Out of the Carpentry Shop
It’s Friday. The Friday of them all. And his last steps from the Carpentry Shop would lead him here. To This day. His last day as a man.
The title - “Out of the Carpentry Shop” actually comes from a book I ended up with somehow many years ago called - God Came Near by Max Lucado. If you know anything about Max, he is an amazing author.
Anyways, I ended up with this book and loved it. There are a few very profound stories in the book - one being “Out of the Carpentry Shop”.
This story was so powerful to me that all the years that I taught third grade at Norfolk Christian, I read this story to the kids. It simply puts the entire Easter story into a simple, yet powerful perspective.
Jesus was King. He could have saved himself, which the Roman solider says to him at the foot of the cross. Yes! He could have done that. But, he simply could not. He simply couldn’t.
Perhaps the story tells it best.
Out of the Carpentry Shop - by Max Lucado
The heavy door creaked on its hinges as He pushed it open. With a few strides He crossed the silent shop and opened the wooden shutters to a square shaft of sunshine that pierced the darkness, painting a box of daylight on the dirt floor.
He looked around the carpentry shop. He stood for a moment in the refuge of the little room that housed so many sweet memories. He balanced the hammer in His hand. He ran his fingers across the sharp teeth of the saw. He stroked the smoothly worn wood of the sawhorse.
He had come to say good-bye.
It was time for Him to leave. He had heard something that made Him know it was time to go. So He came one last time to smell the sawdust and lumber.
Life was peaceful here. Life was so . . . safe. Here He had spent countless hours of contentment. On this dirt floor He had played as a toddler while His father worked. Here Joseph had taught Him how to grip a hammer. And on this workbench He had built His first chair.
I wonder what He thought as He took one last look around the room. Perhaps He stood for a moment at the workbench looking at the tiny shadows cast by the chisel and shavings. Perhaps He listened as voices from the past filled the air.
"Good job, Jesus."
"Joseph, Jesus - come and eat!"
"Don't worry, sir, we'll get it finished on time. I'll get Jesus to help me."
I wonder if He hesitated. I wonder if His heart was torn. I wonder if He rolled a nail between His thumb and fingers, anticipating the pain. It was in the carpentry shop that He must have given birth to His thoughts. Here concepts and convictions were woven together to form the fabric of His ministry.
You can almost see the tools of His trade in His words as He spoke. You can see the trueness of a plumb line as He called for moral standards. You can hear the whistle of the plane as He pleads for religion to shave away unnecessary traditions. You can picture the snugness of a dovetail as He demands loyalty in relationships. You can imagine Him with a pencil and a ledger as He urges honesty.
It was here that His human hands shaped the wood His divine hands had created. And it was here that His body matured while His Spirit waited for the right moment, the right day. And now that day had arrived.
It must have been difficult to leave. After all, life as a carpenter hadn't been bad. It wasn't bad at all. Business was good. The future was bright and His work was enjoyable. In Nazareth He was known only as Jesus, the son of Joseph. You can be sure He was respected in the community. He was good with His hands. He had many friends. He was a favorite among the children. He could tell a good joke and had a habit of filling the air with contagious laughter.
I wonder if He wanted to stay. "I could do a good job here in Nazareth. Settle down. Raise a family. Be a civic leader." I wonder because I know He had already read the last chapter.
He knew that the feet that would step out of the safe shadow of the carpentry shop would not rest until they had been pierced and placed on a Roman cross.
You see, He didn't have to go. He had a choice. He could have stayed. He could have kept his mouth shut. He could have ignored the call or at least postponed it. And had He chosen to stay, who would've known? Who would have blamed Him?
He could have come back as a man in another era when society was not so volatile, when religion wasn't so stale, when people would listen better. He could have come back when crosses were out of style.
But his heart wouldn’t let him. If there was hesitation on His part of humanity, it was overcome by the compassion of His divinity. His divinity heard the voices. His divinity heard the hopeless cries of the poor, the bitter accusations of the abandoned, the dangling despair of those who are trying to save themselves.
