As the Christmas season comes to an end, I’m reminded of a song that is sometimes played on the radio. “How Many Kings” is a song that I love–it truly makes me think.
In the chorus it says: “How many kings stepped down from their thrones? How many lords have abandoned their homes? How many greats have become the least for me? And how many gods have poured out their hearts to romance a world that is torn all apart? How many fathers gave up their sons for me?”
I think the key part of that chorus is the “for me” part. Just think about it for a moment. God died. “Yeah, yeah, I know,” you think. “He died to save us.” But honestly, pause for a bit. The God who created the world, who made everything–including you–died. Dead. It’s hopeless, right? But not only that, but he died to save us from hell. He died to save you. Even though you weren’t born, even though your great-great-great-great grandparents weren’t born yet, he knew you and saved you. He stepped down from his throne to walk with you. He abandoned his home to walk with you. He put all of his glory and honor and royalty and greatness beside him to lift you up. Yep, he loved this messed-up world and all the messed-up people in it, including you. He even said to you, “Look, I love you so much that I’m willing to give up my own son to die so that you may live.” God gave up his son for you. How many fathers gave up their sons for me?
One. Only one.