As I continue grieving the loss of my dear wife, I was looking over the many wonderful cards of condolence I have received from friends and family. One quote especially caught my attention, from Isaiah 53:
Surely he has borne our griefs
and carried our sorrows.
I was familiar with this verse, but this time it was a great comfort to me and just filled my whole being with warmth and reassurance. Jesus is the “man of sorrows, who was acquainted with grief” (vs 3). He is no stranger to grief and sorrow; he has walked this way before us. He wept over news of the death of his friend Lazarus. He wept over Jerusalem—seeing them as sheep without a shepherd. He was despised and rejected by men, he knew “aloneness,” even to the point of feeling abandoned by the Father. “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me.”
It is Good Friday, and I am identifying with the “man of sorrows” in a unique way. My friend Ron Pederson once created a sculpture of steel, profoundly depicting the Man of Sorrows, an abstract figure bent over and suffering. At times like this, when we know deep personal grief and loss, we may consider ourselves to be a man of sorrows or woman of sorrows. And we have a friend in Jesus who was “acquainted with grief.” This thought is bringing comfort to my heart now, and I offer this comfort to you if you are in a place of suffering.
Truly, in his death on the cross he suffered for our sins: “He was pierced for our transgressions; he was crushed for our iniquities” (vs 5). The idea of substitution permeates the whole Old Testament system of animal sacrifices and the story of Israel’s redemption. Jesus was the ultimate Pascal Lamb who takes away the sins of the world. And because of this, we who believe can have forgiveness and redemption through his blood.
As a small boy, growing up in Chicago, we had a ragman who would push his cart through the alleyways of the city, calling out, “Rags, I take old rags.” Occasionally my mother would send me to give him some of our old rags. Walter Wangerin wrote a short story entitled “The Ragman” in which this ragman not only collects old rags but gives new ones in return. As the story goes on, one observing follows this unusual ragman on his path. He discovers that not only does the ragman trade new rags for old, but he also takes on the infirmities and heartaches of those he encounters and offers healing in return. The ragman eventually ends up weakened and dying on the garbage heap outside the city. The final words of the story are “The Ragman, The Ragman, The Christ,” a beautiful picture of Jesus taking on our sins on the cross and offering us new life in return.
But what does it mean that he has “borne” our griefs and “carried” our sorrows? Through his sacrificial death he can offer comfort in our grief and relief in our sorrows. All the devastating brokenness of this sinful world, with the resulting sickness and suffering and death and the crushing sense of loss that it brings—all of this he bore on the cross.
And because of this redeeming work he is ready and able to heal those of us who are brokenhearted and crushed in spirit (Psalm 34:18, 147:1). He is eager to minister to us in our weakness and time of need. And I am finding comfort in this truth today. I am basking in his love, his strong arms around me that will not let me go.
The Lord is near to the brokenhearted and saves the crushed in spirit (Psalm 34:18).
And not only this, “It’s Friday, but Sunday’s coming.” And this Easter Sunday will be special for me, and for all who have lost loved ones and await the day when the dead in Christ shall be raised with glorified, incorruptible bodies. And there will be no more sighing and no more crying and no more dying.
It is my prayer that if you are brokenhearted today, you will find comfort in the Man of Sorrows.
My heart was lifted as I listened again to this segment of Handel’s Messiah: “Comfort Ye My People, The Mouth of the Lord Has Spoken It.”
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0XukAd4apCg
