Hi folks. Here is a few thoughts I wrote down. Part 2 soon!
The Plans of a Loving Father (Part 1)
My, son … who is like him?
Perfectly made and a bringer of joy.
His smile makes me feel complete.
He is like a tender shoot, reaching upwards,
Finding his steps and letting his frail voice be heard.
Yet, I know, deep in my heart that he is not as handsome as others.
He is beautiful to me, but ordinary to the rest.
Yet, my heart is sorrowful, as I already know his life;
And it is not easy for me to watch. His experiences will almost break me.
He will be despised by many, completely hated.
He will not be known for his joy, but sorrow will follow him.
Bitterest grief will chase after him, day after day.
Many will turn their back on him … even me.
Words fail me. How can I turn my back on my son in his darkest deepest hour of need? My son.
Nobody will care for my boy.
And why? Why? Is it because of his own selfish ambitions? A wrong choice? A moment of madness?
Because of a mistake that he made, a crime he committed?
No, He will inherit the pain of the world.
He will carry the weaknesses of those He loves.
As he suffers, many will blame my son for his own downfall. Not knowing.
Beaten for peace. Crushed beyond recognition. Bruised for the healing of many.
Because of my son, my children will not have to walk in guilt; shame will be cast away. At last I can find a way of forgiveness. The only way.
I am so proud of Him. Even though He could rightly defend himself, he did not.
He did not waste his words on useless arguments. He knew what he had to do. And He did it.
His silent actions shouted louder than powerful words.
He was deemed to be guilty, yet I know that sin never entered his heart.
I know why He stood silently … for the sake of a lost world.
My beautiful one was treated like a beast.
My innocent child … a criminals fate.
The hardest thing for me? The most difficult confession I must make?
All this … the pain, the sorrow, the grief, the loneliness, the hatred, the utter shame…
… was my plan. My idea. My purpose. My proposal. My vision.
Mine. Not the idea of a demon from hell or from the warped mind of a confused father.
Mine. My plan. I can hardly say it.
My heart is breaking as I write and tears flow down my face.
What kind of a father am I? What father would plan such a horrific end?
And yet, I know I had to do it. Though it brought me temporary pain, I know the eternal benefits. I had to plan it this way.
Like a seed that dies and falls … new life will begin. The blood of my son is the seed of hope.
And, even though he went through indescribable pain for a moment … when He sees the reward of His suffering – blind eyes opening, people now free, the oppressed released, the lost being found – He will be satisfied.
When he sees the multitudes of
Because of my son, hell is defeated. Because if my son, death is a friend. Because of my son, sin has been destroyed.
If I could have written down another plan for my son, I would have. But I could not. When He cried out in desperation in the garden for another way ... I shook my head.
For the price of reconciliation was His blood. And I signed his papers.
And if you ever think I do not know what you are going through, the pain of a moment …
…think again.
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