Mosiah 14

“I’ve memorized long stretches of Isaiah. Let me quote you a passage:

Who believes what we have to say about the coming One? He will grow up before God like a little wildflower poking through the cracks in dried mud. He won’t be pretty. No one will think he’s any kind of a looker. Indeed, people will ignore him or even hate him. He’s such a downer, they’ll say. We need more sunshine in our preachers. But he’s gloomy about us. He can’t help himself. We think God’s cursed him.

But all his pain is for our sins. We own the whip stains on his back. That blue bruise is on the cheek he turned for us. If we’ve gotten away with anything it’s because he closed the gate on the hounds of heaven. Sheep walk to the shearer without bleating. Lambs stick their head in the portal for the ax but don’t shriek. This man is the same way. He bites his tongue then surrenders. He turns injustice into mercy. Though he never lied or hurt anyone, he’ll be buried in an abandoned tomb.

Our mysterious God insisted on this paradox. He will somehow turn this into good, the way he’s prone to do. The way he insists we kill a harmless lamb to wound our own feelings for his sake. That pleases him. And we must accept it. Greatness and strength blossom from this grotesquerie in the same way that all great truths come as knots in the tree.