Setting in church a couple of Sunday's ago, and listening to
the message of the day, some thoughts came flooding into me. That doesn't happen to me too often so I
wrote them down as a quickly as I could so I wouldn't forget them. Now I'm trying to read my handwriting to
decipher what I wrote. More difficult to
read than hieroglyphics, as I make my way through my scribbles, the memories
are flooding my thoughts again, only this time they are flooding my heart,
too. They are miscellaneous but somehow
form a pattern, a glorious pattern of grace.
- Jesus descends the mountain.
- My brokenness is not beyond the reach of grace.
- Chords that are broken will vibrate once more.
- The stench of death will give way to the fragrant aroma of Christ.
- The old will go; the new will come.
- The brokenness will mend.
- God comes into the mess and stamps His life on the whole thing we call our lives.
The mountain Jesus descended was the mount of
Transfiguration. Rather than stay on the
mountain He came back down into His world where broken, lonely, needy people
lived. In other words, He comes right
down into the middle of what we call life.
Once there Jesus embraces us with a divine and holy hug, and
His very presence draws out of us the belief that our brokenness, even ours, is
not beyond the reach of His grace.
The thought about Chords vibrating once more come from one
of Fanny Crosby's song, Rescue the
Pershing, written in 1869
Down in the human
heart, Crushed by the tempter,
Feelings lie buried
that grace can restore;
Touched by a loving
heart, Wakened by kindness,
Chords that are
broken will vibrate once more.
I've often wondered exactly what might have been on Crosby's mind when she wrote those words. I know they speak clearly into my life. There was a time when my life was broken, damaged, and besieged by my own sins. There was no wholeness, just brokenness. Then the grace came. The mending took place. The healing occurred. The miracle broke forth. Chords that were broken began to vibrate once more. The music was restored. Amazing grace spoke into my life and restored what had been stolen.
The next phrase comes from the story of Lazarus who was
raised from the dead by Jesus. He had
been dead four days when Jesus asked that the tomb be opened. The shocked family and friends reminded Jesus
that Lazarus had been dead long enough for the stench of death to permeate the
tomb. Was it really wise to move the
stone away? They obeyed, however, and
Jesus spoke the word of life into the deceased body of Lazarus. The stench of death gave way to the fragrant
aroma of Christ, and Jesus ordered that the grave cloths be removed from
Lazarus. A living man no longer needs
the trappings of death. The new aroma is
the fragrant aroma of Jesus the Christ—the aroma of life and victory and grace
and love and power and victory and compassion.
The last three phrases speak for themselves. When the fragrant aroma of Jesus dominates
stories the old goes, and the new comes.
People experience first hand that brokenness does, in fact, mend, when
that brokenness is placed into the hands Jesus the Christ. I've seen it, and so have you, that moment
when God comes into the mess and stamps His life on the whole thing we call our
lives.
The miracle of Jesus is so powerful that those who encounter
Him tend to reorder their lives after Him and the grace He has lavished on
them. In the chaos and mess of things, a glorious pattern of grace begins to
take shape. The stench off death no
longer permeates. The glorious and
transforming fragrance of Christ fills the air. Graves cloths are no longer
called for. The signs of new beginnings
emerge on the horizon.
We become overwhelmed "that God should love a sinner
such as I" ("Such Love," by C
Bishop and Robert Harkness, 1929) and come into the mess, and stamp His
life on the whole thing we call our lives.
What do we do with such a love?
Maybe Augustine speaks for us all when he prayed,
You called, you shouted, you
broke through my deafness,
you flared, blazed, and banished
my blindness,
you lavished your fragrance, and
I gasped.
"I gasped."
Maybe this is the best spontaneous, unrehearsed, extemporaneous response
available for one who expected judgment and, who, instead, found themselves
caught up in God's amazing, poured out, and lavished grace.
In eighteen century England, Charles Wesley
"gasped," and then wrote,
Long my imprisoned spirit lay
Fast bound in sin and nature’s night;
Thine eye diffused a quickening ray,
I woke, the dungeon flamed with light;
My chains fell off, my heart was free,
I rose, went forth, and followed Thee.
My chains fell off, my heart was free,
I rose, went forth, and followed Thee.