A Cry of Victory
by Max Lucado
"It is finished."
Stop and listen. Can you imagine the cry from the cross? The sky is dark. The other two victims are moaning. The jeering mouths are silent. Perhaps there is thunder. Perhaps there is weeping. Perhaps there is silence. Then Jesus draws in a deep breath, pushes his feet down on that Roman nail, and cries, "It is finished!"
What was finished?
The history-long plan of redeeming man was finished. The message of God to man was finished. The works done by Jesus as a man on earth were finished. The task of selecting and training ambassadors was finished. The job was finished. The song had been sung. The blood had been poured. The sacrifice had been made. The sting of death had been removed. It was over.
A cry of defeat? Hardly. Had his hands not been fastened down I dare say that a triumphant fist would have punched the dark sky. No, this is no cry of despair. It is a cry of completion. A cry of victory. A cry of fulfillment. Yes, even a cry of relief.
It's over.
An angel sighs. A star wipes away a tear.
"Take me home."
Yes, take him home.
Take this prince to his king.
Take this son to his father.
Take this pilgrim to his home.
(He deserves a rest.)
"Take me home."
Come ten thousand angels!
Come and take this wounded troubadour to
the cradle of his Father's arms!
Farewell manger's infant.
Bless You holy ambassador.
Go Home death slayer.
Rest well sweet soldier.
The battle is over.
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment