Wednesday of Holy Week. A relatively calm day outwardly, for Jesus continues teaching in the temple complex--seemingly without controversy--but all the while His enemies plot and plan the death of God. Think of it.
"And every day He was teaching in the temple, but at night He went out and lodged on the mount called Olivet. And early in the morning all the people came to Him in the temple to hear Him. Now the Feast of Unleavened Bread drew near, which is called the Passover. And the chief priests and the scribes were seeking how to put Him to death, for they feared the people." (Luke 21:37-2:2)
The religious elite were apparently not frightened by the wrath of God. They were not intimidated by the Son of God standing before them. They didn't worry about the opinion of their Creator and Sustainer right there in their midst. No, they schemed obsessively over how to kill the Messiah because "they feared the people."
You want to throw stones, boulders even, at these shallow power-grabbers. These fickle, manipulative leaders who should have been falling on their faces before their Redeemer...and instead flew in a rage and began plotting His destruction. How can that be?
These men should have been Israel's shepherds and guides, teaching and leading their flock to love, obey, and worship God...and His Anointed. But instead they lead the charge to reject Him and kill Him and thus rid themselves of this trouble-maker, this One who keeps uncomfortably shaking things up. And all because they feared man and man's opinion, man's accolades, man's rewards more than God. What a trade-off. Choosing the temporary over the eternal. The comfortable over the unknown adventure. The religious over the relationship. The dust over the divine.
I couldn't help but be reminded of the epithet that marks the resting place of one of Britain's greatest heroes in a London cathedral. The words read simply: "He fear man so little, because He feared God so much."
But not these religious leaders. Imagine it--they were scared of mere men and not Almighty God.
But even as I angrily wanted to gather stones to hurl at these plotters, God stopped me in my tracks. Who do I fear, really? What do I fear, really? Am I truly more concerned with God's opinion or with what others think of me? Because all too often...isn't it really fear of man that keeps us awake at night? Fear of what might happen to our children or our parents or our friends. Fear of failure. Fear of rejection. Fear of not having things go the way we want. Fear of being found out.
But here's the thing: God already knows it all anyway. We can't hide from Him. He knows our most secret thoughts and our most hidden dark sins. He knows our fears and our weaknesses. He knows all about that mess and muck in our lives that we'd die if others knew about it.
He knows all things. He created all things. He has the power to do all things. He is perfect and holy and majestic and unapproachable in His glory. And we are little dust people, often wagging our tiny, impotent fists in His awesome and fearsome face. How dare we?
Yet despite all He knows...despite His high and lofty position so infinitely far above ours...He passionately loves us little dust people anyway. He died for us anyway--"But God demonstrates His own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us." (Rom.5:8)
Sometimes you simply need to take a deep breath and let that astounding truth wash over you. Because if that doesn't rock your world, you need to step back and remember who you are, really. And Whose you are, really.
He is Aslan--the mighty Lion of Judah. Powerful beyond understanding. Pure and holy beyond imagining. Majestic and glorious beyond comprehension. And if we will redirect our fear to the One who is worthy, we will find all our other little fears suddenly diminished, even diminutive and insignificant.
In one of the my favorite scenes in The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, Lucy asks Beaver about this Aslan she's been hearing about, but not yet met. She wonders if he's a man--
"Aslan a man!" said Mr. Beaver sternly. "Certainly not. I tell you he is the King of the wood and the son of the great Emperor-beyond-the-Sea. Don't you know who is the King of Beasts? Aslan is a lion - the Lion, the great Lion."
"Ooh!" said Susan. "I thought he was a man. Is he - quite safe? I shall feel rather nervous about meeting a lion."
"That you will, dearie, and no mistake," said Mrs. Beaver; "if there's anyone who can appear before Aslan without their knees knocking, they're either braver than most or else just silly."
"Then he isn't safe?" said Lucy."Safe?" said Mr. Beaver; "don't you hear what Mrs. Beaver tells you? Who said anything about safe? 'Course he isn't safe. But he's good. He's the King, I tell you."
No, He is not safe! Who would want to worship a King of Kings who was safe and small? He is high and lifted up and Almighty and glorious...but He is so, so good and full of grace and forgiveness and kindness and love. Truly, truly wondrous and amazing.
Thank You, Lord Jesus, that You are not a mere man. We praise You as the King of Kings and the Lord of Lords...who descended so infinitely far down to save a wretch like me, like us. Oh might we fear You--not man--and might the result be profound gratitude and joyous worship. For you are worthy.
To God--our Aslan--be all the glory.
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