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…
throne room is dark and cavernous. The eyes of the King are closed. He is
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
eyes and sees a transcendent figure gleaming in the doorway. “It is
finished, Father. I have come home.”
Max Lucado is a preacher with a storyteller's gift — a pastor's heart and
a poet's pen. Max's message is simple: God loves you; let him. Max serves
the people of Oak Hills Church in San Antonio, Texas. He preaches and writes
to the hurting, the guilty, the lonely, the discouraged.
It was about noon, and the whole land became dark until three o’clock in the
afternoon...Jesus called out in a loud voice, “Father, I give you my life.”
After Jesus said this, he died…
Very early on the first day of the week,
at dawn, the women came to the tomb… two men in shining clothes suddenly
stood beside them… “Why are you looking for a living person in this place
for the dead? He is not here; he has risen from the dead.” — Luke
23:44-46, 24:1, 4, 5-6