Look to God and Live… Joyfully!

I stand all amazed at the love Jesus offers me,
Confused at the grace that so fully He proffers me.
I tremble to know that for me He was crucified,
That for me, a sinner, He suffered, He bled and died.

I marvel that He would descend from His throne divine
To rescue a soul so rebellious and pride as mine.
That He should extend His great love unto such as I,
Sufficient to own, to redeem, and to justify.

I think of His hands pierced and blessing to pay the debt!
Such mercy, such love, and devotion can I forget?
No, no, I will praise and adore at the mercy seat,
Until at the glorified throne I kneel at His feet.

Charles H. Gabriel

Many years ago, when Ben and I were preparing to sing Handel’s Messiah with the Southern California Mormon Choir our chorister, Doug Custance, tried to instill deep within our hearts the meaning of every last line that we sang. One night we focused on Part II, Scene 1 – Christ’s Passion. He asked us to contemplate the full meaning of “Behold the Lamb of God who taketh away the sin of the world.” This somber, and heavy, song, coming on the heels of the joyful “His Yoke is Easy and His Burthen is Light” was more pronounced as we thought about the vastness and magnitude of Christ’s passion. We explored what it meant for Christ to have borne our griefs and carried our sorrows, and what those griefs and sorrows even were. Within the music can be heard the sounds of burdens being placed, one on top of the other. He asked us to personalize the message as we listened to “And With His Stripes We are Healed” and heard the musical lashing of the whip, the sound of stripes being laid on that blameless back, so that each of us could be healed from the eternal consequences of our sins. I remember how he demonstrated how we, like sheep, had gone astray. He played the music and had a few people run pell-mell around the front of the room, running into each other, going opposite directions, etc. He paused the music and had us ponder on how we ourselves had gone astray from the Lord, thinking upon the things that had us following our own way. Then, he began the music again and it moved abruptly from lighthearted playfulness to a slow solemnity with the words, “And the Lord has laid on Him the iniquity of us all.” The difference was stark. We had gone unthinkingly along, each one to “his own way” and yet in the end the price must be paid if there was to be a chance for salvation.

I’ve thought a lot this year about the events of Holy Thursday and Good Friday. After a poignant Passover supper with His apostles, wherein Christ gave powerful teachings to those who would carry the burden of a new religion; where He instituted the sacred sacrament; where he taught by both word and example the meaning of servant leadership; and where He promised the surety of peace as they traversed their new world amidst the whirlwind of evil that was about to be unleashed on those who continued to follow Him, He made His way to the Garden of Gethsemane. The burden each step must have felt as He knew that every moment brought Him closer to the pain and suffering He had agreed to bear. He knew it wouldn’t be an easy painless task to atone for the sins of all humankind, and thus even He – the only one with perfect knowledge and perfect love – beseeched the Father to remove the cup of suffering that He would need to undergo to save us. But then, in perfect sublime humility, He submitted and said, “But not my will, but Thine be done.” And then, kneeling in that Garden, He completely took upon Himself every sin, every sorrow, every grief, every pain, and every other hardship of mortality for each individual who had lived or would yet live upon the earth. No one was left behind. The pain was intense enough to cause his sweat to be “as if it were great drops of blood.” We had gone astray. The price must be paid.

Ben used to talk about the eternal gulf. The very first time we sinned, big or small, we put a gulf between us and God. That gulf was completely uncrossable. We could not build a bridge, we couldn’t go down the cliff, across the valley, and up the other side, we couldn’t jump across. The only way we could get across that gulf was through the infinite mercy and grace of our Savior. That Thursday night, in that sacred garden, Jesus Christ provided the way across the gulf by paying the price for all of our sins.

The Savior had to be exhausted from a long draining night of spiritual suffering. I think of how absolutely spent I feel when I have knelt in beseeching prayer for a long period of time. I can only imagine the exhaustion that came from pleading for billions of souls, bearing uncountable burdens, and paying for infinite sins. However tired, though, He could not rest. Betrayed, He endured the mockery of a trial, accused of blasphemy by those who were blaspheming. He went back and forth between Pilate and Herod, saw mobs calling for His murder, was spat upon, bore the humiliation of a crown of thorns, and then had to carry His own instrument of death up the long hill to Calvary where He was expected to die an ignominious death between two thieves, stretched upon a cross that bore the mocking phrase, “King of the Jews.”

Jesus Christ, this perfect Son of God, had never been without the presence of His Father. But there on the cross, amidst the jeering thieves, the taunting crowds, the weeping disciples and distraught mother, He was alone. He had to go through this valley of pain and death by Himself. The agony of bearing all that immense pain all alone caused Him to cry out in agony, “My God, My God, why hast thou forsaken me?” In due time, the price for our iniquities was fully paid, and He “gave up the ghost” and died.

All this suffering, all this grief, all this pain was for me. It was for you. It was for all of God’s children. After knowing this, can we doubt that there is anything that Christ would not do for us? He bought our souls with His blood and now He “delights to own [us].” The fear that stemmed from that sacred Thursday night and terrifying Friday were real. The weeping was justified. But just as the Psalmist said, “weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning,” and two Millenia ago the weeping was turned to joy come that glorious Easter morning.

It often seems that sorrow fills our lives constantly in the here and now. The loss of loved ones, consequences of our choices or the choices of others, mental or physical illness, sadness over the burdens of life, loneliness, feeling unwanted, insecurity, and other such issues can fill our lives and seem to overwhelm us. Knowing that Christ literally chose to suffer and give everything for the right to carry our burdens of sin and grief, however, can and should help give us a sense of hope for the joy that will come.  We are engraven on the palms of His hands and He will never forget us – all of us whom He has “redeemed with His blood.”

Easter, without the suffering in the garden and on the cross would be an amazing triumph of conquering physical death. Easter with the suffering of the garden and the cross allows for a glorious combination of triumph over both spiritual and physical death. How grateful I am for the Lord’s willingness to suffer for me so that I do not have to suffer eternally. As the hymn states:

Oh, it is wonderful,
That He should care for me
Enough to die for me!

Oh, it is wonderful,
Wonderful to me!

Charles H. Gabriel