My Life is Now Forever Yours

A little blonde girl stood perfectly still in a beautiful white dress, tears streaming down her soft pink cheeks, falling gently into a basket filled with petals. She quietly watched as a man made lifelong vows to her mother. Vows that would forever change the course of her own little life.

These words that poured from his lips would mean the end of her fatherless existence. It would be the end of the “about me” posters at school with pictures telling her story of having only one parent while everyone else had two. It would be the end of Father’s day projects where she would have to tell her teacher that she didn’t have a father, or that only God was her father.

Every tear that wet the petals below was an indication that she understood this fact. During the wedding reception, as the bride danced with her own father; the tiny girl was whisked off of her feet too. Her new father held her tight in his arms as he swayed with her around the dance floor. She rested her head on his shoulder; blonde curls rolling down his back. As he turned with the music, I noticed her right hand. Around one of her tiny fingers was a ring, a reminder of his promise — his vow — his word — every time she looked down at her hand, she would hear it in her ears again — “my life is now forever yours”.

I stood by snapping photos of all of these moments, while tears ran down my own cheeks behind my camera. I reflected upon my own life, how I had been a little girl once, but no promise from an earthly father was ever made. My tears of sorrow over a broken world in which girls are left fatherless, mingled with tears of joy that life would be different for this little girl. I was an eyewitness to the event of her redemption from what was broken and lost. I tried my best to keep my composure as I watched her, eyes fixed on him as the time came to make an official exit with his new bride. I could feel her intensity building as she watched him leave, until she finally bolted after him screaming, “daddy!” He immediately turned and dropped to his knees embracing her again. I listened as he promised that he would see her tomorrow and reminded her that they would be leaving together, on a cruise, to celebrate life as a new family soon. She wiped away her tears and smiled. Having just fulfilled his first promise, this new promise was a great deal of comfort to her.

I couldn’t help but think about the gospel; about Christ and our justification. Much like this little girl on her mother’s wedding day, clutching her tiny basket with nothing to offer in exchange for the vow, we too stand as recipients. We look on, with only our sin, which makes this event necessary, as our lives are hidden in someone else’s through a promise — a vow — a word. The Word. The Word became flesh and dwelt among us. Here’s where the imagery of the wedding morphs into a different kind of event because the event of justification is not just a wedding, it’s also a funeral.

For Christ also suffered once for sins, the righteous for the unrighteous, that he might bring us to God, being put to death in the flesh but made alive in the spirit 1 pet 3:18

Christ is the Word of the promise, we are saved through the Word becoming flesh — that flesh becoming sin on our behalf — that flesh hanging from a cross — that flesh giving up His spirit — that flesh lying in a tomb for three days and decomposing — and that flesh being resurrected from death by the power of God. The promise given to us is Christ’s life, death, and resurrection.

For our life to be hidden in Christ’s, it will mean death for us as well. Gerhard Forde says it this way, “The cross insists on being its own story. It does not allow us to stand by and watch. It does not ask us to probe endlessly for a meaning behind or above everything that would finally awaken, enlighten and attract the exiled, slumbering soul. The cross draws us into itself so that we become participants in the story.”

The cross doesn’t just give us a story to identify with, it actually becomes our very own story. We are buried with Christ and raised with him to newness of life — this is the event of our justification. Christ is now our story: “We have been crucified with Christ; it is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me; and the life I now live in the flesh I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me.” (Gal 2:20)

It {salvation} is an utterly new creation into which we are brought by our death in Jesus’ death and our resurrection in his. – Robert Farrar Capon (Kingdom, Grace, and Judgment)

We are no longer fatherless. Because of God’s great love, we’ve been adopted as sons through Christ. Our lives are forever hidden in his and while we wait for his return we sometimes struggle to remember this good news. We look at the world around us and things begin to feel shaky, unsteady, and bleak. Faith in our heavenly Father waivers and we find ourselves afraid — we remember the invitation to come boldly before his throneroom of grace; we cave under the weight of surmounting anxiety and finally cry out, “daddy!”. We run as fast as our legs can carry us and find that he is eager to embrace us, without hesitation. The Spirit whispers reminders of the cross, reassuring us that we are safe, held forever reconciled. “My life is now forever yours”.

Christ ascended to the right hand of the Father but he made another promise, “I am coming soon.” (Rev 22:20) Having kept his first promise by his death and resurrection, this second promise becomes a great deal of comfort for us — future hope. He’s made a promise to return and gather us so that we may be with him. In that moment our faith will become sight. We too will be whisked up, like that little girl, into a divine celebration, a party, a dance. We’ll be forever safe in the arms of our loving heavenly Father.

Christ was sacrificed once to take away the sins of many people; and he will appear a second time, not to bear sin, but to bring salvation to those who are waiting for him. Heb 9:28