My son, GOD Will Provide Himself A LAMB+ .....

Meditation on the PASSOVER LAMB+  
~ ~ ~  Our PASCHA+

 ~  ~  ~  The Conclusion  ~  ~  ~ 

A Story About The GREAT EXCHANGE 

Adapted and condensed from James Ramsey Ullman's 

"TOP MAN"  short story, 1953

under the Fair Use Act

Not for profit... except as it may profit the soul. 

( Story continued from yesterday... )

"Paul, I'll hold out my ax. When I say 'JUMP,' grab the ax head and jump to my ledge," Martin said, gasping for air. “I will pull you. There is enough room for both of us.”

Paul nodded, tensing for the jump.

Focusing intensely, Martin steadied his ax horizontally and immediately called

 "JUMP !"

 ... and Paul landed onto the narrow ledge, crouching down, hugging the rock with his toes and gripping the ax in his hands. The snow crust on which he had been standing had disappeared without a whisper.

But, 

in 

a 

simultaneous 

flash .  .  . 

... as Paul landed, a blurred figure hurtled out into that vast blue space over the ledge. 

The rope tied around my waist jerked me hard into near convulsions... then suddenly... my pain was gone.  

Numbly, I saw our yellow climbing rope dangling in mid-air, the frayed end swinging freely to and fro... to and fro ... where Martin should have been.

 Paul, stunned, looked stupidly at the ax that only he held in his hand now.

I remained crouched down, pinned to the ground in numbness. Paul inched his way toward me, off the slim ledge.

Finally, Paul said flatly, "I'm going up. Do you want to come?" I shook my head and remained motionless, crouched for an hour? two hours? four hours?

I lost track of the time before I heard Paul --- haggard, spent, clothing shredded --- returning, without emotion, toward me from the other direction. 

"Did you reach the top?" I dully asked, not caring.

"No," Paul said, woodenly. "I didn't have what it takes."

With little talk, we grimly returned to camp 7 and camp 6 and all the rest of the camps until our expedition reached safety, minus one mountaineer. No more expeditions were tried that year for K3. 

In later years another expedition did strive to be the first climbers to reach the top of K3 … only to find a climber’s ax buried in the top of K3’s peak. 

Engraved on the old ax head were the words, 

"to Martin from John."

+  +  +

 The Great Exchange

Who was Paul?

Everyone thoroughly enjoyed Paul... except when he snapped out criticism to Martin's well-tempered decisions. Paul, who chafed under the restraining decisions, only controlled himself with great difficulty. 

Clever and skilled and well-trained, Paul had not yet seen the Unconquered Killer of Man devour the best of climbers, the best of friends.

His character revealed the sins of being bright ... with impatience,   of being exuberant... with Self-will,   of being well-skilled yet unsubmitting those skills to one with better judgment.  

Paul had unswerving goals but was unmindful of whom they hurt. He followed those deep desires only to fulfill his own ambition and glory.  Paul wanted to win, to feel superior. 

Indeed, he FELT superior.

Now change ...

that fateful ax into a cross.  Put CHRIST on the ledge instead of Martin. 

It is CHRIST JESUS, now, extending His+ Cross to Paul.

Exchange ...  

Paul’s face to yours... to mine … and you will see what it cost CHRIST to save you…. to save me … from our sins.   

Always, always chafing at His+ restraints, we will not stop ourselves.

Our sins … our stubborn self-will, our foolish pride in what we know,  our earthly skills, our rational rationalizing, our well-touted talents, and our adroit abilities …  put us out there on a deceitful ledge, of evaporating snow.   

Yes, it FEELS solid and looks solid --- to us --- but  no solid rock underneath our feet exists. 

Unfortunately, we are too blinded with Self to see that for ourselves.  The unseen abyss awaits us momentarily.

And worse, that unseen abyss is Eternal.

Forfeiting His+ Life is what it cost CHRIST --- like Martin ---  to deliver Paul, to pull him to safety. 

