Joy Comes In The Morning

So it has come to this.

Through sobs of disbelief and anguish, a strong arm supported her. She took one last gaze upward into the sweet face of the baby she cradled, the boy she nurtured, and the incredible man he had become. How can this be? His once pleasant face now swelled, distorted, bruised and bloodied from the beating. Thorns stabbed his head and his body wrenched in pain. Hanging on this cross, wooden shards relentlessly gouged his open wounds. Thick, rusty spikes gored his hands and feet. Sweat and blood-striped agony gripped him. Yet, his eyes were full of love, not anger. He nodded one last goodbye and she felt John’s nudge. She wanted to stay and protest, to scream aloud the injustice of it all, but how could she watch him die? How could God let this happen? Bewildered, she stepped back.

Finally accepting the situation, a sword seemed to pierce her soul and her normally strong legs went limp. John caught her and together they stumbled down the rocky path.

She was now his mother too. He tried to comfort her, but she would not be comforted.

His home was small, but adequate. As he reached for the door, the brightness of the midday sun extinguished. An eerie darkness shrouded the land. The ground began to rumble and quake and they barely made it inside before debris crashed the doorstep. Three hours later, sunlight returned as though nothing had happened. Soon the report came. The Lord was dead. John tried to soothe her wailing and his own aching heart, but couldn’t.

No celebration for Sabbath tonight, the motions were there, but numbness of soul triumphed. Each welcomed the oblivion of sleep and the next day’s lawful rest.

Then, the morning of the third day came shocking news. He’s alive!

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This could have been the scene at the foot of the cross that day.

Mary’s pain is all too real and every parent who has lost a child to death feels it. There’s extreme anguish, torment, and the helplessness of not being able to change the situation or stop death’s grip. In our minds, the seeming injustice of death makes us also stop and ask, “How could God let this happen?”

First, know this. God takes no pleasure in death. He grieves with you and He collects your tears in His bottle for remembrance. God feels your pain on the highest level, but sin is why death happens.

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Adam’s sin of disobedience allowed the penalty of death to enter. The cross was God’s predetermined solution. However, it was excruciating for both God the Father and God the Son. Not only was it physically agonizing for Jesus, but horrifically painful spiritually. In all eternity, this would be the only time the Triune Godhead separated.

During the hours of darkness, the Sinless Son of God became sin for us. His love compelled Him to pay sin’s penalty and suffer separation so we wouldn’t have to.

This is injustice on the grandest scale. Someone, who had no sin of His own, took my sin and died in my place. Innocent for the guilty.

Can you now understand why God hates sin? “For His anger is but for a moment, His favor is for life; Weeping may endure for a night, but joy comes in the morning.” (Psalm 30:5)