Parenting, by definition, knows times of heightened anxiety. Any time a child is rushed to the hospital. The first time a teenager is allowed to stay home alone for the weekend. When the time comes to become a driving instructor. When the school principal calls in the middle of the day. Or worse, when the police call. And on and on. Parents’ hopes and dreams for their children are love-intense, unbreakable, sometimes painful. Saying ‘No,’ and seeing the crushed look on a sweet, young face, always comes at a price. Watching them head off to college, leaving home for the first time, feels like a cherished story that finishes too soon. And what father hasn’t felt dread at the prospect of walking down an aisle with a beautiful young girl dressed in white by his side? Parenting, like aging, isn’t for sissies (collected in my non-parenting pastoring over a period of many years).
Our Heavenly Father, aware that there was no alternative, no other way to redeem Creation from the Enemy’s clutches, made the most heartbreaking parenting call of all, to sacrifice the presence of His son, sending him to earth as the Perfect, spotless Lamb. I can picture God peering over the ramparts of Heaven, with his heart in His throat, watching every move of his dearly loved son. And every once in a while, bursting with love and no longer able to contain it, piercing the heaven-earth barrier and in a booming voice like thunder, declaring his Father’s love and pride over this son of his. The week leading up to the Crucifixion had to have been the very worst. And on the cross, when Jesus had summoned all the sin of the world to himself, the Father had to briefly turn His face away, unable to countenance sin, and for that horrible moment, left Jesus bereft of his Father’s loving gaze. I suspect the courts of Heaven went into stunned silence for three days when Jesus breathed his last breath (spoiler alert- but only for 3 days!).
We, the Pentecosted people of earth, are the more-than-grateful beneficiaries of the glorious plan of Salvation. We’ve been given life in Jesus, his life. No longer our life, but his. We’ve been given his Spirit. We’ve been adopted, now his sons and daughters. We are greatly loved. I think it no exaggeration to say we are doted on (or, as my mother would lovingly [and sheepishly] say to us as kids, ‘You are spoiled rotten.’ Maybe more Scripturally accurate – spoiled to perfection?) Suffice it to say, we are blessedly in receipt of far more than we could ever deserve. Looking forward to seeing you blessed’uns tomorrow, 10 AM, 4 PM. PD
