Choked up by reading Leif Hetland's book...
One or two put their heads in His bosom.
In His bosom, they feel honored.
On His lap, they feel safe.
In His hands, they feel blessed.
In His eyes, they feel loved.
In His smile, they feel delighted in.
And there on His lap, with that squirmy brood of children--so young, so innocent, so trusting--Jesus shows us a picture of the Kingdom of God with its King on His throne. He places the least of these in the position of most honor, gathering them to His bosom and blessing them.
Jesus knew exactly how they felt, and He fought back a nostalgic treat for the bosom of His Father that He had left so many years ago when He climbed down from the lap so we could climb up onto His."
Then they brought little children to Him, that He might touch them; but the disciples rebuked those who brought them. But when Jesus saw it, He was greatly displease and said to them, "Let the little children come to Me, and do not forbid them; for of such is the kingdom of God. Assuredly, I say to you, whoever does not receive the kingdom of God as a little child will by no means enter it." And He took them up in His arms, laid His hands on them, and blessed them.
Before Jesus left this earth to return to the bosom of the Father. He cried out to the Father. The time was late at night; the place, the Garden of Gethsemane. Once there, Jesus walked a little way beyond where He had left Peter, James, and John, then fell to the ground and praying. The writer to the Hebrews describes the scene one of anguish, tears, and loud crying (Heb. 5:7). What Jesus cried out was "Abba! Father! All things are possible for You; remove this cup from Me yet not what I will, but what You will (Mark 14:36).
What exactly is going on in that Garden? Jesus is afraid. He is crying, loudly, and for a time, uncontrollably. Suddenly He is a little boy again, climbing onto His Papa's lap, trembling, reaching up, and desperately clinging to His neck. Asking Him--no, begging Him--for a reprieve. In essence He pleads, "Papa, please. The cup is too heavy; it's contents, too bitter. Do I have to take it? Must I drink it? Is there no other way?"
Though the answer is hard, the lap is soft, and the Father's arms bundle His Son against the chill of night--warming Him, assuring Him, calming Him. What began in tears, ended in trust. What began as a request, ended as a relinquishment. What began as a way out for the Son, ended as the way of salvation for the world.
All because of the Father's lap.
And because of the Son who sat there, wept there, surrendered there.
My prayer is that I can lean into the bosom of Jesus.
To lean into all of my brokenness and lean into the heart of this very Man, Jesus.
To come as the child He sees me as.
To sit upon the lap of Abba and be loved as I am, a child.
I hear the Lord saying... "Let the little children come to me and do not hinder them. For the Kingdom of Heaven belongs to these little ones."
One or two put their heads in His bosom.
In His bosom, they feel honored.
On His lap, they feel safe.
In His hands, they feel blessed.
In His eyes, they feel loved.
In His smile, they feel delighted in.
And there on His lap, with that squirmy brood of children--so young, so innocent, so trusting--Jesus shows us a picture of the Kingdom of God with its King on His throne. He places the least of these in the position of most honor, gathering them to His bosom and blessing them.
Jesus knew exactly how they felt, and He fought back a nostalgic treat for the bosom of His Father that He had left so many years ago when He climbed down from the lap so we could climb up onto His."
Then they brought little children to Him, that He might touch them; but the disciples rebuked those who brought them. But when Jesus saw it, He was greatly displease and said to them, "Let the little children come to Me, and do not forbid them; for of such is the kingdom of God. Assuredly, I say to you, whoever does not receive the kingdom of God as a little child will by no means enter it." And He took them up in His arms, laid His hands on them, and blessed them.
Before Jesus left this earth to return to the bosom of the Father. He cried out to the Father. The time was late at night; the place, the Garden of Gethsemane. Once there, Jesus walked a little way beyond where He had left Peter, James, and John, then fell to the ground and praying. The writer to the Hebrews describes the scene one of anguish, tears, and loud crying (Heb. 5:7). What Jesus cried out was "Abba! Father! All things are possible for You; remove this cup from Me yet not what I will, but what You will (Mark 14:36).
What exactly is going on in that Garden? Jesus is afraid. He is crying, loudly, and for a time, uncontrollably. Suddenly He is a little boy again, climbing onto His Papa's lap, trembling, reaching up, and desperately clinging to His neck. Asking Him--no, begging Him--for a reprieve. In essence He pleads, "Papa, please. The cup is too heavy; it's contents, too bitter. Do I have to take it? Must I drink it? Is there no other way?"
Though the answer is hard, the lap is soft, and the Father's arms bundle His Son against the chill of night--warming Him, assuring Him, calming Him. What began in tears, ended in trust. What began as a request, ended as a relinquishment. What began as a way out for the Son, ended as the way of salvation for the world.
All because of the Father's lap.
And because of the Son who sat there, wept there, surrendered there.
My prayer is that I can lean into the bosom of Jesus.
To lean into all of my brokenness and lean into the heart of this very Man, Jesus.
To come as the child He sees me as.
To sit upon the lap of Abba and be loved as I am, a child.
I hear the Lord saying... "Let the little children come to me and do not hinder them. For the Kingdom of Heaven belongs to these little ones."
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