The Darling of Heaven

13 04 2009

The last time I remember singing the song “Worthy is the Lamb” was at a church service when I was over nine months pregnant.  At the time, I only knew Drew as an alien being who did consecutive somersaults when I ate chocolate and who daily practiced punting my bladder.  While singing this song, however, one aspect of my parental relationship suddenly became absolutely clear.  The chorus of the song begins with the words “Worthy is the Lamb, Seated on the Throne…”  and it resolves with the line “The Darling of Heaven was crucified – Worthy is the Lamb”.  I remember distinctly belting out the first few words passionately with as much breathe as I could muster from my pregnant lungs.  But as I began the final line, my hands resting on my swelling stomach, I had to halt quite abruptly.  “The Darling of heaven crucified…” – that thought echoed over and over.  The darling son of God was crucified by God’s own choice.   I choked on the words and the sudden spiritual reality that God the Father had given his one and only son overwhelmed me.  My tears fell uncontrollably over the bump that was my baby.   Sacrificing His only son – what had God been thinking??  Feigning fatigue and not wanting to sing anymore, I quickly sat down…

This Easter morning at church, we sang “Worthy is the Lamb” again.  And I was again reminded of the absurd love of the Father God.  My entire maternal being revolts at the thought, yet at the same time, I stand in stupified awe.  Over the course of my single life I’ve had a few moments that I have naively claimed as “Abraham and Isaac” moments.  Times when God called me to sacrifice the thing I most loved or most wanted for His Glory, and on several occasions (including my relationship to Dr. Daddy) God has provided the ram in the bushes and given me the things I love back with an even a greater love for Him.  Since Drew was born, however, I’ve realized how far off I was to ever consider those as Abraham/Isaac moments – none of those circumstances ever required me to sacrifice my son – to give him up or to watch him suffer.  How did Abraham do it?  How did God do it?  My ferocious maternal love that wants to throttle the kid who pushes Drew down at the playground seems a force too strong to ever sit by and watch my son suffer and die.  But I guess that just exaggerates the greatest paradox of the Greatest Love of all.  I cannot fathom it.

Oh the Wonderful Cross, O the Wonderful Cross

Bids me come and die to find that I might truly live.

Happy Resurrection Day!


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