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I had an abortion, and the guilt and shame almost killed me

by June Bai | 27 September 2017, 6:05 PM

I stared at the rows of bottles in the room Marina had ushered me into. I’d been awestruck by the sights in New Zealand over the past few weeks, but nothing could prepare me for this.

In the jars were hundreds, if not thousands, of buttons. In any other setting they would have been an impressive collector’s item, but I knew I stood before something a lot more sacred. Every button represented a baby lost to abortion, sent in by those who mourned to Marina Young, founder of the Buttons Project.

“Through my own abortion experience I came to realise many women feel the same – that it can be difficult to gain any sense of closure. There is no grave to visit, no tangible way of remembering,” Marina shared with me.

“That’s why I started the Buttons Project. To create a memorial for the babies we’ve never met.”

The familiar sadness I’d carried for years inside me stirred. Most of it had healed over and been replaced by a renewed sense of hope – but I would never forget the dark place I’d left behind. Just like Marina, I too had an abortion in my early 20s. I too had searched for peace, the unknown face of my unborn child etched in my heart like a scar.

It was the greatest irony; I had always wanted my own children as a young girl. But when the second pink line appeared on the pregnancy stick, indicating I was most likely with child, the only thing I could think of was to erase it immediately – like I’d written something wrong.

Although we’d been dating for some time, my boyfriend was not ready to get married and start a family. We hadn’t considered the possibility of pregnancy. I could see my father’s crestfallen face. I could imagine how my mother would have chastised me. I told you not to anyhow stay over at people’s house. They wouldn’t know about my ordeal until years later.

My boyfriend and I agreed that the only option was an abortion. To us, this wasn’t our baby. This was our problem. And problems needed to be solved. Back in school, I’d written impassioned pieces on how I was against abortion, but now abortion wasn’t the only problem. I had a problem. This was the solution.

Everything the pre-abortion counsellor told me flew over my head. Yes, I know the risks. No, I don’t want to reconsider this. Get this out of me so I can move on with my life.

And when it was all over, I walked out of the clinic clutching my bundle of relief. My old life was waiting for me. My relationship was waiting for me. No one would ever have to know.

Problem solved.

But that night, I struggled to sleep; it was more than the physical pain I was in. Somewhere, growing in me, was a new pain where my child had been.

The child I had killed.

Very much like its cousin shame, guilt is like a tumour. It appears insidiously in a place you cannot quite put a finger on but announces its presence like thunder – throbbing in your head or in your gut. I couldn’t tell if I was guilty of getting pregnant or terminating the pregnancy or not hesitating to terminate the pregnancy – but within the next few days of the abortion, I was a wreck.

What was happening to me? I’d never even met this child or thought of it as a life, as my own. I was supposed to be the same June as I’d always been, unpregnant, not-yet-a-mother. This episode was supposed to be a blip on the screen for my boyfriend and I. A small error reversed as quickly as possible. Control-Z. Undo.

So why did I feel like a part of me had died?

My boyfriend was very supportive at first; he was the only one who knew about this. He’d promised that we’d go back to normal once we’d crossed this hurdle, and I believed for a while that we were stronger together after the abortion.

But as the mounting guilt of killing my own baby sapped the colour from my life, the strain on our relationship soon reached its tipping point.

Six months after the abortion, we called it quits and broke up.

The time following the end of our relationship was what I can describe as my own private hell. Depression sunk its ugly teeth into me and along with that came nights of bitter tears. I had never felt so alone, having isolated myself from most of my social groups.

If the topic of abortion ever came up, the enormous tumour of guilt burned inside me. It was easier to avoid conversation altogether. I felt like the worst of sinners, crying out for comfort yet believing I was undeserving of any. I was grieving the loss of my child, but I was the one who killed him in cold blood.

For more than a year and a half, I cried myself to sleep every night.

It dawned on me gradually that the wound was too deep to heal with time, and I was going to need something stronger – or never stop hurting.

