Like a lamb led to the slaughtering block,
like a sheep silent before her shearers,
he did not even open his mouth. (Isaiah 53:7)
I was bent over the bed, bare bottom exposed. “You,” here Dad stopped to administer a smack with the belt, “…will,” another pause and another swat, “…never,” spank, “…lie...”
Before the next stroke came, I stood bolt upright, yanked up my pants, and said, “Okay, I’ll never lie again.”
Needless to say, there were more swats to follow.
At Jesus’s flogging, each stroke came with a word that imparted my sin—hatred (crack), gossip (thump), hypocrisy (crunch). Then came the nails—evil thoughts (clang), pettiness (ching). I’m so glad he didn’t stop in the middle and say, “Okay, enough.” Instead, he remained silent, and absorbed every last, sin.
Jesus voluntarily remained on the cross as he was beaten, until he was no longer recognizable. He remained utterly silent as he was maimed for my sin. That silence knifes a truth to my heart—mature love is absorbent. With every cut of the whip, and each thud in his face, he took on more of my villainy.
Now, here I am, trying to love as I have been loved. I wrestle with temptation and struggle with trials, but the most difficult test is absorbing the evil of others. Can I be gracious when they cause injury with intent? Can I enter their world of pain and draw some of it away? Do I have absorbent love?
A dry sponge only pushes spills around. It must first be saturated, then wrung out. I’m of no use to God until I’m saturated with an awareness of my own guilt, and then have it wrung out of me by the work of the cross. I’m left emptied of my sin, but humble, malleable, and absorbent to others.
Prayer: Father, let me be a sponge in your hand, ready to absorb.