Jesus arrives not with a ladder for us to climb out of creation, but a shovel He’ll use to dig up the wicked root of our sin within creation. And in its place, He’ll plant the sacrificial love of God, burying His own body like a seed deep in the death of our world, cracked open to bring new life rising up from creation’s broken heart.
— Joshua Ryan Butler, The Pursuing God, 209.
We look up at the small blue circle there,
The roof of our self-excavated hole,
And wonder how or if we’ll breathe the air
Beyond this dirt-dacha of moping moles.
Rescue comes, but hope is once seen then stole’,
For a shovel and no ladder descends
And the blue above seems as black as coal.
But Rescue digs, His arms and back bend
Replacing a root with Self—vine-seed—out to wend.
The germinating seed sends shoots skyward;
Among its leaves we’re grafted and brought out
Of dirt-dark to blue-sky-light—free—upward,
Transforming grief into triumphant shout
The hole we dug became the Victor’s rout
Over the rank filth we once wallowed in
And the blue roof turns ashen with rain clouds
Whose drops fall on us, all the dirt is cleansed
By Rescue’s joy whose healthy sunshine will not end.