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 Chosen by Jehovah
By DeAnna Brooks
The bleeding began on a day now ancient...in a Garden...long lost. Two lives, beloved, having known perfection intimately, themselves flawlessly created in its image, now stood together, stripped of all pretense of righteousness. In their naked shame, eyes that could once look on Holiness without fear, now cast their gaze downward before the glory of Love’s Devotion. It was not a nakedness of body birthing this eternal alteration. It was a nakedness of soul that drove their attempt to cover themselves. But every effort at their disposal, every conceivable plan their minds could envision, proved futile at covering so utter a nakedness. And now, having once dwelt united with Holiness, in abject hopelessness they fearfully awaited His verdict.
Love’s Holy hand moved...expertly...and two lives cringed, first in horror and despair, and then in flickering hope, as the earth drank its first taste of Redemption’s bloody wine. As the stain of innocent’s offering spread on the ground before them, stretching in a crimson pool, ever closer, until it pierced their souls, and they began knowing the touch of Forgiveness’ first garment, neither recipient of Grace’s covering felt Love’s heart quake. Nor were they aware of Heaven’s Son, looking down on this first blood-letting, knowing its Promise for Him.
From that moment, throughout the beloved’s story, during seasons of faithfulness, seasons of betrayal, seasons of disobedience, seasons of recommitment, Holy Grace flowed faithfully beside His chosen love. During those blissful seasons of communion, righteousness shone forth. But always there stood a shadow between the promise and the hope yet realized. The call to righteousness…to holiness…brought the need for many more coverings. And heart-to-heart the Father and the Son looked on...knowing...knowing and feeling...all that yet awaited.
Then, in a lonely desert wasteland, Mount Moriah, Chosen by Jehovah, called. And two beckoned fathers stood beside two sons. The anguish of the first felt in fullest measure by the Second. A lifetime’s sojourn had reaped a harvest of undaunted faith in the aged patriarch, but it could not erase or ease the pain this moment held. Each agonizing step drew him closer and closer to a parting that would cleave his soul. But God’s friend proved faithful. And a bound son looked in the agonized, yet hopeful, eyes of his father, and understood. A blade rose, poised at the peak of obedience, reflecting heaven’s righteous light. With that reflection, a Voice declared its reprieve, revealing a sacrificial ram caught in a thicket.
As earth-bound father and son clung to each other, rejoicing in Love’s provision, a Father and Son looked on, joined in the bittersweet promise of Their heart-wrenching pain yet to come. Mount Moriah would call again. This time there would be no reprieve. This time Redemption’s bloody wine would flow...unstopped...one final time...from a Son’s body fully broken...broken in obedience...obedience to a nail-scarred cross. Heaven would weep. And the tears from a Father’s broken heart, mingled with a Son’s willing sacrifice, at last wove a costly garment of forgiveness...a garment that would endure.
DeAnna Brooks makes her home in Fredericksburg, Texas. She enjoys taking scripture and discovering its unique heartbeat for her own life. It has been a fifty-one year sojourn that DeAnna says gets fresher with each passing day. You may contact DeAnna via the Letters page of this magazine.
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