trbccoffeebreak

“But He was wounded for our transgressions, He was bruised for our iniquities. The chastisement for our peace was upon Him, and by His stripes we are healed.” -Isaiah 53:10

Do you get this? Really? If you’re a new Christian, the astounding fact of Jesus’ sacrifice may be fresh in your mind and heart. But, maybe, if you’re older in the faith, you’ve let this Truth settle in under layers of (worthwhile) Bible study, years of Christian serving, and a certain “comfort” in your salvation.

Sisters, this was me several years ago. My walk of 16 years had been filled with the fires of refinement, and the Lord was constantly teaching me through trial after trial. But it wasn’t until my son was brutally attacked that Isaiah’s prophetic words became palpable.

One day in math class, my son was talking and laughing with his friend about some shared experience in another class. A girl seated across the room, who felt like she was being mocked, somehow perceived my son’s laughter to be directed at her—which it was not. She stood up, walked to his desk, picked up his half-full CamelBak water bottle…and proceeded to strike him in the head several times. As his blood streamed down his face onto his crisp ROTC uniform, she ran out.

When I got to the school minutes later, my only concern was for my son’s condition. My emotions were all over the place—shock, fear, anger. But once we got him home from the hospital (after multiple staples placed in his head), my husband and I met with the school’s police officer and learned the girl had just transferred to this high school from another city, where she’d been relentlessly bullied. She was deeply hurting. The next day, we met with her mom (and the officer) and shared that we (and our son) forgave her daughter and were not pressing assault charges. We talked about the Lord and prayed with her and the officer for her daughter’s emotional healing and salvation.

Days later, while I was walking the dog and talking with the Lord about the incident, He brought Isaiah 53 to my mind. And I literally fell to my knees on the street with the revelation: My son was wounded for someone else’s transgression, beaten so another person could know salvation and be free. But my son, unlike God’s Son, was not maimed beyond recognition…and He was not hung on a tree to die. As I sat there in the street, tears streamed down my face in thanksgiving for the infinitesimal taste I’d been given of the Father’s sacrifice—how God had to silently watch His Son suffer and die for someone else. For me.

“Father God, may I never get comfortable with what Jesus did on the cross. That I constantly stay in awe of His sacrifice—and Yours—for my healing.”

For His Glory

Julianne Winkler Smith
TRBC Women’s Life