For the unpopular, the ugly, Jesus cares
A quick message on this, a terribly busy day. It was on Sunday last that he said it. “Go to Isaiah 53.” And I did…
In this high and holy season, my heart, it stirs. My thoughts have been in another country, another time. With another small mother. With her child.
I feel a longing down into my bones. I want to absorb; to take in the message of Christmas. To feel, to taste, to breathe, to know the Truth of it waaaayyy down into my core. More than lights. More than presents, but to know.
For days, now, I’ve lingered in Isaiah, seeing (really seeing) my Christ there in print.“He had no form or comeliness that we should look at Him, and no beauty that we should desire Him.”
I stop. Ahh. I think of the paintings, the pictures of Christ. Usually bearded. So serene. Always handsome. But this…
Here on these pages, the truth. He had no stunning form (do you hear that?), no Schwarzenegger body. No jaw-dropping handsomeness that drew one’s gaze. He was, what? Ugly? Distasteful? It seems sacrilegious, this thinking.
I read on.“He was despised and rejected of men. A man of sorrows and acquainted with grief. Like One from Whom people hide their faces, He was despised, and we did not appreciate His worth or have any esteem for Him.”
My goodness. Jesus knew rejection. He knew the hatred, the looking-down-the-nose. Knew the pains of not quite fitting in. He was, after all, the illegitimate kid born to poor working folks. Surely He heard the whispers, saw fingers that pointed. He heard playground taunts of children passing on what their own parents were saying.
He. Was. Different. Not handsome. Not popular. Not received.
He didn’t belong.
At these words, a piece of my heart is responding. For I, too, know the wounds rejection brings. It’s tough, being the outsider, and it’s tough on one’s children. For the world judges by shifting, temporal measures. By a last name. By sports prowess. By bank accounts and by titles. By a long, storied history in one place; roots right here.
In Scripture’s pages, consolation. Understanding. Deep acceptance and favor. For my suffering Savior, He knows. And He bears.“Surely, He has borne our griefs and carried our sorrows…He was wounded for our transgressions. He was bruised for our iniquities. The chastisement (punishment for) our peace was upon Him, and with His stripes, we are healed.”
For anyone who’s ever been judged or rejected. Been deemed “not enough” or “too poor.” For the one who’s not been the star of field or stage; doesn’t look like Victoria or her secret. For the working-poor soul from bad beginnings. For the one who has been cast aside, Jesus knows.
Christ knows. We’re in the best of all Company, and His wounds paid the price for our healing.
How I love Him! Because of Jesus, I am free. Because of Him, I’m made whole. Because of Christ, I’m accepted. Because of Him, I’m adored.
I belong. I’m adopted. I’m accepted, unfinished as I am. And so are you. If this is you, my friend, then your dear heart fits right in here. Christ heals, and He comes for you, too.
Look to Jesus in this Christmas season and be understood. Be healed. Be saved. Every promise is ‘yes,’ and the future is bright. Hallelujah forever and amen.
For the One Whose back took the stripes,
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