Man of Sorrows.

Wolfies, I have been thinking a lot lately about the death of Christ.
In all its gruesome detail.
I will be working, or doing dishes, or driving, or listening to Christmas music and all of the sudden, as if I am seeing it before my very eyes, I see this body in my mind, covered in red, his own blood, no doubt, carrying rough wood, surrounded by people.
Trample. Run. Noise. Chaos. Slow Motion.

And then that’s it. As if I have awakened from a terrible dream, I see it no longer. But I do remember.

Days later, weeks later, I see it again. Still fresh, as if I have never seen it before. It still catches my breath.
And all I can think is, “That’s how far he had to go. That’s what he had to do. For me.  And he did.”

I think I have started to cry, I am sure. Most definitely I look very strange if anyone saw me. I am sure you think I am one of those weepy girls, what with some of my recent posts, but truth be told, I’m not; I don’t cry in front of anybody.

And if someone accidentally sees me while I am crying, I always try to stop real fast and usually say something like, “Sorry…”
Something about crying over this, though. I don’t really feel any need to apologize. Not to those who saw me cry, at least. No.

I do kind of feel like I need to apologize to him, though.

My Man of Sorrows.

Isn’t that an interesting title to think about him at this time of year? We call him Wonderful Counselor, Prince of Peace, Everlasting Father, Savior, Immanuel.

Not so much Man of Sorrows.
Not at Christmas. We like to keep that reserved for Good Friday.

But yet this year I can’t stop myself from thinking it. It’s why he came. The Wise Men knew it; look at the gifts they gave.

Sometimes I wonder if they knew why they were giving him such things, or was it just a small voice that whispered to them, “Take the King gold. Take the Healer frankincense. And take the One who will die in your place myrrh.”
I don’t know.
I don’t know if they knew to what extent what they were doing. I don’t know if they knew the small child would bear their sorrows.

This year, I know it. In this year, the one I kind of feel like I dealt with some of my issues, I know he knows my sorrows. I know he bore it.

Have you ever thought that Jesus has known every emotion you have ever felt that was due to sin? Have you ever thought that he knows all of your guilt? Have you ever thought that he knows all of the injustice you have suffered?

And he doesn’t know it just as if he has seen it, but he knows it because he BORE it. Right there, hanging by on that rough wood. As if that weren’t enough. Our Man of Sorrows.
I suppose you could say he died of 7 billion broken hearts, because aren’t those caused by sin? And didn’t he take on all our sin? Isn’t that what he was doing?

He is our Man of Sorrows not just because he saw all of the broken hearts, not just because he paid the penalty for them and all the other sin we so easily and happily get ensnared to, but because he took it on as if it was his own, he wore it like a garment, he drank it like a poison, he endured it like a cancer. Ours became his. And he became our Savior. Our Man of Sorrows. Bearing all of our thousands of deaths that we know in desperate places.

Maybe that’s why I get a little weepy. Not only did he see, not only did he save, but he bore.

My Man of Sorrows.

~~~~

My favorite Christmas song is entitled that. I can find it nowhere on the internet to give you a link to, but here are the lyrics.

He was a man of sorrows. Acquainted with our grief. A man despised and rejected. Surely we esteemed him not.

Nothing to make us desire him; beauty nor majesty. Not one attracted unto him, yet he took up our infirmities. Bore the sorrow and the suffering.

He was pierced for our transgressions. Crushed for our iniquities and wounded for us all. Good Man of Sorrows.

Led as a lamb to the slaughter; afflicted, had no rest. This man who’d done no violence, never spoke his own defense.

Cut off from the land of the living, so stricken for my sin. A sign of grace to the wicked; bore the will of God in suffering. Guilt, the emblem of his offering.

And though he so suffered greatly, the Lord shall prolong his days. And the will of God shall prosper in his hand. He will see the light of life and shall be satisfied.

The will of God was to bruise him. The weight of guilt made to crush him. By stain of sin he was wounded. Good Man of Sorrows. Offered for sin.

Never was one so afflicted. So marred a body’s appearance. Beyond the likeness of human. Visage of suffering. All men hid their faces.

 This precious Man of sorrows. Poured out His life unto dying. Thereby the Lord's righteous servant justifies many. Pardon for all.

His act will sprinkle the nations. He will be highly exalted. O, sinner's great Intercessor. Good Man of sorrows. Raised high He is lifted up.

~~

This Christmas, raise high the Man of Sorrows in your heart, in your life, in your home. He already raised himself onto a high, rough cross for you.