I saw all the other women who were spending the weekend together with me, and it hit me: Each of us had lost a child to abortion and was suffering for it.

I needed God.

It’d been a long time since I’d attended Church regularly. I had stopped all Church activity after the abortion, unable to bear the tension of my secret shame.

But now I was desperate. The dark tunnel I’d been walking in was only getting darker. So I asked a friend if I could follow her to Church. I was like the woman in Luke 8:43-48, grabbing onto the border of Jesus’ cloak, believing with all her heart that it was the only chance she had to be healed.

It didn’t happen all at once, but I look back now to see that this was precisely where healing began.

“If you want to walk into your destiny, you need to come to a point where you have nothing to hide, nothing to lose and nothing to prove,” the preacher said.

It had been several months since I’d started coming back to Church. I was in a much better place – surrounded by good people, reminded of God’s love for me, ready to believe there were brighter days ahead. And when I heard what the preacher said that morning, I realised I wanted so badly to walk into my God-given destiny, whatever that looked like.

Sure, I had nothing to lose and nothing to prove at this point. But I still had something to hide. Up till now, I had never spoken about the abortion to any of my Church friends. Honestly, I was hoping I’d never have to.

But now I knew I had to.

Taking our secret sins out of hiding is very much like coming before God with our confessions. I’m glad you told me, I imagine He’d say, though He’d have known it all along. Now let’s get you out of there.

And that’s just what happened when I finally told my cell group about the abortion. Instead of judgment or disgust, love came pouring forth. It was like a veil had lifted in my relationships. With my friends’ support, I found the courage to go for Rachel’s Vineyard, a weekend retreat for anyone affected by abortion.

The experience of group therapy was terrifying to step into. I remember wanting to run away the moment I entered the retreat centre. But then I saw all the other women who were spending the weekend together with me, and it hit me: Each of us had lost a child to abortion and was suffering for it.

During one of the group sessions, we were sitting in a circle for an activity. Suddenly the room faded, as though in a dream, and the talking around me dissolved into a faint murmur. Right in front of me stood a man I somehow recognised to be Jesus, and in his arms was a wiggling, happy boy whose face I could not see clearly.

I sat frozen in my seat, but Jesus walked towards me and placed the child on my lap. Immediately I knew he was the baby I had lost, and a peace I’d never felt before enveloped my heart.

All this while I had been struggling to believe my child was in Heaven; after what I’d done to him, how could he be in a happy place? He should have been bitter and angry at me for denying him life – his own mother! Where is my baby now? I’d cried for so long.

But as I held my son for the first time, I had my answer. With Jesus standing beside me, eyes full of love, I felt all the guilt and longing fall like chains.

I was finally free.

When I found my way to Marina Young’s house in Auckland, New Zealand, I knew God was up to something. I’d quit my job and come to the country as part of my healing journey, unsure of what lay in store. I had never heard of the Buttons Project previously, but when a pastor I met at a local church heard my story, he immediately referred me to Marina and her husband, Peter.

As a young unmarried couple, Marina and Peter got pregnant before they were ready to settle down. They took the advice of well-meaning friends and family and decided to abort the baby. Although they eventually married and had three children, they never stopped mourning the loss of their first child.

This compelled Marina to start the Buttons Project, to help others who grieve in silence find a place of solace and community. She started the website, which invited anyone affected by abortion to send in a button, either physically or digitally, to create a memorial for babies we’ve not met. To this day, the Youngs have received over 20,000 buttons.

With their blessings, I decided to bring the Buttons Project to Singapore earlier this year, in hopes of helping women and men affected by abortion in our nation take a step towards healing.

If you are on a similar journey, please know that you are not alone. What happened matters. It will always matter.

If abortion is part of your story, visit the Buttons Project Singapore website to send in a button of remembrance, or join their support group.


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I went from conference attendee to Africa missionary

by Regina Flueckiger | 16 April 2018, 12:56 PM

Six years ago, I watched a video which changed my life.

