God, sometimes I just get caught in the muck of life. I don’t want to
play the victim and yet if life had been different, perhaps I would have
learned how to respond differently. In my son, there was nothing
beautiful or majestic about his appearance, nothing to attract others to
him. He was despised and rejected – a man of sorrows, acquainted with
deepest grief. He was oppressed and treated harshly ... unjustly
condemned.
I silently withdraw and yet there is a part of me that would just like to unleash all the ugliness I could muster to retaliate against the unfairness. My son was led like a lamb to the slaughter, and as a sheep is silent before the shearers, he did not open his mouth. He never said a word. I would just like to have an inkling of an idea that someone truly cared – that I mattered – that I am worth something. No one cared that my son was despised. They turned their backs on him and looked the other way. No one cared that my son died without descendants, that his life was cut short in midstream.
But I haven’t done anything! I mean it would be different if I could see a wrong that I have done. That would give some reason for injustice being meted out against me. My son had done no wrong and had never deceived anyone. Others thought that I, his father, was the cause of his troubles, that I was punishing him for his own sins! He was beaten; he was whipped; he was buried like a criminal. He was counted among the rebels.
The unfairness has no reason, no purpose. What good could it possibly accomplish? My son carried your very own weaknesses; your very own sorrows weighed him down. He was pierced for your rebellion, crushed for your sins. I laid all of your sins on him. My son will make it possible for many to be counted righteous. But, God, it seems so insane! I mean, unfairness having purpose, unfairness accomplishing some kind of good! Surely, you would have a better way. Surely, none of this can truly fit in your plans! But it was my good plan to crush my son and cause him grief. My good plan prospered in my son’s hands. I was satisfied when I saw all that was accomplished by his anguish.
O Father! It is beginning to make sense in spite of all my faulty thinking. I look at myself and I look at unfairness, but I fail to see you in all of it. My son suffered, but there is glory still to be revealed because of his suffering. Don’t think it strange when life gets difficult and the muck surrounds you. Be glad instead that you can share in some small way in the plan I had for my son. I have not abandoned you nor forgotten you.
I silently withdraw and yet there is a part of me that would just like to unleash all the ugliness I could muster to retaliate against the unfairness. My son was led like a lamb to the slaughter, and as a sheep is silent before the shearers, he did not open his mouth. He never said a word. I would just like to have an inkling of an idea that someone truly cared – that I mattered – that I am worth something. No one cared that my son was despised. They turned their backs on him and looked the other way. No one cared that my son died without descendants, that his life was cut short in midstream.
But I haven’t done anything! I mean it would be different if I could see a wrong that I have done. That would give some reason for injustice being meted out against me. My son had done no wrong and had never deceived anyone. Others thought that I, his father, was the cause of his troubles, that I was punishing him for his own sins! He was beaten; he was whipped; he was buried like a criminal. He was counted among the rebels.
The unfairness has no reason, no purpose. What good could it possibly accomplish? My son carried your very own weaknesses; your very own sorrows weighed him down. He was pierced for your rebellion, crushed for your sins. I laid all of your sins on him. My son will make it possible for many to be counted righteous. But, God, it seems so insane! I mean, unfairness having purpose, unfairness accomplishing some kind of good! Surely, you would have a better way. Surely, none of this can truly fit in your plans! But it was my good plan to crush my son and cause him grief. My good plan prospered in my son’s hands. I was satisfied when I saw all that was accomplished by his anguish.
O Father! It is beginning to make sense in spite of all my faulty thinking. I look at myself and I look at unfairness, but I fail to see you in all of it. My son suffered, but there is glory still to be revealed because of his suffering. Don’t think it strange when life gets difficult and the muck surrounds you. Be glad instead that you can share in some small way in the plan I had for my son. I have not abandoned you nor forgotten you.
– Bev
(Related Bible reading: Isaiah 53:1-12)
