Good Friday Struggle

I hate it.  I really do.  I absolutely hate the story of the cross.

Today is Good Friday.  Today is the day we celebrate a story that I absolutely hate.   What an oxymoron.

This story.  This true, true story--- it tears at my heart and pains me in ways I can't explain.

Each year, as the day approaches and I know the story will be read and retold, I can feel myself wanting to run away and hide.  Like a child, I want to cover my ears, stick my head under my pillow, and never hear the horrible story again.  I hate it.

This past Monday morning, I was stunned by my visceral response when I remembered this was Holy week.  No! I could feel the cringe in my body and soul.  No! I don't want to read that part of the story.  The very mention of the topic and I can feel the sorrow, the pain, the suffering, and the tears welling up.

We call this day "good".  And, with all my heart, I believe and I know it IS indeed good--- so very good.  But, also, I can barely stand it.

It feels like reliving trauma or painful memories of my past.  Why must we, Lord?! 

Friday morning---this morning---we all enter the sanctuary and take our comfy seats.  The pastor reads the story out of Mark.  The parishioner reads from the Gospel of John.  We sing some songs.  They tell the story and share the truth of that day.  All morning, I can barely stand it.  I want to weep.  I want to wail.  Everything in me wants to scream!  Why must I hear again what my best friend---the man I love with all my heart---went through!?  Honestly, hearing the trauma and suffering is almost too much.  Even as I type this... I barely have words.  The heaviness of heart feels profoundly weighty.

Forgive them, for they know not what they do.

These words haunt me today.  These words tag along at my back, touch my cheek, and whisper deep into my heart.  I know I don't have a clue what I do!  I don't even get it.  All my rebellion.  All my selfishness.  All my pride and self-loathing.  Forgive me, Lord, for I don't know what I do! 

I found myself in Romans 7 earlier this week, frustrated with myself and my faithlessness.  "I do not understand what I do.  For what I want to do, I do not do.  But, what I hate, I do." (Romans 7:15)

I know that He pronounced it finished on that day.  He said it was finished that Good, very good, Friday.

For this, I am utterly undone.  My soul feels gratitude beyond words.  It is finished.  All my rebellion.  Covered, finished.  All my selfishness.  Finished and payed for.  All my pride and self-loathing.  Carried, covered, payed for, and finished.  

Forgive me, Lord, for I don't know what I do!  

This story.  This horrible story is the very center and foundation of all I know and all I absolutely need.  The result of that trauma--- my friend's horrific death and painful sacrifice---is the source of all that is good and right in my life.  All of it.

So, yes, I loath it... I really do.   I am grieving today.

But, I know and I remember, it very, very good.

"Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith.  For the joy set before him, he endured the cross, scorning it's shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God"  (Hebrews 12:2)

Squirmin' Mercy Needed

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As I am reading through the Old Testament right now, I am squirming...

It wasn't really what I expected when I was beginning my journey back through the Bible.  He does surprise us, doesn't He?  Our big, beyond, and other-than-me God!  

It isn't that I haven't read the Old Testament many times before.  I have.  But, I don't know...I was just expecting a different understanding and experience.  I wasn't expecting to squirm.  I wasn't expecting to feel the conviction and the heaviness.

But, I am.  I am wriggling as I read.  

I started the reading on January 1st, intending to read through the Bible in a year.  I am already behind... and it is only the end of February.  But, I am ambling my way through.  And, as I read, I am squirming in in my seat.  I am uncomfortable.

My prayer and my heart's desire was to find God's love in and through the pages of the Old Testament.  And, His love is there, to be sure!  I am seeing His heart.  His feelings for His people is as passionate and as connected as it has always been since the beginning of time.  He cares.  Deeply. 

His love is shown forth in amazing deliverance, provision, and constant forgiveness.  But the reality is that God's care and His love are also expressed in His anger and frustration.  I am seeing the Truth of Revelation 3:19, "Those whom I love, I rebuke and discipline."  He rebukes.  He disciplines.  He loves.  ...He is a good, kind Father.  Good, kind, loving parents do discipline and rebuke and feel frustration with their kids!

But, His goodness does look, feel, and sound a bit painful at times in Exodus... and in Leviticus ...and in Numbers.  And, I know it only gets more intense and more painful as I anticipate ahead toward the reading of Ezekiel.  

I love God's word so much.  I believe that His Word is teaching me... even as I squirm.  For weeks I have been asking God to show me the sufferings of Christ... that I might touch them more deeply this Lent season.  He has answered this prayer many times already.  I have been feeling, more keenly, the pain, suffering, and sin that taints our world so drastically every day.  I have sensed His suffering.

But, more recently, I feel He is showing me the pain, the suffering, and the sin deep within Stephanie.  Deep within me.  He is showing me my own heart and my sin.  And, that this darkness... pains Him greatly.  This is Lent suffering close at hand.  My sin.  ...in desperate need of the Resurrection and His salvation!  