Unlike Martin, however, The LORD knew ahead of time what it would cost HIMSELF+ to rescue you... rescue me... rescue everyone of us human beings. 

Yes... HE+ knew ahead of time that HE+ was going to EXCHANGE His+ life for yours, for mine, for all ... while we were yet angry, proud sinners like Paul ... when HE+ extended His+ Cross to us.  

HE+ did it anyway. 

This is what our deliverance cost JESUS. 

 Every time you sin… every time I sin … 

are we 

crucifying CHRIST afresh? 

Are we repeatedly putting HIM+ to an open shame before all ... before the eyes of others .... and also before the unseen Watchers in the Heavenlies ?

CHRIST, better than Martin, knew the strength of the enemy awaiting to devour men. 

+  +  +

CHRIST died for you, Scripture says.

HE+ gave HIMSELF+ for your sins, 

that HE+ might deliver you 

from this present evil world

... and an eternity 

in the lake of fire.

HE+ did it all for you.

GOD, be merciful to me, a sinner.

+  +  +

LORD JESUS CHRIST, LAMB+ of GOD,

WHO+ taketh away the sin of the world, 

Have mercy upon me.

LORD JESUS CHRIST, LAMB+ of GOD,

BEARER+ of our sins, 

Have mercy upon me.

LORD JESUS CHRIST, LAMB+ of GOD,

SAVIOR+ of the world,

Grant me Thy+ Peace.

+

The GREAT PASSOVER EXCHANGE...

Meditation on the PASSOVER LAMB+  ~ ~ ~  Our PASCHA

Part 2 

A Story About The GREAT EXCHANGE 

Adapted and condensed from James Ramsey Ullman's 

"TOP MAN"  short story, 1953

under the Fair Use Act

Not for profit... except as it may profit the soul. 

( Story continued from yesterday... )

Camp 7 was only 200 feet ... yes, 200 treacherous feet with death in every step... from the top of K3, a peak never before conquered by man.

Then, suddenly what we dreaded happened: a snow-storm hit camp 7 and the peak of K3, only 200 feet above us! Vicious wind, stinging snow, and deep drifts hanging out at angles, deceptive, off the rocky ledges... and all this to endure in a thin-oxygenated atmosphere.

The vicious snow storm finally ceased and then a worse condition hit: the sun shone brightly in a clear blue sky.  

For three days it shone, melting down the top layer of snow, the deep temperatures forming a thin crust... a deceptive crust... on top of the snow. 

We three men waited out the storm and sunshine in camp 7. One day... two days... three days we waited more. Waiting and waiting for the snow to harden deeply or blow away, grown men used to laborious climbing daily, our nerves were on edge. 

During that time, we were barely able to talk due to the thin oxygen at that high altitude of 26,500 feet. We had to use our emergency oxygen canisters after a few sentences. Much movement was out of the question. After the third day, Martin realized the snow cover was receiving 12 hours of sun daily...  and still unsafe.   

Slowly, evenly, Martin said, "Men, we will have to return to camp 6 tomorrow. Our supplies are running low. The snow crust is still too unstable, with all this sun shine. We cannot wait any longer."

" NO !" Paul snarled, glaring at Martin, then gasping for air. “We are only 200 feet from the top and after all this time... return to camp 6... 200 feet from the top? Out of the question!  I am not returning now !"

"Paul, I am the senior mountaineer in charge. You have no choice. I have weighed the conditions --- I've seen them before --- and it is too dangerous to proceed," Martin said, before collapsing on his cot, heaving deeply for oxygen before finding his canister.

"Who said you knew all about this mountain? Are you infallible? What right do you have to tell me what to do?" Paul griped, hoarsely.

"The truth is, you are too old to do this climb. You do not have what it takes to be top man.

“So, if you are too afraid to climb it, you refuse to allow anyone else to do it, that's what!" Coughing and collapsing onto his cot, Paul was forced to stop throwing angry barbs at Martin.