Attending the 2012 Kingdom Invasion Conference, the video I watched was about Heidi Baker’s IRIS ministry in Pemba, Mozambique. It stirred my heart and deposited a dream in me: I will be there someday!

Yet in the following years, this dream of mine would prove difficult to realise due to parental objections. And even after I was given consent to set sail, the entire process was tedious and challenging.

The first hurdle was financial difficulty. After counting all the costs, I estimated that I would need a total of $12,000. I was wondering how on earth I would get this amount since I was also taking no pay leave from work.

I prayed and committed it to the Lord. I was shy and had never fundraised before, so I asked God to send me people who would give me $1000 each without having to ask them to. I only told my mum about this, who was the first to offer me my first thousand (which I ultimately didn’t even need to take).

After a month, nothing happened. I began to ask the Lord if there was anything I needed to do to raise the money I needed. The Lord then gave me an idea to bake cakes and cookies – a skill I had learnt from my mum when I was in Switzerland.

A batch of cookies I made to raise funds for my mission trip.

The Lord blessed me greatly. After my fundraising – along with love offerings from all over – I received a total of $24,100!

I even received money when I was there in Africa. I asked the Lord, why did I receive so much extra money and what did He want me to do with it? He told me clearly that the money would be used to build a shelter in a village on a rubbish dump in Madagascar! So I quickly drew a sketch of how the shelter would look like.

When I got to Madagascar, I met with the chief of this village. As we talked about building a shelter, I realised he had a passion to get people into school. He used two small rooms in his house as a classroom for villagers who could not afford to go to school, where IRIS hired a teacher for them. The rooms were tiny: One had no tables and chairs, while the other had tables and chairs that were all broken.

They may not have many possessions, but they are rich in joy and full of the Holy Spirit.

That was when we realised we could build a multi-purpose building: A school for the mornings, and a shelter for the afternoons! Today, the villagers have named the building “Sekoly Fanantenana,” which means “Hope School” in Malagasy. It certainly stands as a testimony of hope to them!

When I think about how this building is located at a rubbish dump, I am delighted because I know that Father God’s heart is to establish His kingdom among the least of these (Matthew 25:40).

The school I built with the money raised from the baking sale.

As I spent time in Mozambique, learning from Rolland and Heidi Baker (as well as many missionaries who serve in South Sudan and war zones in the Congo), I began to see what it was like for Christians who lay down their lives.

They may not have many possessions, but they are rich in joy and full of the Holy Spirit. They are used to having knives and guns pointed at them. They have seen the police and army seize all their possessions. Each day, they risk their lives for the gospel.

One day, while we were on the IRIS base – there was a shooting. Heidi had told all of us that if there ever was a shooting, we were to run for our lives. But she would walk straight into it because it is her ministry.

After the chaos, when the shooters were caught, Heidi went to the jail to speak to them. And she saw the shooter’s gun lying on the table in halves! Apparently, after firing a few shots, it broke in two. And she knew that God did that. What radical faith and dependency on Christ!

But I wasn’t quite like Heidi Baker a lot of the time. Occasionally, I would struggle to trust God with my life – even when it wasn’t being threatened. Due to the bacteria and insects in Pemba, I had to take antibiotics and receive many injections for three out of five weeks. I already had six injections before I went to Africa, and I couldn’t believe that I would take six more when I got there!

In my final week in Pemba, Mozambique, I experienced my worst injury. A spider bite had caused my leg to swell until it was double its size! It was so painful. At one point, I could not walk – I had to be carried to my room. The doctors wanted me to go to the hospital to get it drained, and asked me to reconsider heading back to Madagascar.

I was very down but I surrendered the situation to the Lord. The very next day I was healed supernaturally! Through this time, God was also teaching me how to minister even when I was uncomfortable or unwell.