And His divinity saw the faces. Some wrinkled. Some weeping. Some hidden behind veils. Some obscured by fear. Some earnest with searching. Some blank with boredom. From the face of Adam to the face of the infant born somewhere in the world as you read these words, He saw them all
And you can be sure of one thing. Among the voices that found their way into that carpentry shop in Nazareth - was your voice. Your silent prayers uttered on tear-stained pillows were heard before they were said. Your deepest questions about death and eternity were answered before they were asked. And your direst need, your need for a Savior, was met before you ever sinned.
And not only did He hear you, He saw you. He saw your face aglow the hour you first knew Him. He saw your face in shame the hour you first fell. The same face that looked back at you from this morning's mirror, looked at Him. And it was enough to kill Him.
He left because of you. He laid his security down with His hammer. He hung tranquility on the peg with His nail apron. He closed the window shutters on the sunshine of His youth and locked the door on the comfort and ease of anonymity.
Since He could bear your sins more easily than He could bear the thought of your hopelessness, He chose to leave. It wasn't easy. Leaving the carpentry shop never has been.
Every bit of this story makes me simply sob. Every time I read it to my third graders, I wept. Literally wept. Words are that powerful. But what is most powerful to me is that Lucado has captured the story of Easter in only a few hundred words.
He’s right. Jesus didn’t have to bear the cross. He didn’t. But then, Jesus saw you. He saw me. And his divinity wouldn’t allow his humanity to do anything but close the door to his safe surroundings. Close the door to a well-loved, wonderful childhood. Close the door to simply being known as Jesus and moving into being the Light of the World that he was from the day he was born.
The time had come. He knew it. He shut that door to the shop and began a journey that took him to many thousands of people. A journey that would have him share the stories of old, the stories that teach lessons. A journey that had him do the miracles that God had promised he would do. A journey that would lead him into Jerusalem atop a donkey, with the people shouting "Hosanna in the highest," and "Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord." And just a few days later, betrayal.
The night of the betrayal finds Jesus in great despair. He retreated to the Garden to pray. He asked his disciples to keep watch, but they simply fell asleep. That night Jesus pleaded with the father.
Luke 22:42:
“Father, if you are willing, take this cup from me; yet not my will, but yours be done.”
Did you catch that? Not my will Lord, but yours be done. He could have left. He could have said, “I just can’t,” but he loved us too much for that. Instead, he gave himself over to the soldiers who arrested him. He gave himself over as a sacrifice when the crowd voted for Barabbas instead of him. He endured the pain, the suffering, the beating, the scorn.
Isaiah 53:5 says it this way:
“But he was pierced for our transgressions, he was crushed for our iniquities; the punishment that brought us peace was on him, and by his wounds we are healed.”
Let’s remind ourselves again. When he looked at humanity, he didn’t just see humanity, he saw you. He saw me. And his love for us was so great, so unconditional that he would allow them to nail him to the cross. To literally become sin, so that judgment would reign on him. Not you. Not me. On Jesus, the perfect lamb of God. And when judgment had been completed, he said, “IT IS FINISHED” and the living body died.
Students would often say to me, “How can we call this Good Friday?” Here’s why!
Jesus, the giver of all good gifts gave us the greatest gift of all - His great love for man purchased every blessing, every gift for us. His true goodness to humanity opened the gates of Heaven to all. And soon, GOODNESS will overcome!
So, on this Good Friday, pause to remember that good and most gracious gift. And take a moment to pause and reflect on that darkness that overshadowed the Earth that day. But, remember, we know, we know - the darkness doesn’t remain. No, it does not! God’s goodness to us is about to burst forth three days later.
So, yes, it is a Good Friday. A good Friday to remember this:
“For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life.” - John 3:16
Til next time,
XO Nikki
