Christ never took anything more seriously than the cup of redemption He faced that last Passover supper. His body would soon be broken so that the Bread of life could be distributed to all who would sit at His table. The wine of His blood would be poured into the new wineskins of all who would partake. It was time’s perfect night—a night when the last few stitches of a centuries-old Passover thread would be woven onto the canvas of earth in the shape of a cross. Sit and reflect. - BETH MOORE
O perfect Lamb of Passover,
Let me not quickly run.
Recount to me the blessed plot,
Tell how the plan was spun
That I, a slave of Egypt’s lusts,
A prisoner of dark dread,
Could be condemned unto a cross
And find You nailed instead.
No comments:
Post a Comment