This Holy Week, I’m going to be blogging each day, tracing the tears Jesus shed for Jerusalem to the tear filled eyes who first saw the Risen Christ. Throughout I’ll be following prompts from #OurHolyWeek
It was the greatest act of service.
Taking the cup of suffering so that our suffering may be redeemed, that one day we will see an end to our suffering.
The picture of Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane is one which never fails to bring a lump to my throat. It is the greatest agony ever experienced; and yet He did not run or swerve the job ahead of Him.
Service demands sacrifice; whether the ultimate sacrifice that Jesus offered, or the million mundane acts of service which sacrifice our time or enjoyment.
Love involves a multitude of acts of service; from having a house full of lycra (my sacrifice), having a house full of rose gold accessories (my husband’s sacrifice) or the nappies that need to be changed (a joint sacrifice for our son!)
And the humbling act of service Jesus performed as He washed his disciples feet was just a foretaste to what was to come.
The blood tinged sweat which adorned his brow as He prayed:
“My Father, if it is possible, may this cup(E) be taken from me. Yet not as I will, but as you will.”
Jesus’ death was the pinnacle of His service. But He had already endured thirty-three years of a messy human life from the moment he was born and laid in a manger. He relinquished His place in heaven so that we may have a chance to have ours.
“God entered time and became a man, he who was boundless became bound. Imprisoned in flesh. Restricted by weary-prone muscles and eyelids. For more than three decades, his once limitless reach would be limited to the stretch of an arm, his speed checked to the pace of human feet.”
The next time I moan about the small acts of service life demands; I want to remember the sacrificial service that Jesus did for our sake, not only in His death, but in His life.