Letter To God: About A Son

Abba Father, 

I have a son.  I don’t know how you did it!  I don’t think I could.  I think of Abraham, who so obediently put Isaac on the altar, Father.  I know You knew he wouldn’t have to do it, and I have to believe Abraham had crazy faith that You would provide an alternative.

But Father, I don’t think I could have done it!  My son!  My only son?  I’ve always known You loved me.  But I didn’t have one iota of just how much until I became a parent.  That love…that love a mother has for her child.  It’s amazing, Lord God. It’s above and beyond anything I’ve ever known.  That sweet, precious love of a child.

But you knew that Love too.  You know that Love.  And yet…. You allowed Him to be given up.  You let Your One and Only leave the perfectly perfect setting of Heaven, and go down to the world You created together.  To live.  And to die.  Fully human.   

And yet, always, fully God.  Born to a virgin.  Crucified.

Dead.

And buried.

Oh, God!  How could You have withheld your Arm of Might against those who shouted, “Crucify Him!”  How did You not smite them all with one flick of your finger? 

And yet…. I already know the answer to the question.  Because of Your intense, perfect Love.  For me.  For all who believe…for all who do not. You did it for all of us. Father, that You gave up Your precious Son, to be mocked, and beaten, and maimed to within an inch of His very life; Oh the Love! 

Once and forever, The Son of God hung on a tree for all men, for all time.  Every sin, past, present and future was paid for by the Precious Blood of the Lamb.  Oh, thank you Jesus. 

I think, “How could anyone have been screaming and yelling for the death of an innocent man?”  And yet…How could I know?  How can I ever know what I would have said on that very day?  I cannot!  Therefore, I cannot assume I would not become like Simon Peter.  He may not have yelled “Crucify Him!” but he denied You…three 

times in one night.   

Is there really a difference? 

I praise you, Father, that that is not the end of the story.  Three days of total separation went by.  I cannot imagine Your grief.  You and Your Perfect Child had been together since…well, since before forever began.  You are literally part of the same Being!  And then, for three days…nothing.  It must have felt like eternity.

That third day.  Oh, Glory!  Your Son, robed in Power, broke the very hold of death itself to Rise Again!  Hallelujah!  The angels sang!  The heavens rejoiced!  And people like me, people everywhere, were given new life. 

Father, there is nothing adequate I can give You for giving up Your Child.  I could die for my son.  I could probably even kill for his life…But could I give it up?  Father, let me never have to make that decision.

I praise You and thank you and offer You the only thing I have to give…myself.  My life.  In the shadow of the cross, troubles grow small.  Worries fade.  Burdens lighten.

And my soul sings:

“So I’ll cherish the old rugged cross;
Till my trophies at last I lay down;
I will cling to the old rugged cross,
And exchange it someday for a crown.

In that old rugged cross, stained with blood so divine,
A wondrous beauty I see,
For ‘twas on that old cross Jesus suffered and died,
To pardon and sanctify me.

So I’ll cherish the old rugged cross,
Till my trophies at last I lay down;
I will cling to the old rugged cross,
And exchange it someday for a crown.

To the old rugged cross I will ever be true;
Its shame and reproach gladly bear;
Then He’ll call me some day to my home far away,
Where His glory forever I’ll share.

So I’ll cherish the old rugged cross,
Till my trophies at last I lay down;
I will cling to the old rugged cross,
And exchange it someday for a crown.”

I praise you Father.

In Loving Adoration,

Your Daughter