The men ceased talking, beaten by a lack of oxygen and despair, and buttoned up for the night, the last night at camp 7.

Shortly after midnight, I awoke. Something was wrong. I flashed my light about. Martin was putting on his outer boots. "What is happening?" I cried.

"Paul's gone; I'm going after him," Martin said. "Wait.  I'm coming with you," I told Martin, as I removed myself from my cot and reached for my outer boots.

We roped ourselves together, and after about a hour of slow, laborious climbing, we saw Paul as he was starting up the peak. He did not see us, however, but in about 30 minutes more we had come close enough to hail him.

Suddenly, Martin tensed and pointed. I looked. 

On K3's peak, there were two ways to climb to the top. One was a laborious chimney-type climb up an ice-covered rocky face. The other way was around the rocky face, on treacherous, narrow cornices of crusty snow from the last storm.

Paul, unroped, had chosen to ascend by the snow-covered ledges. We watched him carefully put down his pole, test each step, and then move his body forward cautiously.

Careful as he was, however, Paul did not see what we saw from our vantage point: underneath his snowy ledge there was no rock.

He was only held up by the crusted snow which had melted then frozen during the night.  Underneath that deceitful crust was 10,000 feet of blue air.

Martin, weak from the climb in the thin air, called, "Paul, Paul, come back!"

 Paul turned, stopped, looked confused.  I hollered, " Danger! Come back." 

Paul lifted his pole for his next step, then ...  The snow where he was about to plunge his pole simply vanished. Blue sky was all that was left for his next step.

Martin found strength to holler, " Paul, don't move! Don't move an inch! "

Intense concentration wrote itself over Paul's face.

Meanwhile, Martin had edged forward finding toe-holds on narrow rocky ledges... some 5 inches wide or less.  He inched within 6 feet of Paul on one of those slim ledges.

"Paul, I'll hold out my ax. When I say 'JUMP,' grab the ax head and jump to my ledge," Martin said, gasping for air. “I will pull you. There is enough room for both of us.”

Paul nodded, tensing for the jump.

Focusing intensely, Martin steadied his ax horizontally and immediately called

"JUMP !" 

... and Paul landed onto the narrow ledge, crouching down, hugging the rock with his toes and gripping the ax in his hands. 

The snow crust on which he had been standing had disappeared without a whisper.

( Final part of the story to be continued tomorrow... )

+  +  +

O, LAMB+ of GOD

WHO+ taketh away

the sin of the world, 

have mercy upon me. 

The Great EXCHANGE --- Passover LAMB+ Meditation

Meditation on the PASSOVER LAMB+  ~ ~ ~  Our PASCHA 

A Story About The GREAT EXCHANGE 

Adapted and condensed from James Ramsey Ullman's 

"TOP MAN"  short story, 1953

under the Fair Use Act

Not for profit... except as it may profit the soul. 

There it was!  K3 --- a high peak, in mountaineering terms --- stood in massive defiance of its conquerors as we, its potential climbers, rounded the bend of the valley floor.

The huge, icy peak... the Ultimate Challenge to mountaineers,  dressed in glistening, glassy  white ... lured mankind towards it with a mystical pull like the ancient sea sirens of old mythology, pulling, ever pulling mankind towards itself... and certain death for the un-wary.

Two climbers, seasoned, hardy, and determined, Martin and Paul, looked at K3 and sized up the challenge as our expedition grew silent in homage, an homage to the challenge for man, an homage to the glassy white giant looming before us without heart, without feeling.

The older man, Martin, knew its grim history well. For years, it had defeated many a climber, whose broken bodies had long been buried under ice and snow.  And among them, John... Martin's best friend and climbing companion... met his untimely death on the backbone of K3, falling 10,000 feet into nothingness.

 Martin had a vested interest is besting the behemoth, the dreadnaught.

In his unhurried, methodical, yet intense way that he brought to every endeavor, Martin kept a running tab of wind, temperature, snow amount and kinds, as well as a map of K3's back-breaking features, in his head. This seasoned and determined mountaineer was single of eye: he ate, drank, and slept focused on K3... and what it would take to conquer it. I was pleased to be along on this expedition with a man of such a caliber of character. 

