The Root

Last year during Lent, in the middle of dinner, our five year old Luke started talking abstractly about the desert. The hair stood up on my arm. I knew what was going on. I asked Luke to expand a bit more. He said that if we took seeds to the desert and scattered and planted them the waters would come up from under the ground and make the land good. Very profound Isaiah like thought - especially mentioning water coming up out of the desert.

At that moment I asked Luke to close his eyes and say, "Speak Lord, for your servant is listening." So Luke bowed his head and closed his eyes and prayed the line. He sat there for a couple of moments and then opened his eyes in wonder, "I see a Lamb in the desert."

Luke, who do you think that is?

Jesus!

You're right bud.

I knew what Luke was going to say next because of the passage of scripture the Spirit gave me right then. Luke went back to eating dinner for a minute, then he looked at me curiously and said, "You know what else I see in the desert? I see a little sprout."

I turned to Dar and quoted Isaiah 53:2 where the prophet speaks of the Suffering Servant, "He grew up before him like a tender shoot, and like a root out of dry ground."

For there are many who begin and never reach the end.
I believe that this is due largely to a failure to
embrace the cross from the beginning.
Teresa of Avila

Christ, I repeat, is to us just what his cross is.
You do not understand Christ
until you understand his cross.
P.T. Forsyth

I wrote "The Root" in my early 20's.

The Root
A shroud of deafening silence entombed the whole valley
The sky was dark as the first day of creation
On the crest of a hill, a lifeless tree groaned in the empty silence
One last drop of blood trickled down its icy trunk
Stalwart branches, a curse to all who fell upon them
Protruding from the earth, giant shards of glass
Effortlessly leaching life from their prey
Submitting finally, despairingly to the beckoning dust

the aborted Offspring of David
the smouldering Morning Star
pierced steadfastly with talons of cold iron
tattered flesh suspended limply between two kingdoms

vacant of Spirit
the tree stirred
the tree trembled
the tree quaked at its base

In a flash with a burst of lightning
the tree sent a giant root
straight through the core of the earth
the earth lept off its axis
rocks split – titanic force
the holiest place shredded
beneath the power of heavenly hands
mockers strewn like broken twigs on a hearth
It was finished

And gently it began to rain
blood and water mingling
at the foot of the newborn tree
feeding hungry roots
silently cascading toward the walls of the city
at Pentecost they would strangle Jerusalem
then onward to the four corners of the earth

The cross bore roots when our Lord and Saviour died
And now He is alive, and so is His cross
Growing like a strong sapling in hearts redeemed by His blood
The world is his fertile nursery
The seed produces roots all on its own
So be it
So let it be done
Amen

To me, the cross is the most visually demanding thing ever humanly conceived. The swastika is a close second. The swastika’s bent arms at least denote movement. The cross is just there – as ugly and consuming as it can be. Since I was a kid, if I have ever been in a church with a cross in its auditorium I have sat staring at that thing for half the worship service. Something of my humanness is drawn to the cross. It is such a complete and controlling structure.

In spite of such power and control, there is not a single right angle in the entire body of Jesus Christ. Not a single physical mathematical attribute to measure or manipulate Him. But, the cross of Jesus Christ stands up stalwart and repulsive against the spherical beauty of Creation and the slender fragile curves of his human body.

All of Creation was pierced and pulled into the horrid hush of Jesus’ last moments. The sky fled from his piercing eyes and twisting bones. The earth quaked as his blood poured down into the ground. On the cross, the sphere of the Trinity was nailed to earth. A sphere that first opened at his birth. At his birth, the Morning Star burst forth from the throne room of the Father. At his death, that same star gave up its gravitational field and a supernova of glory filled the earth.

See, I lay a stone in Zion, a tested stone,
a precious cornerstone for a sure foundation;
the one who trusts will never be dismayed.
I will make justice the measuring line
and righteousness the plumb line;
Isaiah 28:16-17

So friends, we can now – without hesitation –
walk right up to God, into “the Holy Place.”
Jesus has cleared the way by the blood of his sacrifice,
acting as our priest before God.
The “curtain” into God’s presence is his body.
Hebrews 10:19-20