I climb part of the hill behind our house to my special place of communion. Rugged boulders wait serenely as though they were the thrones of majesties themselves. A cloudless blue sky envelops the world with brilliant rays of sunlight. In the distance I hear cheerful bird melodies while I watch a silvery-blue butterfly rest gently upon my bare toes. It's time to be still…
There are few things I cherish more than peace.
My mind has travelled thousands of pathways in the last few weeks. Big decisions to make. Places to minister. People to love.
Yet atop my mountain top perch with a birds-eye view, my mind wanders.
A heavy groan pierces the silence of midnight. The stark moonlight shining through the olive branches seems to cut the blackness like a sharp knife. Huddled beneath their cloaks a few hundred feet away can be seen a few drowsy figures. The entire atmosphere seems triggered, waiting with cold tenseness.
Stillness is broken by a movement in the shadows. A pallid form raises from the hard ground shaking in sobs of anguish. Following the silent path of gravity, blood stains red the place of conflict. With faint but determined voice come the words, "Not My will, but Thy will be done. I choose to surrender. I will give all."
Suddenly His haggard form crumbles to meet the earth. This struggle has drained from Him every ounce of strength. He has made the choice.
I review this scene while gazing silently across the pined landscape and my mind returns to the cause of this remembering.
Upon the cross and in the garden over two thousand years ago He shouldered the sins for an entire world of ungrateful creatures.
He took them all. He bore it all. He chose it all.
And yet when everything is said and done, Satan will only suffer for the sins of the righteous.
Christ always endures more.
His love encompasses, His heart throbs as one in our sorrow, in our agony, in our joy.
He has been through it all, and He understands.