Meeting people who lay down their lives for the gospel and seeing the joy they carry – I came to realise that trusting God with my whole life and giving my all to him is the only way. God was so real to me in Africa – I wish people could experience that reality in Singapore too. To that end, maybe it’s not so bad to have things stripped away from a cluttered life!

Missions fire up my spirit like nothing else even though it can be very challenging in all aspects. It demands the surrendering of your life – even life itself.

I remember when I was 17, hand scrubbing clothes on a washboard in a mission trip and thinking to myself: There’s nothing else I’d rather do in this world than missions. I’ve been on many mission trips locally and globally since then – and I’ve never looked back.

When you’re pushed out of your comfort zone, it increases your need to trust in God. It increases your need to exercise supernatural faith – to be prepared for anything and everything. Yes, it can be scary to give everything up for people in developing nations, but I believe God has blessed us richly to bless others.

We are so blessed to live in Singapore. The challenge and onus is on us to carry God’s heart for the less fortunate – one that is always desperately hungry for Him and set on serving His people.

May this generation send out the greatest number of missionaries across the world!


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Our purpose is His pleasure

by | 12 April 2018, 11:27 AM

Do you regret something bad that you did or said recently? What would even make your list of “bad things?”

I don’t suppose our lists look the same – everyone holds themselves to different standards. There are obvious things like murder and adultery that we know are definitely wrong, but what about the convictions we must decide on for ourselves? 

  • Will I use vulgarities?
  • What’s my view on sex before marriage?
  • What kind of spouse will I be?
  • What’s my most important goal in life?

But we don’t really talk about such things anymore. In a world where anything goes, many of us aren’t absolutely sure about a lot of things or our decisions.

So we just go with the flow, we just let it be – not realising how dangerous that sort of spontaneity can be. But it costs to be careless about the way we handle our self, relationships, and money. And the most important, most costly decision we’ll make is in how we relate with God.

Our view of who God is and who we are to Him must dictate all of life’s decisions. The most important thing we can do for ourselves is to align our life and will to His (Romans 12:2).

  • If you’ve ever asked who the “real you” is – your Creator God has the answer (Psalm 139)
  • If you feel like you just don’t know what to do anymore – your Creator God has the answer (Psalm 86:11)
  • If you don’t know how to surrender your life to God – your Creator God has the answer (Matt 16:24-25)

When our desire is to be right with God, we are freed to know and follow Him. 

“So we make it our goal to please him… For we must all appear before the judgment seat of Christ, so that each of us may receive what is due us for the things done while in the body, whether good or bad.” (2 Corinthians 5:9-10)

Do you know what we’re born for? So many spend their lives chasing the wind. We make it our whole life’s goal to bring God pleasure.

Pleasing God is not the same as pleasing a superior at work, or blind subservience to a narcissistic control-freak. It is a winning strategy in the war against a real enemy who schemes against us.

Pleasing God delivers clarity to the decisions we make. The more we know and spend time with God and His Word, we more we will find out what pleases Him. After all, when we draw near to God, He will draw near to us (James 4:8).

Are you pleasing Him? It was said to the believers in Rome that those “in the flesh cannot please God” (Romans 8:8). The goal of pleasing God brings to light our sinful selves and all the ways we are naturally at odds with Him.

When our Lord and Master Jesus Christ said ‘Repent,’ he intended that the entire life of believers should be repentance.” (Martin Luther)

When was the last time we repented of doing something that wouldn’t please God? A life of repentance sounds like a hard and tedious one. But it’s a blessed life: Repentance takes the burden of sin off us (1 John 1:9) – a gift of grace that we might live free.

The things that please God are worth contending for. We can either gratify the desires of our flesh and live in careless disregard of who God is – or live in His forgiveness and love as pleasing sacrifices.

“To the person who pleases him, God gives wisdom, knowledge and happiness…” (Ecclesiastes 2:26a)

God desires to lavish wisdom, knowledge, peace, love, joy, and every other good thing upon us. As our Father, He does not want to withhold any good thing from us. If we align our will with His and desire to please God, our choices will reap rewards for our eternal souls.

