An infant, expelled from the warmth and soft comfort and protection of the womb, cries aloud when confronted with the state of this world. The harsh light, cold air, and roughness of the world on tender skin is truly a shock. And with nutrition no longer constantly supplied directly to the blood, the tiny body rebels against the insult and cries with its first pangs of hunger. This is not the world as it should have been– free from want, free from insult, free from pain.
Cutting the umbilical cord of complete provision produces an extreme fissure. This cut parallels the chasm existing between God and Man. The universe lies tragically and profoundly flawed and we stand now in a state diametrically opposed to the experience of innocence in the Garden. Our existence began in a place of perfect union with our Creator and His creation. He supplied our every need by surrounding us with nutritional delights, natural beauty, unhindered companionship, and perfect communion with Him– what more could we possibly want? And yet, we determined to "cut the cord" that connected us to that beautiful and complete Life.
The Son was born into this same desperately cruel world of our own making. And as a newborn, He undoubtedly cried out at the shock of it. As He gasped for a first breath of necessary oxygen, His new little lungs were filled with the acrid stink of animal urine and dung. And with each breath, millions of microbes– viruses, bacteria, and fungi– invaded Him with the intent to destroy His tiny body. No longer floating serenely in the perfect, fluid protection of Mary's womb, the sharp straws of a bed of hay now jabbed exposed areas of His skin. It is no wonder that any new baby would cry at such an assault, let alone the One Who had previously known only perfect and eternal bliss.
All other infants have no choice, but the Son entered this world by His own free will and volition– and only because He loved us so. Only this inestimable depth of love would be sufficient cause for such an undertaking. Rather than merely an emotional love, this love was true and intentional.
The cry of the newborn forms evidence enough that the universe lies separated from its Creator. But crying surely does not end with this. Though this initial shock of the world fades somewhat, throughout life the shocks and tragedies return, over and over, and often crying remains the only honest response. At the death of a close friend, Jesus wept. The Son came to experience all of life's pain with us, that He might ultimately release us from it all.
He greeted this broken world with His first cry, and as a Man He cried out again a final time as His life ebbed on the cross. With physical torture reaching its dark summit, and the Father's abandonment of His Son reaching its stark climax, Jesus cried out–
"Eloi, eloi, lama sabachthani?"
("My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?")
To stand on the last, crumbling edge of life, staring into the black abyss of a death vacant of the face of God, one can only cry out in absolute desperation. And Jesus, entering that horrific state on the world's behalf, cried out in terror unimaginable. The cry shook the world as an earthquake. And it shakes the world to this day.
The Son entered this rough, brutal life in the same manner as us. He suffered this sorrow-filled life as do we. And He endured the death that had been reserved for us, that we might not face that last, great agony.
"Therefore, since the children share in flesh and blood, He Himself likewise also partook of the same, that through death He might render powerless him who had the power of death, that is, the devil, and might free those who through fear of death were subject to slavery all their lives." (Hebrews 2:14-15 NASB)
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>>> Except for quotations, all text is Copyright, Bill Brockmeier, 2015. All rights reserved.
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