We mountaineers and our native Himalayan guides and porters had been climbing the foot of the peak for about a month.  It had been a month of enduring unbelievable snow, wind that sand-peppered our faces, cold temperatures that iced our resolve. But now, there it was! The insurmountable peak, standing undefeated, unrelenting before our faces.

Martin, as superior of a mountaineer as he was, was well-matched in skill by one other climber in our group. Paul, a young college graduate, was as exuberant and impulsive as Martin was steady. Yet, despite his exuberance to conquer the peak, Paul was able to control his skills, to corral his innate sense of what it takes to make it to the top against inhuman odds.

Paul was superbly fitted for this challenge, having trained during smaller expeditions on many difficult peaks in the Alps and Rockies. He had never been in the Himalayas before and for Paul, it was love at first sight.

His senses were honed keen by excitement, and it was contagious. Myself, the guides and porters, and all the other men of our expedition could feel the intensity of Paul's drive to conquer K3. He was electrifying. 

Because Martin was the senior mountaineer, the climbing expedition unanimously followed his advice; his superior experience and intense focus were well-matched to fight the defiant giant, K3, the peak that would not be conquered.   

But Paul, flexing his own set of well-skilled mountaineering muscles, grew impatient with the meticulous judgment Martin exhibited in his always-careful decisions: to steer clear of the ridge, to wait out current weather conditions, to meticulously pick out the best path over the treacherous glacier, to put men's safety ahead of ambition.

" Wait ? Time is moving on, isn't it?" Paul remarked, pointedly, as he always did when Martin’s carefulness irritated him. "Well, why aren't we? "

Martin did not answer, but looked quietly at the old climber’s ax he carried, inscribed, "to Martin from John" on its head.

One unforgettable day, Martin showed his mettle as six of us were scouting out new camp sites on the rugged glacier ridge. Always roped together, we climbers and porters were hacking toe holds into the  ice when a cry shot out of one of the porters as he plummeted down into an icy ravine in the glacier.

The second porter roped next to him cried out as he too slid helplessly towards the ravine, frantic, trying to grasp something to break the fall.  Then, a third porter slid.

I felt the tug of the rope and tried to dig into the ice with my ax, but it was useless to try to brake the momentum of the porters' descent into the glacier’s ravine. 

In a flash, Martin had seized the situation, and knowing that a ridge, a spine of solid ice,  was between the falling porters and the rest of us, Martin hollered to us, "JUMP! "  and we did.  We jumped off our ledge with the rope braced over the spine of solid ice, perfectly balancing the dangling porters by our weight.

After dangling breathlessly a few minutes in mid-air, Martin called, "Okay chaps, slowly ease to the wall and climb up. "  We did, they did, and Martin hauled us all back to camp for a cup of tea!  It was good that he did; we had drops of frozen perspiration on our faces, from fear or weather, I do not know.  

  

On this expedition, the normal procedure was to carry the packs and supplies forward for a couple of miles and set up camp. Then, a few would scout ahead, climbing the ice and snow of the glacier, and set up a smaller camp. 

They would return and the rest of the expedition would move forward to the new camp site, bearing the supply bundles. It was a slow, tedious, back-breaking procedure, and monotony was beginning to drain our resolves more than the below zero temperatures.

In due course of time, the climbing expedition had laboriously set up six camps, each higher, closer to the peak. At each camp, the group left a couple of climbers and porters, so by the time the expedition reached the  7th camp site, there were only three men in camp who would attempt to scale the ice-covered peak: Martin, Paul, and myself.

Camp 7 was only 200 feet ... yes, 200 treacherous feet with death in every step... from the top of K3, a peak never before conquered by man. 

( Story to be continued tomorrow ...  )

O LAMB+ of GOD

Who+ taketh away the sin of the world

have mercy upon me.