A Celebration of Love
Jn. 1:1-5
In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was with God in the beginning. Through him all things were made; without him nothing was made that has been made. In him was life, and that life was the light of men. The light shines in the darkness, but the darkness has not understood it . . . .
Even as I write these words, my heart is filled with so many emotions, so many thoughts. The Spirit of God has prompted me to write—he is in fact leading me, causing me to remember even as Jesus promised he would. So much I’ve learned, so much I still do not understand.
For the longest, I struggled with one question, “Why would the Word of God—the Son of the Living God leave the glory of heaven to come to earth? When I was younger, a follower of the Master, I did not fully understand nor appreciate what he was doing, or why he was doing it.
Like so many of the people in our land in that day, I wanted a Messiah who would come and rid us of Rome. I wanted a Messiah who would come in judgment of all who would deny him. I wanted a Messiah who would call fire down from heaven upon those who failed to serve the Lord.
But I learned. I learned that this is not what the Master had come to do. He came to show us the way into the Kingdom of God. He came to show us what it meant to truly follow God. But what compelled him to come, he who made the earth and sky? Why would he stoop to our level, to take upon himself the flesh of humanity? Only now do I truly understand. The reason the Messiah came to us was simple—he loved us.
The memories come flooding back to me now. Each moment with him, each wonderful word from his lips, each example of love they all come to me as if they all happened yesterday.
I can recall the first miracle I watched the Master work. I had not been following him long when our group went to a wedding in Cana. The festivities were still going strong when the Master’s mother came to him and told him that the host was out of wine. Jesus gave her a mild rebuke, but she trusted he would do something for the embarrassed host. And he did. How I wish the whole wedding party knew that the best wine they had during the wedding feast had once be plain water. How they would have risen up and taken notice of the Master then. But that wasn’t why he changed the water into wine (only a handful of us ever knew about the miracle). I believe that he worked this miracle out of sheer love—love for his mother, love for the host, love for the bride and groom. He cared about them so much, he simply could not imagine letting them suffer shame. Such love—given to those who did not even know what they were given. Such an amazing love.
Then there was the time a pharisee came to see the Master. Nicodemus was his name. He came to the Master by night. I still suspect it was so that no one would see him coming to an traveling preacher. A pharisee he was—and a member of the Sanhedrin. Yet he came to Jesus. So many of Nicodemus’s friends in the Sanhedrin would come to hate the Master with a passion—many were already distrustful of Jesus. Some of the disciples really did not want Nicodemus there; but Jesus agreed to see him. When the pharisee began their conversation with flattery, the Master quickly took control of the moment and told the Jewish leader that he needed to experience a new birth. Entering the Kingdom was not about keeping the law, but about receiving the free gift of salvation that came through the grace of God. None of us fully understood what Jesus meant when he told Nicodemus that the Son of Man must be lifted up even as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness. I understand now that Jesus was talking about his death. I understand now that this act of grace came because of love. Jesus looked at this potential enemy, and loved him—and was willing to give himself for him. For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life. Such an incredible love.
I recall a trip we made through Samaria. None of us felt comfortable traveling through the country. These people had been looked upon as enemies for such a long time. Now, here we were traveling in hostile country on our way back home to Galilee. When we arrived at Jacob’s well, Jesus sent us into the neighboring town of Sychar to get food. We made the trip to the foot of Mt. Ebal and back again. When we returned to the well we saw her. A Samaritan woman was at the well speaking with the Master. We knew something must be wrong with her—coming to draw water in the heat of the day could only mean that her own people found fault with her. (We later found out why—she had quite a bad reputation) And there she was as bold as day talking to the Master—and he with her! Not even Peter had enough courage to ask what was going on. When she left, we approached the Master—and felt his rebuke. He told us to open our eyes, everywhere around us the fields were ripe to harvest—but we had to open our eyes. I couldn’t help but believe he was talking about this woman; after all, we had to have passed her on our way to town and we never even noticed her. Not long after she left she returned—with what looked like her entire village! An entire village came out to see the Master because of this woman. And many left that day believing in the Lord. All because he loved a Samaritan woman—someone he should never have had contact with according to the custom of our day. But his love for her was greater than his concern for social propriety. He love this woman that we did not even see. Such an open love.
