Come now, and let us reason together, saith
the LORD: though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be as white as
snow; though they be red like crimson, they shall be
as wool. Isaiah 1:18
The City Four Square
God's Will At The Right Place And The Right Time
So Rich a Crown - By:
J. Boyd Nicholson Sr.
He came, out from God, a gift from the Father's
heart. Descending from the throne high and lifted
up, He laid aside the garments of His majesty. The
train of that robe of light filled the heavenly
sanctuary with its radiance. Stepping down from the
infinities of uncreated light, He passed through the
creature realms of wondering angels, taking nothing
of them. Still downward He came to one of the
billions of His galaxies which He Himself had made.
There His destination hung, a speck of sunlit
stardust, so insignificant among gigantic suns and
island universes that only He could find it, for in
the eternal purposes of love and grace He had placed
it there as a paradise for His creature man.
He arrived on the dark side of the planet, for it
was night where He appeared. Yet that darkness must
give way and bow to the Effulgence of God. The night
sky blazed with glory. A multitude of angels
heralded God's praise in the heavens and man's
privilege and prospects on earth. Blessed creatures
indeed all they of the human race! The Son of God
had come to earth to bring heaven into their hearts
and them into heaven at last. Though full well He
knew the price His love would pay to make it so.
What a story of the glory of God on earth, walking,
working, weeping, among His creatures. Oh, how they
would welcome this visitor of love and sweetness to
this sordid world of tears and pain that man had
made out of the paradise of God! Ah, sad and
shameful is the record. He came, but there was no
room for Him. They wanted His bread in their mouths
but not His beneficent rule in their hearts. They
wanted His healing powers but not His holy claims.
They were filled with wonder at His grace but filled
with wrath at His truth.
At last, their hatred exceeded. They must find Him
and destroy Him. His radiance had exposed their
sins. Their insect consciences scurried for cover.
They mocked at His meekness and scorned His
compassion for sinners. They had made their
decision. The darkness they loved and therefore the
light they must extinguish.
Gethsemane! So they found Him at the garden of the
oil press . . . on the dark side of the planet. In
the night He had prayed in agony till His sweat like
great blooddrops fell to the ground. He had seen
what none else but God could see. He had surveyed
"the place afar off" where none else but He would
go, and He bowed to the Father's will. He stood
before their rabble mob, Holiness personified.
Love was His banner and compassion the beating of
His heart, even for those who hated Him without a
cause. His body bathed in the sweat of His anguish
and the traitor's kiss still wet upon His cheek,
they led Him away to the judgment of men.
Gabbatha! The soldiers gathered round in raucous
glee. "A King?" they mocked, "Then anoint Him" and
they spat in His lovely face. "A King? Then give Him
a robe," and they threw around His bleeding back a
soldier's cloak. "A King? Then give Him a staff of
authority" and they put a brittle reed into His
hand. "A King? Then give Him a crown" and they
pressed a crown of thorns upon His blessed brow. "A
King? Then He must have a throne," and they took Him
to Golgotha. There they nailed Him through His hands
and feet to the only throne men ever gave Him.
Yet out of this race of sinners they have come by
the millions. From habitations of cruelty and homes
of respectability, from hell-holes of ignorance and
halls of learning. Still they come! His cross, His
suffering love, has won their hearts. His beauty has
captured their affections. He is to them the
Altogether Lovely One. They are His and He is theirs
by eternal decree. Is it any wonder that, by faith,
they gather around Him week by week and show forth
His death, remembering with sweetest sadness the
giving of His body and the shedding of His precious
blood and looking forward "till He come"?-
When I survey the wondrous cross
On which the Prince of glory died,
My richest gain I count but loss,
And pour contempt on all my pride.
Forbid it Lord that I should boast,
Save in the Cross of Christ, my God;
All the vain things that charm me most,
I sacrifice them to His blood.
See from His head, His hands, His feet,
Sorrow and love flow mingled down;
Did e'er such love and sorrow meet,
Or thorns compose so rich a crown.
Were the whole realm of nature mine,
That were an offering far too small;
Love so amazing, so divine,
Demands my heart, my life, my all!