31 March 2010
Tell all the congregation of Israel that on the tenth day of this month every man shall take a lamb according to their fathers' houses, a lamb for a household...
Your lamb shall be without blemish, a male a year old... You may take it from the sheep or from the goats, and you shall keep it until the fourteenth day of this month, when the whole assembly of the congregation of Israel shall kill their lambs at twilight. “Then they shall take some of the blood and put it on the two doorposts and the lintel of the houses in which they eat it...
For I will pass through the land of Egypt that night, and I will strike all the firstborn in the land of Egypt, both man and beast; and on all the gods of Egypt I will execute judgments: I am the Lord. The blood shall be a sign for you, on the houses where you are. And when I see the blood, I will pass over you..." from Exodus 12
Not an Israelite by race, not good, not perfect...yet God lets me join those passed over. And not by the blood of a bleating, little lamb, but by the blood of His Son. His firstborn. The lamb of God. I struggle to think on the little lambs struggling. Yet, what did our Savior feel. Would knowing the outcome make the pain easier? The hurt would still be there. The nerves still intact. Blood still flowing real.
Passover has been on my heart this spring. The dark, the stillness, the passing over of those covered by the blood of lambs, the weeping of those with firstborn slain. Just a bit of my thoughts this sober week as I try to remember, try to connect with Him, try to truly say thank you, Jesus.
Humble thanks to Aunt Sharon and Mom Shupe for teaching me the art of cake decorating. May we think on the lamb who was slain this week.