We are accountable for every choices we make. At the end, we have to give an answer for the kind of life we lived and all the things we did.

Thank God for His mercy – that He would help us today by guiding us (John 16:13).


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Why am I always tired in ministry?

by | 10 April 2018, 3:21 PM

I’ve been thinking about this question for quite some time now.

There are the occasional gaps of time that allow for some breathing room, but I inevitably feel spent. A couple of days ago, I was sitting in the office with a fellow burnt-out colleague in the ministry, and I asked her: “Is this how it’s supposed to feel like?”

“Nope, definitely not.” And after I mulled on her answer, I was inclined to agree — purpose can only carry you so far without joy.

So what was my problem?

Because I often feel like I’m doing all the right things.

I attend church and cell group, lead cell and serve in other ministries. I have mentors and pastors I can pour my heart out to, I’m spiritually fed through BSF, I’m well-adjusted and have good support systems …

By right, I should be able to function. Yet after a long day of writing or editing articles, when I have to sit down and write something for one of my other ministries — it’s like the well has run completely dry.

Honestly, a lot of the time, I’m tempted to feel guilty.

I want my life to be poured out for God and for others, but I feel like a dry towel being squeezed for water. So, like a good Christian, I pray to God to fill me up — fill me till I’m overflowing!

Sounds good, right? But after a long time, there’s still no change.

Then how?

“Don’t forget to top-up your tank,” is a common mantra dished out to the depleted.

And sure, without being sarcastic, it’s true. I do believe we must abide in the vine.

But when I look at my colleague, who is also a good Christian doing good Christian things, and see just how burnt out she is — I wonder where we’ve gone wrong.

God, help me to see if this is an issue of workload or something more.

Because there’s that tension in ministry between dreaming big for God — dreaming something so “kingdom-sized” it’s doomed to fail without His help — and simply biting off more than you can chew.

Lord, let me do just what You want — not what I think would be good to do. And serving where God does want me to serve, I need to pray for God to increase my capacity — for my hands to keep up with my heart.

I need God to keep me honest: Simply doing all the right stuff doesn’t equate to a life of right living.

I have to be really careful as I write this next part — I’m not trying to give you a free pass to quit your ministry.

Serving isn’t supposed to be “easy.” There are somewhat less demanding ministries, as there are very demanding ones — but all require constant fuelling from God and a measure of sacrifice.

To be very clear, the heart behind my words is simply to have you consider the nature and spirit of your service.

Where I worship, my church has a policy where every leader “steps down” at the end of the year. They then reconsider their ministry commitments for the coming year, and if they are convicted to serve again, they rededicate themselves at a special service in January.

Here’s the thing: I don’t think I did that last year …

It didn’t help that my leaders didn’t actually ask me to. To be fair, in ministries where labourers are in short supply, I can see why that question might seem unproductive — even self-destructive —to ask.

Continuing to serve just seemed like a matter-of-fact to me. These ministries I was involved in were good things! So, must be good, right?

If I could turn back time, I would have properly asked God what He thought of my involvements. I’ll serve as best as I can, to the ministries I’ve already committed myself to — but there’s definitely a lesson here for me.

A final aside: Have you ever wondered why you keep seeing the same faces in ministry? 

There might be a lack of volunteers, or perhaps so-and-so is called to the position for a long season. But I wonder if more people in our church don’t rise up because we’ve overstayed in our ministries.

Are they too comfortable? Or are we too comfortable? As the next generation steps up to take the reins, we must check if we are too proud to let go of the things we’ve had the privilege of being stewards for.

No one is indispensable, and it takes humility to walk away.

God, only let me serve where You have called me to!


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Missions under 30: I’m a millennial and I’m not bored

by Claire Carter | 9 April 2018, 4:01 PM

I wonder how many people think that millennials are bored in church? Or unwilling to go on mission trips?

