Salvation is found in no one else, for there is no other name under heaven given to men by which we must be saved.
Acts 4:12
I remember growing up singing native Tiv songs during Sunday evening Family Time, around a bowl of hot kunun gyeda. One of my favorite songs went something like this:
The Jews put the Lord Jesus on the ballot
To run against Barabbas
Barabbas lost the vote -
Barabbas was not fit to die
You remember the story don’t you? Pilate, the Governor, in a desperate last-gasp attempt to rescue Jesus from an irate Jewish mob makes an offer he thinks they should not refuse. “Which prisoner do you want me to pardon?” he asks. “Jesus Barabbas, or Jesus the so-called Christ?” (Matthew 27:17). As far as he’s concerned, it’s a no-brainer. Barabbas, the infamous robber and murderer versus Jesus, healer of the sick and the most fascinating character to walk the roads of Judea for centuries.
At that moment, the Jews had a choice. They could get rid of one of these two men with their vote. And they chose Jesus. Barabbas lost the vote. Barabbas was not fit to die.
All of a sudden the heavens fell silent. There was an upset. The Author of Creation had just been chosen to die by the very people he had created. They considered the life of a hardened criminal worth more than His. What horror! What an outrage! What blessedness!
Because along with Barabbas we all lost the vote that day. None of us was fit to die and, indeed, none is. Not until we have died with Christ into his own death. For at the moment of his death, he stepped up and took the mantle of redemption. He gave himself up so that we could die freely. Without Jesus’ death, ours would be a sore shame. But since he has died and, thankfully, has been raised to life we are, at last, fit to die.
With love, Doosuur
Monday, November 17, 2008
Saturday, November 15, 2008
Scarred For Life
But he was pierced for our transgressions, he was crushed for our iniquities; the punishment that brought us peace was upon him, and by his wounds we are healed.
Isaiah 53:5
Today, November 15, is my Thanksgiving Day or, like I like to call it, my Deathday. It was 15 years ago, to the day, that I was rushing to school, late as usual. I had just come out of the cab and was waiting for change when I heard the loud blare of a truck horn. Next thing I knew, I was airborne, looking down at Mother Earth and wondering what had happened to me. It was not till I hit the ground (seconds of course, but it felt like eons) that I realized I had just been rammed, by a truck no less.
Several months of hospitals, medication and physiotherapy did their thing and I was soon back to new - except for the scars. My body did not respond well to the bruises, lacerations and infection, and I was left with hypertrophic scars on my face, neck and legs.
Today, years later, these same scars are a potent reminder of God’s mercy in my life. As I recount my deliverance, it occurs to me that these scars, disfiguring as they are, are a medal of honor. I would not have scars except I have been healed. A scar means the healing is complete and all that remains is a memory.
As I pondered this I remembered Christ’s own scars, displayed proudly one Sunday so many years ago. It was a warm spring evening but there was a chill in the air. The disciples had heard that Jesus’ body had gone missing and they were filled with trepidation, expecting a Jewish mob to storm their hideout any moment, demanding answers. As they brooded and pondered in the dim lights Jesus suddenly stood among them. “Peace be with you!”, his first words. Words cannot describe the astonishment they felt as they stared at him, eyes full of wonder. “Could it really be...?”, they thought. But then he showed it to them. His scars. A few days earlier, the soldier’s gavel had muffled the anguished cries of their master, driving cruel nails into his hands. Those same wounds, which had meant sin and shame back then now meant redemption and healing. And Life.
Everyone of us has experienced hurt, pain and disappointment. An examination failed, a relationship broken, a loved one gone. But after the grieving comes the healing and at the end of it all we can look back and see that the scars serve to remind us how far we’ve come the grace of God at work in our lives.
Join me and thank God that I’m alive. I’ve got the scars to prove it!
With love, Doosuur
Isaiah 53:5
Today, November 15, is my Thanksgiving Day or, like I like to call it, my Deathday. It was 15 years ago, to the day, that I was rushing to school, late as usual. I had just come out of the cab and was waiting for change when I heard the loud blare of a truck horn. Next thing I knew, I was airborne, looking down at Mother Earth and wondering what had happened to me. It was not till I hit the ground (seconds of course, but it felt like eons) that I realized I had just been rammed, by a truck no less.
Several months of hospitals, medication and physiotherapy did their thing and I was soon back to new - except for the scars. My body did not respond well to the bruises, lacerations and infection, and I was left with hypertrophic scars on my face, neck and legs.
Today, years later, these same scars are a potent reminder of God’s mercy in my life. As I recount my deliverance, it occurs to me that these scars, disfiguring as they are, are a medal of honor. I would not have scars except I have been healed. A scar means the healing is complete and all that remains is a memory.