Of course his love was not limited to individuals. I can see so clearly one of the most amazing miracles he worked for a mass of people. The crowds were growing so large that from time to time we would escape for a time of retreat. Once a huge throng of people followed us—at least 5,000 men. Instead of turning them away (which is what we wanted him to do), he taught them. And come time for the afternoon meal, he told us to feed them! Imagine that—we were supposed to feed a group of people numbering larger than a village. All we could find was a boy with a small lunch (five loaves of bread and two fish as I recall). And Jesus fed the entire crowd with that lunch; he had us gather up the leftovers and we filled baskets full. Why didn’t he just turn the crowd away? Why did he bother feeding their bellies when he had already fed their hearts? He loved them—and he didn’t want them to go away physically hungry. He loved them enough to meet their need. Such a generous love.
His love for people almost got him in trouble though. Self-righteous hypocrites came to him once, dragging a woman behind them. They threw her at the Master’s feet. She was barely clothed. Her eyes were red from crying. She couldn’t look up at the Master she was so overwhelmed with shame. She had been caught in the act of adultery, just moments before, and they dragged her to him. They wanted him to pass judgment upon her. They knew if he said “stone her” then all of his talk of love would sound like a lie to the crowds. If he said “let her go” then they could claim he had no respect for the law. I was overcome with fear—they had tried to trap Jesus before, but this time it looked as if they had succeeded. Then, quietly, and quite calmly, Jesus knelt down and drew in the dirt. He was silent for a moment, then raised to his feet. He looked at the men squarely in their eyes and said, “Which ever of you is free from sin may cast the first stone.” Within moments the crowd was gone. Jesus told the woman that he would not condemn her, but that she must not go back to her life of sin. Jesus had a purity about him than none of us doubted. Yet here he was talking to a woman who had broken the most sacred vows a person could make to another. She was unclean—no doubt about it. Yet he offered her grace. Why? He loved her, even in her sin, he loved her. And that love compelled him to offer her forgiveness. Even though she didn’t deserve forgiveness, she was given it that day. All because of love. Oh, what gracious love!
I received a very personal glimpse of Jesus’ heart of love the day we found out his friend Lazarus had died. We were on the way to Bethany, we disciples thought, so that Jesus might heal Lazarus. Shortly before we got to the village Jesus let us know that Lazarus was indeed dead. Had been for days. Martha and Mary met us and each told the Master that he could have saved their brother had he arrived earlier. Jesus assured them that Lazarus would live again. Most of us did not understand what he meant. Jesus went to the grave side and wept. Jesus, the stiller of storms, the healer of the sick, the one whom demons dreaded, wept at the tomb of his friend. And then proceeded to defeat death by calling Lazarus back from the grave. It was such a glorious miracle. People talked about it for the longest of times—why even the enemies of the Master acknowledged the miracle and wanted to kill Lazarus, to get rid of the evidence. As great a miracle as the raising of Lazarus was, it is the tears of the Master that thrill my heart. He truly loved his friend and grieved for him. Even though Jesus knew what was about to happen, he grieved for his friend. I believe He wept for Lazarus, Martha, and Mary that day. Why? because he loved them and he did not want them to suffer. Such a compassionate love.
Of course the greatest testimony of the Master’s love was not in a healing, or teaching, or deliverance. The greatest testimony of his love happened outside the city gates of Jerusalem at a place called Golgotha, the “place of the skull.” For months Jesus had been preparing us for his death. We simply would not believe him. Then our last Passover together was celebrated and that night he was arrested. I am ashamed that all of us fled him that night. Judas betrayed him, yes. But we all failed him. He was given a “trial,” if you could call it that, and was sentenced to death. The day of his crucifixion, I somehow made it to Golgotha. Something compelled me to go, even though I was terrified to show my face. There, at the foot of his cross, I found his mother, Mary. She was weeping bitterly. I held her to my side, trying to comfort her as best I could. As I looked up into his face I finally understood—this was what he meant. This was the fulfillment of his words to Nicodemus. The Son of Man was lifted up. Somehow, this was in the great plan of God. The Master’s love was being played out before my eyes. I was in despair. How could such a perfect love be crushed, stamped out in such a cruel way. When men die on a Roman cross they are known to curse even God himself. Jesus continued to love. He looked down at his mother and told her to “behold” her new son. He looked to me and told me, “behold your new mother.” Mary was a welcomed member of my family for the rest of her days.
My faith in God was sorely tested that horrible day. My faith in love was shattered. Until the first day of the week. Love was triumphant. Jesus rose from the grave—and salvation became a reality in my heart and the heart of countless others.
Why did he come? The memory of his life comes to me and gives me the anser. The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us. We have seen his glory, the glory of the One and Only, who came from the Father, full of grace and truth. He came to us ALL BECAUSE OF LOVE!!!
