A Glorious Death

I originally wrote this last year for my friend K.C. Proctor over at Some Wise Guy, but decided to repost it here because IT’S FALL, Y’ALL! And also because I’m too lazy to come up with something new and because it’s mine anyway, so back off just kidding I love you you look extra pretty today.

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IT’S FALL, Y’ALL.

And I absolutely LOVE this time of year. This is the time of year when my favorite colors are, like, so IN right now. It’s when Starbucks brings back their pumpkin syrup to goop into my Chai lattes. It’s when I am no longer the only crazy person wearing my Mr. Rogers cardigan when it’s 100 degrees outside because the grocery store is FUH-REEZING.

And it’s when the rolling mountains in my backyard gradually change from a vibrant green to a magnificent array of reds and oranges and golds.

It is a time that those more poetic than me will call a glorious death.

Photo Credit: http://www.nps.gov

And it is. In their final moment before falling and withering away, the leaves take their last and majestic stand, the mountains aflame with their glory. The beauty is breathtaking.

And it reminds me of another Glorious Death. You probably already know where I’m going with this.

The death of a rebel rouser. A radical. A bold and brilliant Teacher.

This Man, this Jesus, punched holes into age-old thinking, changed the distant relationship between God and man, redefined the character of His Father as one Who is present and interested and accessible. He challenged the great thinkers, turned their wisdom on its head, elevated the very least of society.

How dare He.

He could not be allowed to go on. He could not go unpunished. He would be made an example, His followers had to be crushed and scattered, His message all but forgotten, their way of life restored.

They needed it to be a spectacle. A warning. A triumph.

His death.

His glorious death.

They thought they won, that it would all blow over, that It Was Finished.

But it was not the triumph they had counted on. It was not the warning they intended to spread. It was not the spectacle they expected.

A greater plan for winning souls.

A message that spread like wildfire.

A moment that would shatter history, rewrite our story. Your story, and mine.

His death – in all its glory – was not the final word.

His life, an example, His death, a necessity, His resurrection?

A Victory.

Happy Fall, Y’all. And do you love pumpkin chai lattes as much as I do?