When the soldiers crucified Jesus, they took His clothes and divided them into four parts, a part for each soldier. They also took the tunic, which was seamless, woven in one piece from the top. So they said to one another, “Let’s not tear it, but cast lots for it, to see who gets it.” John 19:23-24
Therefore, since we have a great high priest who has passed through the heavens-Jesus the Son of God- let us hold fast to the confession. Hebrews 4:14
My words…
Praise
Lord, whenever I read a particularly poignant scene, whether it be from a book of fiction or scripture, I close my eyes and attempt to place myself in that scene, standing afar off or hovering overhead, like a ghost. When I read about your gruesome death, the bare, physical facts of it, I struggle to maintain my ghostly presence. The air is saturated with the smell of sweat and blood. The agonizing cries of the robbers, hanging on your right and left, mingle with jeers from the crowd and the sobs of women. Your head hangs to one side. A thin stream of bright red blood trickles from an embedded thorn and runs across your eye, purple and swollen shut. Every inch of your body is caked with blood and dirt. I’ve seen enough. Just when I’ve decided to open my eyes and flee the first century, my attention is diverted to a group of Roman soldiers gathered nearby. Since their eyes have grown numb to the brutal spectacle of crucifixion, they find something to help wile away the hours until they are called upon to break the legs of the criminals and send them to their anticipated death. A game begins, right there at the foot of the cross. What are the chances they would confiscate a seamless garment owned by a reviled Jew? Too valuable to divide, they gamble for it. As the game ends, and the victorious soldier clutches the garment in his grimy hand, I wonder who made it. A woman, I believe, must have woven it on her loom and presented it to You, her Lord, as a token of her adoration. It must have been extremely difficult and time-consuming to create. Knowing that only high priests wear seamless tunics, the gift is appropriately given and received. The weaver used her talents to offer You an act of worship. She sacrificed her time and energy to create a perfect gift for her perfect Savior. It was…seamless.
Prayer for me
I’m not a weaver. I wish I could have known that first century woman with the talented, nimble fingers. I only have her example to follow. What gift of love may I present to You? I look to Your Holy Spirit to teach me, each day, how to live as You intend me to live, so I may present my life as a gift to You. However, my life is not a perfect seamless, garment. It’s been ripped and patched. You should know. You’re the One who patched it.
More Praise
I often wonder what that Roman solider did with your seamless garment. Did he wear it? Sell it? It doesn’t matter, does it? When You accepted that gift, You lifted the spirit of that lowly weaver to new heights. She was never the same. You do the same to me. I offer You my threadbare life. It doesn’t matter that it’s tattered. You make me…seamless. And I am never the same.