Think of us as spoilt or fragile, but don’t write us off just yet. I’m a millennial and I want to live for something bigger than myself – and I know I’m not alone in thinking this way.

Having grown up in the age of information and at a time such as this, where we’re constantly exposed to human brokenness and injustice, my generation actually holds more potential for sending out missionaries than ever before. 

As a millennial who has been going for mission trips since young and even organised them, perhaps I could share some perspectives on what millennials really want.

Once we are baptised in compassion and a love for the lost and the broken, it will start a fire that’s not easily quenched.

Firstly, I think we want to find our unique role in God’s redemptive mission. I believe we each have individual strengths, convictions, interests … And even our nationalities are uniquely designed for us to play a specific part of God’s building plan.

I think this predisposes us to seek out opportunities that are unique to us, in whatever areas we are placed in or feel in our hearts most strongly.

But the key is that we must have tasted and seen the goodness of God. We must find that He’s worth living for, and once we are baptised in compassion and a love for the lost and the broken, I think that will start a fire that’s not easily quenched.

If you find yourself in a capacity to influence and mould millennials, challenge them to a life sold out for Jesus. Help them rise up to that standard and see what that life looks like for themselves.

I know a friend who’s previously organised two mission trips to a village in Taiwan, where her grandmother is from. It is a village that has no churches and no Christians in the community. She sensed the urgency of the need and has led two separate teams to bring the Gospel to the children there.

You see, my friend has a unique ability to fulfil this specific call because of her ties to the land. As a member of the community, she’s accepted by them. Also, the circumstances she grew up in were pretty similar to the children, so they could identify with her story when she shared her testimony with them.

Maybe millennials do feel bored with pre-planned programmes that have been set up by churches or missions organisations, but it doesn’t mean that millennials are not mission-ready.

I think the Church would do well to encourage millennials to dig deeper and observe where God is placing us specifically and then provide the know-how and the guidance as we embark on these more unconventional forms of missions.

We want to take ownership of the Great Commission, too.

At my church, we have a global awareness team that sets up platforms to create awareness about stories from the ground to reflect what young people are doing to answer God’s call in our mission fields. These stories help us remember that we aren’t all that different and we can begin to do something where we’re at.

Whether it’s an overseas internship, an exchange or a gap year – we’ve heard stories about young people who have gone out to the nations to do something for God while still studying. People come back sharing these stories of how God has used them wherever they are.

Our platform of global awareness encourages young people not to see missions as a separate, compartmentalised part of their lives, but to see it as a lifestyle. And we can live out the Great Commission by using opportunities that are present within programmes we have in school, such as summer schools and overseas internship programmes.

Missions is exciting because God is exciting.

We want to mobilise this generation and the next because we have so many opportunities in front of us and it’s paramount that we see and remember God’s heart in all of these.

The antidote to short-lived excitement is to get us millennials closely acquainted with the person of God – the exciting character of God and His heart for His people. We must keep that fire burning.

If we make missions about a programme – we will come back from it seeing the power of the programme instead of the power of God. But missions is exciting because God is exciting. It is when we begin to feel and take on God’s heart for His people that we begin participating in something bigger than ourselves.

The greatest thing that you can do in life is be a part of God’s exciting mission to reconcile the world back to Him. And that’s the least boring thing in the world.

Only 21 years old, Claire Carter was the youngest panelist at the first GoForth Millennial Influencers Gathering, where she shared these thoughts on missions.

With an expected one billion people in Asia moving from rural to urban areas by the year 2030, the number of world city dwellers is expected to rise to 70% by 2050. There is an urgent call to the Church, especially as the majority of new urban dwellers will be young (under 25 years old) and live below the poverty line ($2 a day).

The GoForth National Missions Conference, happening June 21-23, 2018, will look at an array of diverse strategies to empower individuals and churches to reach and transform cities with the love of Christ. Visit their website to find out out more.


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Why would a Father do that to His Son?

by Joey Lam | 27 March 2018, 3:00 AM

What hinders the next generation from heading out into the mission field?

