As Jesus approaches, John the Baptist boldly proclaims to all those that were around, “Look! The Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world!” For all of those that heard this statement whether fully or in part understood the ramification and significance of what John was saying.
When my girls were younger we were picked or maybe you could say, “punished” to be the foster parents of a small yearling lamb that we were to go and pick up from a local rancher. Then it would become our responsibility to bring it home and get it ready for the Easter program; which would entail scrubbing and washing, then drying and fluffing its beautiful wool. My young girls were so excited that they could hardly wait to get started on this adventure. I have to admit in the beginning I was looking forward to showing off my country boy upbringing as well. Once we arrived at the ranch, the gracious rancher took us out to a small pen where he was holding some orphan lambs so he could bottle-feed them. After the girls had a time of playing with each of them and falling in love with all of the lambs it was the moment of truth. My sweet young daughters had to pick just one, the right one! As they thought and talked and discussed and looked each one over and over they finally came to a mutual decision.
After thanking the amused rancher, who had a mysterious twinkle in his eyes making me question whether he knew something that maybe we were missing, we headed home. Well, that was only too soon confirmed when hours later this poor little cute innocent lamb was crying out for help from all the pampering and lavish love my girls were giving it. A bath with foaming suds and layers of soap, then hair dryers blowing from every angle with non-stop kisses from each of the girls.
What seemed to be a glorious memory making and life long lesson for my children seemed to come crashing down, when it became time to turn out the lights and go to bed with a sigh of accomplishment.
If only it would have ended with that fairytale ending. It was only moments after putting the lamb in our enclosed back suburban yard with lights turned off with a prayer and a kiss. That this little lamb must have finally came to the realization that something was drastically wrong and began to cry out for the normalcy of the stable. It was during this continual bleating and every home’s light coming on in our sweet quiet and quaint neighborhood, that I had the revelation of the Passover lamb, which was anything but a sweet child’s pet!
The sound must have been deafening in Goshen that night many years ago when God instituted the Passover and the sacrifice of the unblemished lamb in every home. (Ex 12:3-13) Things had been tense anyway as the show down between Pharaoh and God’s servant Moses came to and end. To the Egyptians it was nothing less than a nightmare and to God’s children it was a magnificent beginning to a journey of God unfolding His love for His people as well as continuing to reveal Jesus Christ as the coming redeemer and the Lamb of God.
That night with what started to be a cute cuddly memory for my daughters had turned into a agony of a bleating lamb in my back yard. It seemed to bring another side to this story more than ever; I now understood the ramification and significance of what John had declared more than two thousand years ago. Jesus came to earth to be our Passover lamb. That through receiving Jesus’ agonizing and horrific sacrifice on the cross we might be redeemed from death and walk in a journey of victory as His children. (Luke 22:14-20)
I have a hard time finding the appropriate words to describe how grateful I am of my mother and the mother of my children. These two women have done more for me in my life than anyone else other than my Savior who is the one who has graciously given them to me in the first place. As I reminisce of their impact over the years I truly understand that I will most definitely fall short of properly honoring them. In A Little Spoonful of Chicken Soup for the Mother’s Soul, Marion C. Garretty is quoted saying,“A Mother’s love is the fuel that enables a normal human being to do the impossible”.
As the sun comes through the kitchen window with rays of hope for another day, the wilting roses and empty boxes of chocolates are being filed away with memories of yesterday. It’s almost with the same intensity of coming off of a sugar high that the week of romance and love comes to a close. If we think that a card, some candy and maybe a dinner all by itself will carry our relationships through another year, we will probably be rudely awaken in the coming days. The sad reality in many relationships is that over the course of time things have slowly deteriorated to the point of needing a “Urgent Care” for relationships to get them going in the right direction again. And
The red foil rapped heart boxes and mountains of chocolate cherries seemed to shout the announcement of the season of love. It’s time to order roses and reserve dinner for two. Ready or not the marketing of big business has pressured every individual to consider his or her love life one way or another. Whether it is like Donny Osmond’s song many years ago “It’s puppy love” or the love of your life for so many years it’s time to “show the love”.
Like most young boys growing up we reenacted what we saw on our favorite TV shows. I loved the old westerns and therefore played with my brother and friends dressed in cowboy hats and chaps. I remember just as we saw on an episode, we would make a blood covenant by pricking our fingers and letting our blood mingle. Though we were just young boys playing and having fun, the message that we were reenacting was a realistic method of coming into a strong commitment and sealing it with your own blood. It implied a person was serious about making an agreement and becoming a faithful friend. In Deut 12:23, it says that the blood is the life in the body. Therefore spilling of blood in a covenant represented a commitment of your life.
The envelopes are getting tattered and the ink is starting to fade. But yet I find myself pulling out those priceless letters I have kept for so many years. The goose bumps go up my spine every time I reread the love letters my wife sent me when we were dating. The words keep melting my heart time after time, whether from a week or decades ago, I am moved by the words she wrote to me.
I am reminded how growing up, my brothers and I were a little bit rowdy, well maybe not just a little. So often we would hear my mother say, “I have my eye on you”. This was not necessarily a negative statement dependent upon our actions. If our actions were disruptive it would bring correction and if they were good then it always brought reward and affirmation. My mother’s words were rooted in feelings of endearment. Her eyes were on us because she knew us and loved us.
Bill Virgin Blog - Leave room for Cream 