Written for “OneWordCoffee Linkup”
Sacrifice… as a privilege? How can that be? Everything about a sacrifice is painful… right? I wonder if the price I’ve paid… is worth it?
The pain of living in a fallen world, and watching suffering… has caused me to ask the above questions. But, Jesus didn’t ask any of these questions. He looked into the eyes of humanity, both of the present and the future, your eayes and mine and said, “yes, I will give it all, and give them the opportunity to accept the gift of intimate relationship with my Father.” He knew there would be pain, pain unto death… but He willingly poured His life out for us. He the perfect one… sacrificed for us… so filled with sinful rebellion. How precious and priceless was Jesus’ beautiful pain. It would make it possible for all of mankind to enter the throne room of His Father and petition Him for forgiveness, mercy and grace. His sacrifice would usher us all into the presence of relationship and fellowship, where otherwise there would not have been a personal audience. Oh, Jesus didn’t wonder if the price was worth it, He knew it was and walked the way of suffering, spilling His life blood all the way. Drops of crimson fell, a sacrifice, for you and me. We, who know Jesus, have been touched with a drop of that blood, a gift that marks us a children and heirs of God. Jesus shouldered the cross, our cross, the weight of the world’s sin. He loved us all the way, unto cruel death, our death. No, He didn’t question the worth, because He saw it. Our lives, valuable, priceless and worthy.
With all of this before our eyes, and the love light shining brightly… I wonder what is my view of sacrifice? All I have to compare it to… will never compare.
As my beloved husband bravely fought a battle with cancer, I wondered at his strength. Surely that cross was heavy and painful… yet there came a point in the journey it seemed he was not aware of it. And it was then I knew, Jesus was there… bearing the burden of a thousand lifetimes of pain. His body failed and was so fragile, but… his words became bold, as if heaven had opened wide and poured out each sentence. I saw beauty in the way of suffering and hope in the sacrifice.
Though I cared for him as best I could, my sacrifice pales in the light of a dying man’s will to give and give and give, until his work here was finished. I gained more from being at his side then I gave, I am sure. Doors were opened, that would not have been, windows were unveiled that had been dark for years. I was privileged to give myself to honor vows made before God and man, because I loved that gift of a husband so very much. In the end… the memories and blessings became priceless. Mine was not a sacrifice of resistance or hesitancy… it was a privilege of priceless joy and a treasure in my heart. The cross… I thought I carried was lifted when I realized the privilege of giving it all to God, opening clinched fists, releasing pent up anxiety and lifting heavy arms to the heavens. Aw… the priceless privilege of knowing He will be faithful and He will bring goodness out of pain… just as God brought Jesus, alive, out of the tomb of death. And just like Jesus brought my husband out of the tomb of his cancer ridden body into the life of heaven’s healing. Truly, as the song says, “death has no sorrow that heaven cannot heal.” What I thought I sacrificed, was really not mine to carry or bear in the first place.
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