The Wonder of the Cross

As we pass the supermarket aisle marked 'seasonal' the pinks of Mothers Day have been replaced by the sparkling purples, yellows and greens of Easter egg foil, glistening in the early spring sunlight. The yellow fluffy chicks sit precariously on the shelf crammed in beside the bonnets, egg shaped bunting, cards with hatted bunnies and carrot shaped chocolates. So happy. So colourful. So far from  the truth of the whole celebration. Easter is joyous, but it's only so because of the deep deep pain which touched the universe only days before.

The sinless One hung on the tree, for me. For my sin and for the sin of all those who upon him call. Every lie, every bitter word, every lack of trust. Everything that is not pure, noble and good was placed upon Him that night, in the darkness, in those moments of forsakeness by the one who had always been there before. The physical pain was horrific, of that we should not undermine, but others had endured that before. It was the pain of the sin of humankind on His shoulders that was the deepest. For the only Man who ever walked this scene of time knowing no sin was now experiencing the sin of all.

Oh the Grace! Oh the wonder of it all! That God became man for us and was so humiliated that it was as though "I am a worm and not a Man." Psalm 22: 6 That He walked this earth and bore that pain so that we could be set free, that  unworthy humanity should one day have the right to commune with the King of Kings and Lord of Lords for all eternity. And yet we take it forgranted. We fail to see that our sin is as serious as it is. Only when we grasp the awfulness of our situation  will we truly grasp the wonder of it all.