.
Jesus on the other hand had no shortage of things to complain about. But on the worst day of his short life, Jesus encouraged a thief; made sure His mother was taken care of and forgave His enemies. How could He do that? What was His secret?
Some years ago I was bringing a truckload of branches to our local landfill. At the entrance was a one story cement block booth with an attendant who checked each vehicles weight. As I pulled up to get our weigh-in slip, I saw there by the side of the operator’s window a small sign with an arrow pointed up stating, “Complaint department upstairs!”
How can we be patient like Jesus, when others mistreat or abuse us physically or verbally? The answer is in knowing where the complaint department is located. Telling our neighbors, our family or our enemies the way we feel won’t help. Our only response is to quietly trust that our cry is heard by the only one who can deliver us. Then in the same way that Jesus did we can give ourselves into the hands of the one who loved us and gave His life for ours.
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