Too often, it is reduced to a cotton-candy fluffiness. Nothing to satisfy. Nothing worth the price to gain.
Yet, it’s most gripping revelation is in sacrifice.
Where there is no sacrifice, there is no love.
But where there is Love, can it be called sacrifice? For the one who loves, nothing is too much to give. The genuine stuff doesn’t shrink at the word “all”. Love delights in it. Beyond the point of pain, Love gives. And loves to do it.
The soldier’s sacrifice? It’s as nothing. For the King has taken pain from the hands of death. The scaffold, the fire, the dungeon, the most inhumane atrocity cannot sever one soul from His love.
But at the cross, mystery. Love cut off from Love. Sacrifice beyond measure. Beyond comprehension.
He gave, yet said, I delight.
I give, and call it sacrifice.
Oh, for the love that shrinks at nothing… and gives because it is it’s greatest delight to do so. To know no sacrifice save His, because mine has faded into absolute nothingness in the light of the love of the cross.
Oh, to love sacrifice, because I love His love.