DayBreaks for 4/23/19: The King and the Poison
From the DayBreaks archived, 2009: (sorry, I just can’t let go of Easter yet – it is too good to be done already!)
From Max Lucado’s Six Hours One Friday comes a parable-type telling of the garden and the crucifixion:
“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?”
“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, do 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 sees 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?”
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.” – Six Hours One Friday, Max Lucado, Multhomah Press, 1989, pgs. 101-104
Prayer: God, forgive us! In Jesus’ name, Amen.
Copyright by 2019 by Galen C. Dalrymple. ><}}}”>