Key verse:“He lifted me out of the slimy pit, out of the mud and mire; he set my feet on a rock and gave me a firm place to stand. He put a new song in my mouth, a hymn of praise to our God. Many will see and fear the Lord and put their trust in Him.” Psalm 40:2
This is not a typical devotion. I’m not experienced in exegesis or explaining the scriptures, but I have been known to tell a story or two. And this verse reminds me of one, so that’s what I’ll do.
The story is not mine. My mother’s older brother, my Uncle Ed, tells it. It’s about something that happened when he was a little boy, about eight years old.
The family lived on a small farm in northern Missouri. It was only 100 acres, but they had 40 acres in rotating crops, a pasture with a pond for twenty or so milk cows, a flock of chickens, an apple orchard and a big garden to grow vegetables. It was enough to support them. My mother and her brothers never went hungry. There was no running water in the house, but they did have a spring-fed well in the yard. When I was a kid, I remember the fun of pumping that pump, waiting for the water to gush out, clear and cold. Of course by then, they had water in the house, but when my uncle was young, it wasn’t fun to pump the well. Hauling water was an essential chore for cooking and washing.
Life becomes desperately hard when there isn’t sufficient water. So when my grandparents’ well stopped working, it was an emergency. The family needed that well, so my grandfather removed the cement lid, pulled out the pump and all the pipes and shined a lantern down into the rock-lined well. All he could see was black mud in the bottom. The spring was clogged up.
There was nothing for it. Someone had to go down and clear it out. So, my grandfather tied a roped around my Uncle Ed and lowered him down with a bucket, which was also on a long rope. He was supposed to fill the bucket with muck and tug the rope for his dad to haul the mud up. Again and again and again, As long as it took until there were only smooth stones with water bubbling up between them again.
My uncle is a good man, so I know he was a good boy. I know he wanted to help his father. He wanted to be brave. But once he reached the bottom of the well, his feet sank into that gunk. It was dark and damp and he couldn’t see them but he was sure there were wriggling creatures in there with him. Maybe even a snake or two. And the sky overhead where his father was holding the other end of the rope seemed so far away—just a circle of blue.
My Uncle Ed was afraid and he started to cry.
My grandmother heard him from inside the house and she came out and told my grandfather to pull him back up. Then, she had my grandpa lower her down into the well with the bucket and she stayed there until the water was starting to slowly fill the well again.
She knew what was down in that dark well, all the slimy, nasty muck with unseen wrigglers, but she still took my uncle’s place.
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| The Hand of God by Yongsung Kim |
Now I’m going to make a sharp pivot, but please bear with me.
Next Sunday is Palm Sunday, the day Jesus entered Jerusalem riding a donkey. Some people think that indicates that He was humble. He was, but He was also modeling the triumphal entry of previous Jewish kings. David and Solomon didn’t enter the city on war horses. They came riding a donkey, an animal of surprising strength for its size and representative of peace. Jesus was declaring Himself King of the Jews. On that Sunday, Jerusalem was already in a festive mood because Passover was coming. The arrival of a king was icing on the cake. They were ready to rejoice!
But Jesus knew their welcome would be short-lived. He knew what waited for him in Jerusalem and it wasn’t a king’s crown. It was a crown of thorns. In less than a week, the people who cheered and waved palm branches and laid their cloaks on the ground so his donkey could walk over them were the same people who would cry for Barabbas to be released instead of Him.
When Jesus rode into Jerusalem, He knew he’d be betrayed by one of disciples and denied by his closest friends. He knew he’d be stripped and humiliated, beaten and have his beard ripped out. He’d be spat upon. He knew he would die in agony.
And He also knew there was no other way for atonement to be made for my sin. And your sin. And the sin of the whole world.
He took my place.
I ask a lot of questions that don’t get answered. Most often it’s the questions that start with “Why…”
But in this case, I do know why Jesus was willing to take the punishment my sin deserves. It’s the same reason my grandmother had herself lowered down into that well in the place of her son.
Love.
Love sent Jesus to save us. Love made Him set His face steadfastly toward Jerusalem and no one could turn Him from His purpose. He didn’t come to be a teacher, or a good example, though He was that. He didn’t come to do miracles, and heal people and raise the dead, though He did that too. He didn’t come to be a worldly king, though He could have had the world at his feet in a heartbeat.
Jesus came as the Lamb of God. He came to lay down His life to be the perfect substitute for us. To exchange our sinfulness for His holiness. Love made him take our place in the pit. And His love reaches down to us and waits for us to respond, to sing with the psalmist:
He lifted me out of the slimy pit, out of the mud and mire; he set my feet on a rock and gave me a firm place to stand. He put a new song in my mouth, a hymn of praise to our God.
And what better hymn to sing in response than “What Wondrous Love is this, O my soul?”