As I pondered this I remembered Christ’s own scars, displayed proudly one Sunday so many years ago. It was a warm spring evening but there was a chill in the air. The disciples had heard that Jesus’ body had gone missing and they were filled with trepidation, expecting a Jewish mob to storm their hideout any moment, demanding answers. As they brooded and pondered in the dim lights Jesus suddenly stood among them. “Peace be with you!”, his first words. Words cannot describe the astonishment they felt as they stared at him, eyes full of wonder. “Could it really be...?”, they thought. But then he showed it to them. His scars. A few days earlier, the soldier’s gavel had muffled the anguished cries of their master, driving cruel nails into his hands. Those same wounds, which had meant sin and shame back then now meant redemption and healing. And Life.
Everyone of us has experienced hurt, pain and disappointment. An examination failed, a relationship broken, a loved one gone. But after the grieving comes the healing and at the end of it all we can look back and see that the scars serve to remind us how far we’ve come the grace of God at work in our lives.
Join me and thank God that I’m alive. I’ve got the scars to prove it!
With love, Doosuur
Thursday, August 7, 2008
Enlarged In The Waiting
These sterile and barren bodies of ours are yearning for full deliverance. That is why waiting does not diminish us, any more than waiting diminishes a pregnant mother. We are enlarged in the waiting... The longer we wait, the larger we become, and the more joyful our expectancy.
Romans 8:23-25, The Message
As I read this breathtaking phrase from Romans I could not help repeating to myself over and over again, the words "Enlarged in the waiting... ENLARGED IN THE WAITING". What a beautiful word-picture Paul paints as he likens the hope and joy of an erstwhile barren woman expecting her firstborn child with our experience as we wait for our fulfillment in Christ. Just think of it, not a moment passes when the thought of the life growing within her is far from this woman's mind. All her actions, everything she does, is in one way or the other directed towards tending and caring for the unborn gift. The things she eats, the way she sleeps, everything in her life takes on a whole new direction for a definite period of nine months.
Does waiting for this child distress her? Not necessarily. Because she knows that time must run it's course if her joy is to be complete. A little too early and she knows the only result may be grief in the end. So everyday that passes, every hour that goes by, she is expectant, knowing that she is getting bigger and bigger, unto a perfect gift. She is enlarged in the waiting.
Same with us. Our painful experiences may be likened to early-morning sickness. Our desire for God would be just like the cravings of a primigravida. But waiting does not diminish us. Not at all. It HELPS us. Every experience of God brings us closer to the perfect person He wants us to be. He is coming for a Church without spot and blemish and time and circumstance must run their course so that we can be presented mature before Him in the end.
We are enlarged in the waiting. And while we wait, like a responsible mother, we must care for ourselves, watching what we ingest; careful, so to speak, with our bodies, as we nurture this eternal life growing, even enlarging, within us. We have no idea how it will look, anymore than a mother knows the likeness of the child within her, but that does not diminish us one bit. We know there will be joy in the end. It's the only possible outcome.
With love, Doosuur
Romans 8:23-25, The Message
As I read this breathtaking phrase from Romans I could not help repeating to myself over and over again, the words "Enlarged in the waiting... ENLARGED IN THE WAITING". What a beautiful word-picture Paul paints as he likens the hope and joy of an erstwhile barren woman expecting her firstborn child with our experience as we wait for our fulfillment in Christ. Just think of it, not a moment passes when the thought of the life growing within her is far from this woman's mind. All her actions, everything she does, is in one way or the other directed towards tending and caring for the unborn gift. The things she eats, the way she sleeps, everything in her life takes on a whole new direction for a definite period of nine months.
Does waiting for this child distress her? Not necessarily. Because she knows that time must run it's course if her joy is to be complete. A little too early and she knows the only result may be grief in the end. So everyday that passes, every hour that goes by, she is expectant, knowing that she is getting bigger and bigger, unto a perfect gift. She is enlarged in the waiting.
Same with us. Our painful experiences may be likened to early-morning sickness. Our desire for God would be just like the cravings of a primigravida. But waiting does not diminish us. Not at all. It HELPS us. Every experience of God brings us closer to the perfect person He wants us to be. He is coming for a Church without spot and blemish and time and circumstance must run their course so that we can be presented mature before Him in the end.
We are enlarged in the waiting. And while we wait, like a responsible mother, we must care for ourselves, watching what we ingest; careful, so to speak, with our bodies, as we nurture this eternal life growing, even enlarging, within us. We have no idea how it will look, anymore than a mother knows the likeness of the child within her, but that does not diminish us one bit. We know there will be joy in the end. It's the only possible outcome.
With love, Doosuur
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