One Sunday morning a pastor introduced his childhood friend and asked him to share a brief word of encouragement. With that, an elderly man stepped up to the pulpit to speak.
"A father, his son, and a friend of his son were sailing off the Pacific Coast when a fast approaching storm blocked any attempt to get back to shore. The waves were so high that, even though the father was an experienced sailor, he could not keep the boat upright, and the three were swept into the ocean."
"The father did manage to grab a rescue line from the capsized boat, and had to make the most excruciating decision of his life—to which boy he would throw the other end of the line. He only had seconds to decide. The father knew his son was a Christian, and he also knew that his son's friend was not. He threw the line to his son's friend. By the time he pulled the friend back to the capsized boat, his son had disappeared beyond the raging swells into the black of night. His body was never recovered."
"The father," he continued, "in a sense sacrificed his son. How great is the love of God that He should do the same for us."
Within minutes after the service ended, two teenagers were at the old man's side.
"That was a nice story," politely started one of the boys, "but I don't think it was very realistic for a father to give up his son's life in hopes that the other boy would become a Christian."
"Well, you've got a point there," the old man replied, glancing down at his Bible. A big smile broadened his narrow face, and he once again looked up at the boys and said,
"It sure isn't very realistic, is it? But I'm standing here today to tell you that THAT story gives me a glimpse of what it must have been like for God to give up His Son for me. You see... I was the son's friend."
The word, or even concept, of sacrifice occurs not only in the New Testament, but in the Torah The word—and even the concept—of sacrifice occurs not only in the New Testament but in the Torah as well. At its core, the Hebrew word for sacrifice (zevach) means “to draw near by giving up something precious.” In the Old Testament, the sacrificial animals (something precious) were offered so worshippers could draw near to God.
Those innocent animals were like giant arrows pointing toward Christ—without Him, the entire system of sacrifices makes zero sense. But with the Christian’s confession, “Christ, our Passover, has been sacrificed for us,” the institution itself blends together perfectly.
In the New Testament (written in the Greek), the essence of the word thysia—translated “sacrifice”—implies voluntary surrender for the sake of devotion. Animals had no choice in giving or keeping their lives, Jesus did.
Shouldn’t we all be grateful our Savior didn’t end His prayer in Gethsemane with the words, “Father, if it is possible, let this cup pass from Me. Amen.” Instead, He finished with, “Yet not as I will, but as You will.”
Love may have many fitting definitions, but none is more spectacular than this:
So was it God who offered Jesus up, or did Jesus offer Himself up? Both.
During World War II, it was customary in the United States for families with a son serving in the military to place a star in the front window of their home. A gold star indicated that the son had died in service to his country.
Years ago, Sir Harry Lauder told a touching story about this custom. One night, a man was walking down a New York City street with his five-year-old son. The little boy was fascinated by the brightly lit windows and wanted to know why some had stars displayed. The father explained that those families had a son fighting in the war.
Each time the boy saw another star, he clapped his hands and cried out, “Look, Daddy—there’s another family who gave a son for their country!”
At last, they came to an empty lot—a break in the row of houses. Through the opening, a single bright star shone in the night sky. The little boy caught his breath and exclaimed, “Oh, Daddy, look! The star in the window of heaven! God must have given His Son too.”