That’s the one question that’s been on my mind for several months now. And from the many conversations I had, as well as a quick survey we made at P4M – “parents” emerged as the strongest factor.

I want to tread carefully: This thought piece isn’t about pinning blame on parents. Instead, I want you to see the Father’s heart for us.

“For God so loved the world that He gave His one and only Son.” (John 3:16)

We all know the verse and phrase very well – He gave His one and only son. But do you truly know what it means? That God the Father sent His one and only Son?

It’s not just God sending Jesus – it’s a father sending his only child.

His only child.

For God so loved the world. This was the world He created – one which severed its ties with its Creator and was spiralling into hopelessness. Yet in His great love, He sent His only son to redeem what only He could redeem and restore.

He did not send grudgingly. He did not send reluctantly. He sent lovingly.

I felt God say to me, “Did you know both the Father and the Son knew He would be crucified?” Jesus came knowing He was going to die. The Father knew – but still sent.

I definitely understand that parents are concerned about their children’s safety.

Objectively speaking, there is no certainty that the “children” we send out won’t die in the course of their mission trip.

I am not downplaying that here. Nobody wants to see their loved ones face danger or death. But as a sending agency, it is definitely not on our hearts to send recklessly – disregarding risk and danger.

Objectively speaking, there is no certainty that the “children” we send out won’t die in the course of their mission trip. But God sent Jesus despite knowing death awaited His only son. And Jesus came, knowing He would be led as a lamb to the slaughter.

And then the Holy Spirit brought a verse to mind: ‘The Lord was pleased to crush him” (Isaiah 53:10).

How could a father be pleased to crush his own son for sins and transgressions his son never committed? That’s insane and ridiculous!

But it “pleased” the Father to crush His Son for the sins of this world because of just how much He hates sin.

For all the brokenness and bloodshed in this world – slavery, child soldiers, divorce, addiction and so on – it only makes sense that He thoroughly hates what sin has done to His creation. It makes sense that He is pleased to crush sin.

But to crush His one and only Son for the sins of the world? Maybe God the Father didn’t really love His Son Jesus – maybe that’s why it wasn’t that hard to crush Him?

  • This is My beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased (Matthew 3:17)
  • And a voice came from heaven, saying, “You are My beloved Son in whom I am well pleased.’’ (Mark 1:11)
  • And the Holy Spirit descended in a bodily form like a dove on Him, and a voice came from heaven which said, “You are My beloved Son. In You I am well pleased.’’ (Luke 3:22)

Three of the 4 Gospel accounts tell us that Jesus is God’s beloved Son in whom He is well pleased. And yet it pleased the Father to crush His beloved Son for us.

Because of Jesus’s sacrifice and resurrection, we are cleansed and sanctified – adopted into God’s family.

We are God’s children today because He was pleased to crush Christ – on whom all the sins of the world had been placed – for us. Where else would you find such radical love?

I will never fully know His love for a hopeless world. And I can’t help but worship Him.

Writing this piece, I’ve come to realise that we as the body of Christ may have misrepresented God’s heart behind John 3:16.

John 3:17 (which no one talks about) makes it plain for us: “For God did not send His son into the world to condemn the world, but to save the world through him.”

If we are not careful, we may present the good news as an eternal death threat.

Certainly the focus shouldn’t be on the consequence, it should be on God’s heart. God’s heart is one of reconciliation, redemption and restoration. John 3:16 is an invitation to live in His radical love.

To me, the word perish doesn’t merely mean death. It’s the pain we feel, and the hopelessness. It is being away from Him – the source of life. Eternal life is not just a ticket into heaven. It’s being adopted into sonship: Loving God and restoring our relationship with Him, enjoying His impossible love in an abundant life.

He invites us to live with Him in eternity. It pleased God to crush Jesus for us, who gladly sent His one and only Son, so that we can come home to Him again.

Would you do the same?


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