So this has been an amazing week for me. I have felt the Holy Spirit so strongly in my life each day. Today I would like to share with you some thoughts I have about our Heavenly Father. The more that I have studied about Him, the more marveled I become. So many times we focus more on Christ and all that He did for us. Jesus came down from the Kingdom of Heaven and die for each and every one of us. To think that He would love us so much He not only did this, but did so voluntarily. But what about His and our Father? How hard must it have been for Him to give up His only Son?
I am not currently a father, but I have a dad who loves me more than life. I know he does because I can feel it each and every time I talk to him. Every time we share a moment of bonding. I can’t imagine how hard it must be for a father to loose his son. How can we even attempt to comprehend how hard this must have been for our Father to give His Only Begotten Son?
John 3: 16 For God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son, that whoever believes in Him should not perish but have everlasting life. God knew from the beginning what was in store for His Son. He knew the pain and the suffering Jesus would go through. But He also understood that this had to happen so that each of us could be saved and return to Him. I heard this story a while ago and would like to share it with you now. This gives such a good illustration of God’s love. It is called “Clean Blood”.
The day is over, you are driving home. You tune in your radio. You hear a little blurb about a little village in India where some villagers have died suddenly, strangely, of a flu that has never been seen before.
It's not influenza, but three or four fellows are dead, and it's kind of interesting. They're sending some doctors over there to investigate it. You don't think much about it,
But on Sunday, coming home from church, you hear another radio spot. Only they say it's not three villagers, it's 30,000 villagers in the back hills of this particular area of India, and it's on TV that night.
CNN runs a little blurb; people are heading there from the disease center in Atlanta because this disease strain has never been seen before.
By Monday morning when you get up, it's the lead story. For it's not just India; it's Pakistan, Afghanistan, Iran, and before you know it, you're hearing this story everywhere, and they have coined it now as "the mystery flu."
The President has made some comment that he and everyone are praying and hoping that all will go well over there. But everyone is wondering, "How are we going to contain it?" That's when the President of France makes an announcement that shocks Europe. He is closing their borders; no flights from India, Pakistan, or any of the countries where this thing has been seen.
That night you are watching a little bit of CNN before going to bed. Your jaw hits your chest when a weeping woman is translated from a French news program into English: "There's a man lying in a hospital in Paris dying of the mystery flu. It has come to Europe."
Panic strikes! As best they can tell, once you get it, you have it for a week, and you don't know it. Then you have four days of unbelievable symptoms. Then you die.
Britain closes it's borders, but it's too late. South Hampton, Liverpool, North Hampton, are already affected.
It's Tuesday morning when the President of the United States makes the following announcement: "Due to a national security risk, all flights to and from Europe and Asia have been canceled. If your loved ones are overseas, I'm sorry. They cannot come back until we find a cure for this thing."
Within four days the nation has been plunged into an unbelievable fear. People are selling little masks for your face. People are talking about what if it comes to this country, and preachers on Tuesday are saying, "It's the scourge of God."
It's Wednesday night, and you are at a church prayer meeting when somebody runs in from the parking lot and says, "Turn on a radio, turn on a radio!" While the church listens to a little transistor radio with a microphone stuck up to it, the announcement is made, "Two women are lying in a Long Island hospital dying from the mystery flu."
Within hours it seems, This thing just sweeps across the country. People are working around the clock trying to find an antidote. Nothing is working. California, Oregon, Arizona, Florida, Massachusetts. It's as though it's just sweeping in from the borders.
Then, all of a sudden the news comes out. The code has been broken. A cure can be found. A vaccine can be made. It's going to take the blood of somebody who hasn't been infected, and so, sure enough, all through the Midwest, through all those channels of emergency broadcasting.
Everyone is asked to do one simple thing: "Go to your downtown hospital and have your blood type taken. That's all we ask of you. When you hear the sirens go off in your neighborhood, please make your way quickly, quietly, and safely to the hospitals." Sure enough, when you and your family get down there late on that Friday night, there is a long line,
They've got nurses and doctors coming out and pricking fingers and taking blood and putting labels on it. Your wife and your kids are out there, and they take your blood type and they say, "Wait here in the parking lot and if we call your name, you can be dismissed and go home." You stand around scared with your neighbors, wondering what in the world is going on, and wondering if this is the end of the world.
