"Do this in remembrance of Me"
Luke 22:19
As a first-generation Canadian of Dutch ancestry, Remembrance Day is always of special significance to me. It is a reality that, were it not for the part that brave Canadian soldiers played in Holland during World War II, I very likely would not be here, writing this blog.
My father was a young boy during WWII, the oldest of (eventually) 7 children. At one point they lived in Arnhem, and late in the war, were awakened in the middle of the night by Allied soldiers who herded them down to the bank of the Arnhem river where Canadian soldiers had erected rope bridges across, in order to evacuate civilians prior to a major offensive. My father's family crossed the river and travelled to relatives in the country, where they stayed until the fighting was over. And on May 5, 1945, Holland was finally freed from Nazi occupation. To express their deep gratitude, Holland sends gifts of thousands of tulips to the Canadian government to this day.
I am a husband and a father. It staggers me to think that countless young men, many husbands and fathers themselves, volunteered to go and fight, and quite possibly die, to achieve freedom for those who might never even know their names. I am humbled at the selflessness, the sacrifice made on my behalf, that I might enjoy the freedom that I do today. And I choose to honour that sacrifice; I don't believe they paid with their blood and their lives to buy me a freedom to do anything I want, although that is a possibility. No, I choose to honour that sacrifice by doing what is good and right, seeking what is true, striving (in weakness and imperfection) to use my freedom to serve others, in the same spirit that these incredibly courageous men and women served, and still serve, others. To stand against injustice and oppression against the poor, the helpless, the needy, the down-trodden.
And I remember, with thankful heart.
Another fierce battle was fought, nearly 2000 years ago. A Man left behind everything he enjoyed because men and women that he loved deeply were enslaved by a cruel and oppressive tyrant. He wasn't about to leave them in that situation. He demonstrated through his life that he was exactly who he said he was: God, and "God is love" (I John 4:8). He loved the poor, the helpless, the needy, the down-trodden. He defended the orphans and the widows, the outcast of society, and showed them love. He stood up to the religious leaders, who did not love his people but burdened them instead.
He was finally arrested, unfairly tried, found innocent but unjustly condemned and sentenced to death on a cross, the most horrific and shameful of all executions. He gave his blood and his life on that cross. His name is Jesus.
Doesn't sound like much of a battle, does it? But the battle was a spiritual one, we are those enslaved by sin and Satan, and the payment for our freedom, for our redemption from slavery, was blood, his blood. When he hung on that cross, he stood before the Ultimate Judge, God, and paid the penalty we owed, with his own lifeblood, so that we might have the opportunity to go free. To prove that he was the only qualified candidate and that the payment was accepted, he rose from the grave three days later.
He bought my freedom. I don't believe he paid with his blood and his life to buy me a freedom to do anything I want, although that is a possibility. I could squander my freedom by being self-serving. No, instead I choose to honour that sacrifice by doing what is good and right, seeking what is true, striving (in weakness and imperfection) to use my freedom to serve others, in the same spirit that my Saviour loved and served others. To stand against injustice and oppression against the poor, the helpless, the needy, the down-trodden. To share with them the news of the freedom that can only be found in Jesus Christ, freedom from the power of sin, freedom from the penalty of sin and, someday, even freedom from the presence of sin.
To those who have chosen to follow this brave and courageous and selfless Warrior, his command is that we gather to remember him in his death. We call it communion. Will you? Will you honour and remember him in the breaking of bread and drinking the cup? Will you remember that his body was broken for you, his blood was shed for you? He paid the ultimate price, a price I was incapable of ever paying, so that I might be free to have a relationship with him, to love him, to worship him, to honour him, because he is worthy.
And I remember, with thankful heart.
