A shadow of a mighty rock within a weary land,
A home within the wilderness, a rest upon the way,
from the burning of the noontide heat,
and the burden of the day.
- Elizabeth C Clephane
Indeed, the world we live in is all of those things - a weary land, a wilderness, just a way, the sapping, burning shimmer of noontide heat, a burden every day.
The Cross of Jesus is also indeed all of those things - the shadow of a mighty rock, a home, a rest. The most grisly scene on earth, is still all of those things. It's probably like that, because the Cross of Jesus is the ultimate answer to intimidation, brute power, cosmic violence, unbridled tide of red evil, the hot breath of hatred, and the purposes of the pit of hell itself. Imagine all of these spent over one frail human body. And one human life - mute, resigned, resolute. No talking back, no comebacks, no defense, no rationalising, no duplicity, no making it palatable. Nothing. Just mute resignation.
It amazes me that there were no words from heaven, or from earth, on that fateful day. There was no voice of validation, confirmation, victory or assurance from heaven; there were no words from down here as well. It was mute.
Wordlessness.
That comforts me, because the victory is obtained in silence. In solitude. In loneliness. In one single life fighting alone. No one can really come there with you. Only God can. And in those silent times, God impresses victory. There may never be words. Victory actually needs no words. Neither do joy, or hope, or love, or freedom. Their very power to give life is in wordlessness.
And in wordlessness I come to the cross. It is not the part of me that says things, that comes to the cross. The heart actually is wordless. And it is the heart which comes. And there, what I see shuts out words. Shuts out voices. Shuts out sound. I can imagine what Stephen felt in those last moments. Wordlessness. Soundlessness.
And then, a strange, almost eerie, unreal calm. With a refreshing cool breeze which has the power to soothe and rest. To rejuvenate, refresh, percolate breath and life back into choked veins, and hearts, and minds.
The Cross of Jesus calms me. No earthquake can touch it. Because all the horrors the world can concoct, were met, and neutered, on the Cross. There was no enemy left standing, however loud, however brute, however powerful, however inexorable. No one was left. And this was done wordlessly, soundlessly. In the dead calm of pin-drop silence.
Permanence. Purpose. Resolute resilience. For all time. No marauder or invader would render the Cross a ruin. It can never become just a sign; it will stand for all time no matter who or what came against it. The battle would rage all around it but he who came to its foot would not be molested.
The ultimate, ultimate safe place. The one fortress in this world no one can conquer. Its sanctuary is eternal; its protection irrevocable. No one who enters will ever be taken to his doom by force. The ultimate unstormable citadel.
Come away to the foot of the Cross of Jesus. Let the battle rage around you. Let the heat of the day burn unquenched. Let the burden bear down. None of these will touch you. Because you are in the safest place you will ever find.
A home within the wilderness, a rest upon the way,
from the burning of the noontide heat,
and the burden of the day.
- Elizabeth C Clephane
Indeed, the world we live in is all of those things - a weary land, a wilderness, just a way, the sapping, burning shimmer of noontide heat, a burden every day.
The Cross of Jesus is also indeed all of those things - the shadow of a mighty rock, a home, a rest. The most grisly scene on earth, is still all of those things. It's probably like that, because the Cross of Jesus is the ultimate answer to intimidation, brute power, cosmic violence, unbridled tide of red evil, the hot breath of hatred, and the purposes of the pit of hell itself. Imagine all of these spent over one frail human body. And one human life - mute, resigned, resolute. No talking back, no comebacks, no defense, no rationalising, no duplicity, no making it palatable. Nothing. Just mute resignation.
It amazes me that there were no words from heaven, or from earth, on that fateful day. There was no voice of validation, confirmation, victory or assurance from heaven; there were no words from down here as well. It was mute.
Wordlessness.
That comforts me, because the victory is obtained in silence. In solitude. In loneliness. In one single life fighting alone. No one can really come there with you. Only God can. And in those silent times, God impresses victory. There may never be words. Victory actually needs no words. Neither do joy, or hope, or love, or freedom. Their very power to give life is in wordlessness.
And in wordlessness I come to the cross. It is not the part of me that says things, that comes to the cross. The heart actually is wordless. And it is the heart which comes. And there, what I see shuts out words. Shuts out voices. Shuts out sound. I can imagine what Stephen felt in those last moments. Wordlessness. Soundlessness.
And then, a strange, almost eerie, unreal calm. With a refreshing cool breeze which has the power to soothe and rest. To rejuvenate, refresh, percolate breath and life back into choked veins, and hearts, and minds.
The Cross of Jesus calms me. No earthquake can touch it. Because all the horrors the world can concoct, were met, and neutered, on the Cross. There was no enemy left standing, however loud, however brute, however powerful, however inexorable. No one was left. And this was done wordlessly, soundlessly. In the dead calm of pin-drop silence.
Permanence. Purpose. Resolute resilience. For all time. No marauder or invader would render the Cross a ruin. It can never become just a sign; it will stand for all time no matter who or what came against it. The battle would rage all around it but he who came to its foot would not be molested.
The ultimate, ultimate safe place. The one fortress in this world no one can conquer. Its sanctuary is eternal; its protection irrevocable. No one who enters will ever be taken to his doom by force. The ultimate unstormable citadel.
Come away to the foot of the Cross of Jesus. Let the battle rage around you. Let the heat of the day burn unquenched. Let the burden bear down. None of these will touch you. Because you are in the safest place you will ever find.
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