His wounds healed this prodigal {Good Friday}

I’m a prodigal. I grew up as the preacher kid and then ran fast and far in the other direction trying to “find myself” — leaving a wake of hurt in my path. In fact just writing that sentence reminds me of the pain I caused, and a heaviness drops down on me. Tears can still come so easy.

By God’s absolute grace, after years of selfish living, my Father-God said “Enough, my child. Enough.”

I was twenty-fourish, post-college, self-absorbed, living at the beach with friends. I had fled the restaurant business and decided to work in my field at a group home called the Yahweh Center. (Yep. Literally. God has a sense of humor.)

One early morning, before the sun, I arrived for my shift. As I got out of my car a stranger approached me. Being a naïve young woman, I thought he probably just needed directions. Then I realized he had a gun. And he had it pointed towards my face.

His eyes shifted feverishly. I held out my hands offering him the keys to my car. He stepped in close. With the smell of stale smoke on his breath he grunted out, “Your bag.” He yanked my bag off my shoulder, winning himself about five dollars and a book, then ran to his car and drove off.

I stood there alone in the dark. Breathless. Frozen.

The next thirty seconds felt like an eternity as I finally made one foot move in front of the other to the door of…the Yahweh Center. And over the next few months, God worked unimaginable change into my heart. He worked unimaginable healing into my soul. He opened my eyes to the gift of Jesus’ wounds.

 

flickr photo credit

 

This day — Good Friday — is good because without Jesus’ wounds, I’d still have a debt to pay. I’d still deserve the judgment of my holy Maker. But instead, Jesus took what I deserve and in return offered me purity. Just as He offers you.

He took what we all deserve. Whether we’ve lived in blatant rebellion or quiet pride, we all have a debt to pay to the holy One. And He said that without the shedding of blood there can be no forgiveness of sins. (Hebrews 9:22)

So Jesus — the perfect, unblemished Lamb of God (John 1:29) — bled. He took the nails and whips. He took the insults and spit. He took the rejection and hatred. He bore the weight of judgment on Himself, for you and for me. Because He loves. (John 3:16; John 15:12-13)

 

But he was wounded for our transgressions;
he was crushed for our iniquities;
upon him was the chastisement that brought us peace,
and with his stripes we are healed.
 
All we like sheep have gone astray;
we have turned – every one – to his own way;
and the Lord has laid on him
the iniquity of us all.
 
Isaiah 53:5-6

 

It isn’t lighthearted and fluffy. It isn’t easy to think about. It isn’t pretty. But sin never is.

Today I remember my own rebellious heart. I remember how far I can go when left to myself. I remember all that I deserve. And I bow before that bloody cross, with the taste of salty tears on my lips, and I simply say “Thank You God.”

Grasping the gift of Jesus’ wounds changes everything.

 

Fill me, Lord…

Why do you call this day good?