Suddenly a young man comes running out of the hospital screaming. He's yelling a name and waving a clipboard. What? He yells it again! And your son tugs on your jacket and says, "Daddy, that's me." Before you know it, they have grabbed your boy. "Wait a minute, hold it!" And they say, "It's okay, his blood is clean. His blood is pure. We want to make sure he doesn't have the disease.
We think he has got the right type." Five tense minutes later, out come the doctors and nurses, crying and hugging one another and some are even laughing. It's the first time you have seen anybody laugh in a week.
An old doctor valks up to you and says, "Thank you, sir. Your son's blood type is perfect. It's clean, it is pure, and we can make the vaccine." As the word begins to spread all across that parking lot full of folks, people are screaming and praying and laughing and crying.
But then the gray-haired doctor pulls you and your wife aside and says, "May we see you for a moment? We didn't realize that the donor would be a minor, and we need you to sign a consent form."
You begin to sign and then you see that the number of pints of blood to be taken is empty. "H-h-h-how many pints?" And that is when the old doctor's smile fades and he says, "We had no idea it would be a little child. We weren't prepared. We need it all!" "But, but..." "You don't understand. We are talking about the world here. Please sign.
"But can't you give him a transfusion?" "If we had clean blood we would. Can you sign? Would you sign?" Ask this of yourselves. In numb silence you do. Then they say, "Would you like to have a moment with him before we begin?"
Can you walk back? Can you walk back to that room where he sits on a table saying, "Daddy? Mommy? What's going on?" Can you take his hands and say, "Son, your mommy and I love you, and we would never ever let anything happen to you that didn't just have to be. Do you understand that?"
And when that old doctor comes back in and says, "I'm sorry, we've-- we've got to get started. People all over the world are dying." Can you leave? Can you walk out while he is saying, "Dad? Mom? Dad? Why, why have you forsaken me?"
And then next week, when they have the ceremony to honor your son, and some folks sleep through it, and some folks don't even come because they go to the lake, and some folks come with a pretentious smile and just pretend to care.
Would you want to jump up and say, "MY SON DIED FOR YOU! DON'T YOU CARE?"
But on Sunday, coming home from church, you hear another radio spot. Only they say it's not three villagers, it's 30,000 villagers in the back hills of this particular area of India, and it's on TV that night.
CNN runs a little blurb; people are heading there from the disease center in Atlanta because this disease strain has never been seen before.
By Monday morning when you get up, it's the lead story. For it's not just India; it's Pakistan, Afghanistan, Iran, and before you know it, you're hearing this story everywhere, and they have coined it now as "the mystery flu."
The President has made some comment that he and everyone are praying and hoping that all will go well over there. But everyone is wondering, "How are we going to contain it?" That's when the President of France makes an announcement that shocks Europe. He is closing their borders; no flights from India, Pakistan, or any of the countries where this thing has been seen.
That night you are watching a little bit of CNN before going to bed. Your jaw hits your chest when a weeping woman is translated from a French news program into English: "There's a man lying in a hospital in Paris dying of the mystery flu. It has come to Europe."
Panic strikes! As best they can tell, once you get it, you have it for a week, and you don't know it. Then you have four days of unbelievable symptoms. Then you die.
Britain closes it's borders, but it's too late. South Hampton, Liverpool, North Hampton, are already affected.
It's Tuesday morning when the President of the United States makes the following announcement: "Due to a national security risk, all flights to and from Europe and Asia have been canceled. If your loved ones are overseas, I'm sorry. They cannot come back until we find a cure for this thing."
Within four days the nation has been plunged into an unbelievable fear. People are selling little masks for your face. People are talking about what if it comes to this country, and preachers on Tuesday are saying, "It's the scourge of God."
It's Wednesday night, and you are at a church prayer meeting when somebody runs in from the parking lot and says, "Turn on a radio, turn on a radio!" While the church listens to a little transistor radio with a microphone stuck up to it, the announcement is made, "Two women are lying in a Long Island hospital dying from the mystery flu."
Within hours it seems, This thing just sweeps across the country. People are working around the clock trying to find an antidote. Nothing is working. California, Oregon, Arizona, Florida, Massachusetts. It's as though it's just sweeping in from the borders.
Then, all of a sudden the news comes out. The code has been broken. A cure can be found. A vaccine can be made. It's going to take the blood of somebody who hasn't been infected, and so, sure enough, all through the Midwest, through all those channels of emergency broadcasting.
