King of Glory; Man of Sorrows

A time is coming
and in fact has come
when you will be scattered,
each to your own home.
You will leave me all alone.
Yet I am not alone,
for my Father is with me.

~John 16:32

With these words Jesus revealed to his disciples that he knew the depth of their weakness, offering a measure of comfort despite their lack of understanding. I wonder who among them might have recalled these words, even as each one crouched uneasily behind his own door of denial, shrinking back as the maddening crowds made their way to Golgotha.

Even as he comforted his disciples, he reminded them (and us) that he was never alone. His father would remain with him until the final moment when payment would be extracted. On top of the beatings, on top of the scourging, on top of the bloody humiliation, it was the separation that would cost him the dearest, that would strike the deepest wound.

No element of Jesus' life or path to the cross was wasted. No tears fell for naught, not a drop of blood spilt without purpose. His journey from the throne to the cross was the greatest distance ever covered in time or in eternity, the largest chasm ever breached here or in the hereafter. There are no words to describe the King's ransom that was paid to reach down to me, and to you, and lift us from the mire of our sin and debasement from which we could not (try as we might) extricate ourselves. As if that were not enough to turn our hearts of stone into flesh, in his extravagance he clothed us with his own righteousness. The perfection of Him who shined with sinless purity was transferred to our account, making what was once worthless into royalty of inestimable worth. Inestimable because he paid for it, royal because of our adoption as His children.

I have been studying Philippians and pondering the imponderable, which is to contemplate the heights of glory Jesus descended in order to reach us. He willingly laid aside the outward manifestation of his glory to breach the walls of humanity and meet us at our point of need. The King of Glory become the Man of Sorrows to save the likes of me, and of you. In order to understand that most un-God-ly transaction, one needs to at least attempt to wrap one's mind around the holiness of God, an impossibility which defies exaggeration. But the attempt itself is an exercise in knowing Him, and one in which, while acknowledging the Mt. Everest in front of me (and I arriving jacketless and barefoot!), I can yet sense Jesus - my Savior friend - holding out his hand and bidding me come and follow - He shall lead the way! And so He has, and because of Him I have sometimes felt as if I have stood outside the very door of Glory as-it-were, and somehow caught a glimpse of the tiniest sliver of the white-hot light shining forth from the throne room of God. It is a trembling, humbling beholding that is most un-earthly.

There is a sense in which we cannot grasp the depth of our own depravity and need for a savior until we comprehend something of the holiness of God. In The Hunchback of Notre Dame, Quasimodo, though aware of his hideous appearance, does not fully comprehend it until he is in the tower with the woman. It isn't until he is close to her that he says: "I did not know how ugly I was, until I saw how beautiful you were."