Everyone is asked to do one simple thing: "Go to your downtown hospital and have your blood type taken. That's all we ask of you. When you hear the sirens go off in your neighborhood, please make your way quickly, quietly, and safely to the hospitals." Sure enough, when you and your family get down there late on that Friday night, there is a long line,
They've got nurses and doctors coming out and pricking fingers and taking blood and putting labels on it. Your wife and your kids are out there, and they take your blood type and they say, "Wait here in the parking lot and if we call your name, you can be dismissed and go home." You stand around scared with your neighbors, wondering what in the world is going on, and wondering if this is the end of the world.
Suddenly a young man comes running out of the hospital screaming. He's yelling a name and waving a clipboard. What? He yells it again! And your son tugs on your jacket and says, "Daddy, that's me." Before you know it, they have grabbed your boy. "Wait a minute, hold it!" And they say, "It's okay, his blood is clean. His blood is pure. We want to make sure he doesn't have the disease.
We think he has got the right type." Five tense minutes later, out come the doctors and nurses, crying and hugging one another and some are even laughing. It's the first time you have seen anybody laugh in a week.
An old doctor valks up to you and says, "Thank you, sir. Your son's blood type is perfect. It's clean, it is pure, and we can make the vaccine." As the word begins to spread all across that parking lot full of folks, people are screaming and praying and laughing and crying.
But then the gray-haired doctor pulls you and your wife aside and says, "May we see you for a moment? We didn't realize that the donor would be a minor, and we need you to sign a consent form."
You begin to sign and then you see that the number of pints of blood to be taken is empty. "H-h-h-how many pints?" And that is when the old doctor's smile fades and he says, "We had no idea it would be a little child. We weren't prepared. We need it all!" "But, but..." "You don't understand. We are talking about the world here. Please sign.
"But can't you give him a transfusion?" "If we had clean blood we would. Can you sign? Would you sign?" Ask this of yourselves. In numb silence you do. Then they say, "Would you like to have a moment with him before we begin?"
Can you walk back? Can you walk back to that room where he sits on a table saying, "Daddy? Mommy? What's going on?" Can you take his hands and say, "Son, your mommy and I love you, and we would never ever let anything happen to you that didn't just have to be. Do you understand that?"
And when that old doctor comes back in and says, "I'm sorry, we've-- we've got to get started. People all over the world are dying." Can you leave? Can you walk out while he is saying, "Dad? Mom? Dad? Why, why have you forsaken me?"
And then next week, when they have the ceremony to honor your son, and some folks sleep through it, and some folks don't even come because they go to the lake, and some folks come with a pretentious smile and just pretend to care.
Would you want to jump up and say, "MY SON DIED FOR YOU! DON'T YOU CARE?"
Is that what God is saying? "MY SON DIED FOR YOU. DON'T YOU KNOW HOW MUCH I CARE?" "Father, seeing it from your eyes breaks our hearts. Maybe now we begin to comprehend the great love you have for us. Amen"
- Author Anonymous
This brings tears to my eyes no matter how many times I read it. God has so much love for each one of us. How can we sit there and not care about it? How can we put anything in the world before Him? How can we go throughout each day and not even take the time to talk to Him. To tell Him how grateful we are for what He did for us.
We truly have a Father in Heaven who loves us. He knew that as hard as it was to do, it was something that "Just had to be". He gave up His ONLY begotten Son for each and every on of you! And I can promise you this, if you were the only person to ever come to this Earth, our Father and Christ would each do the same thing. Even if it was just for you and nobody else.
If you would like a great set of scriptures which speak of the love God has for us, I challenge you to read the book of Malachi. It is absolutly amazing!
Malachi poses a question to us in this book. How can we take comfort in the love of God if we don't feel loved? What if circumstances seem to say that God is ignoring us, that He has abandoned us to our own pain, and that He is deliberately withholding from us what He could so easily grant?
Malachi, a messenger to God's "chosen people," assures us that we are not the first to ask such questions. He gives us a chance to see why the love of God is one of the most misunderstood truths in the Bible.
-Martin R. De Haan II-
God loves us! God wants us to be close to Him. Just as any earthly father of ours would. He wants us to talk to Him, to rely on Him, to trust in Him. It is my prayer and my challenge for each of us to come to know God just a little better in our lives. He has done so much for us so that we can return to be with Him, let's all take a little more effort of our own to return the favor!
No comments:
Post a Comment