I can relate to those He is rebuking.  I have, and do still today, complain and grumble about the same thing time-and-time-again.  I walk faithless and worried, not trusting my Father to provide.  I ignore His Presence.  And, I turn away from His best ways--- His Truth.   

As I read about the Korah's rebellion in Numbers 16 yesterday, I was so deeply struck by how I could relate to these prideful men.  I, too, have grumbled against leaders.  I, too, have felt "holier than thou" and stood in judgment toward my brothers.  Have you?  

I am reading the Old Testament and squirming in my seat these days.  

All I can say today when I sit and ponder are the words found in the ancient Jesus Prayer:  Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, as sinner.  And, I thank Him for His fresh mercy every morning!  (Lamentations 3:22-23).  Because of His great love, I am not consumed.  

Pain stinks

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We all walk the road of pain in this broken, broken world.  And, when I have to endure suffering and pain, it sucks.  Doesn't it?  Plain and simple.  It stinks.

But, to watch someone you love suffer and to feel so helpless to stop their pain... well, that just rips and tears in a way that is different and deep.  The watching is not more painful, per se.  It is just different and intense and confusing.

I am watching someone in pain and I am witness to suffering that I can't stop.  And, it hurts deep.  It pains my heart in ways that are hard to put words to...

In tears, I sat with the Lord this morning.  What do I even say to You, Lord?  I had no words.  Just tears.

I hate this suffering.  I hate to watch and hear about the pain.  I hate the confusion.  Father...  

There are times when words don't work and all we have is His name.  Father...   My eyes cried tears as my heart whispered this single word today.  Father.  A single word was enough--- it was full expression of my prayer to Him.

We have been talking about the beauty of Lent and this season of "longing" and "hunger":  A time to feel, to touch and remember the sufferings of Christ.  ...waiting for Good Friday.  ...waiting for Easter.  ...waiting and anticipating the resurrection and eternal life.

Oh man! With the news of this suffering, I can feel the deep longing and the groaning for Heaven!  Lent lessons right smack dab in front of me.

Longing.  And heaviness.  And, sadness.  Oh Father...  

After the tears subsided, there came a few more words to aid my prayer...  Isn't there another way?  

These words came out of my heart unbidden.  As they formed in my mind I recognized them---Don't they sound familiar?  Isn't this what Jesus was saying to the Father in the garden? Can this cup pass from me, please, Father? (Matthew 26:39)  Isn't there another way, Father?  

I know this road--or, at least, I know a small portion of this road.

And, I know beyond any shadow of doubt that suffering and pain have done significant work in me:  heart, soul and character work in my life.  Deep work.  I know... that I know... that know... that I know...  that suffering has indeed produced endurance.  It is producing faith, character and hope in my life.  In fact, I really can't imagine myself without my past and current pain journey.  It is one way, one avenue, God has used greatly to show me His love and His touch and the knowledge of Him.

I want this deep, heart work in my loved one.  But, still as I watch this dear one hurting...  and, I asked my loving Father, Is there any other way?   

There was no straight answer to my question.  There are no easy answers to pain and suffering, are there?
But there was a faint lifting of heart and a glimmer of hope welling up from within me.  I have been learning and am re-learning today that this faith and hope will not disappoint.  God's love will be poured into my and her life.  (Romans 5:3-5)

But, the truth still remains.  To endure suffering or watch suffering simply stinks.  Royally.  Doesn't it?

Barabbas and Me

Give us Barabbas!

Why in the world would they choose to release Barabbas instead of you, Lord?  

These were the thoughts that came tumbling out of my heart when reading the account of Pilate's offer to release a prisoner for the Passover feast*.  (John 18:39-40)  "Give us Barabbas!" they cried.  

After all they had seen of Jesus.  After seeing His healing, His kindness, and hearing His teaching...  They chose Barabbas, Lord??!!  

No, Stephanie. I chose Barabbas.  The words flooded my mind.  I chose Barabbas.  "No one can take my life from me.  I lay it down voluntarily.  For I have the right to lay it down and the power to take it up again.  My Father has given me this right."  (John 10:18)

And, I chose you, too.  

Me and Barabbas.  Both rebellious sinners...both guilty.  Both released and offered freedom on the same day.  That day Jesus took our punishment, walked our road, and carried our sins.   Barabbas' crime and sentence---my punishment and my sin.  

I am chosen.  I am released.  He walked in my place.
  

Chosen to be freed and offered a new life.  I wonder how Barabbas spent his remaining free days on earth?  I want to remember and walk as one loved, chosen and set free each day of my life.  You?  How will you spend your days of freedom?  

"Where have your love, your mercy, your compassion shone out more luminously than in your own wounds, sweet gentle Lord of mercy?  More mercy than this no one has than that he lay down his life for those who are doomed to death."  ~Bernard of Clairvaus

*I am reading a wonderful daily Lent devotion that is free for download here.  

"See yourself as Barabbas, [condemned] awaiting your sentence of death.  Then consider how it would be to have someone loosen your chains, and release you, no questions asked." ~Tricia Rhodes

He remained silent... unless

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In those last hours before His death, He was left by His friends.  Alone He walked.  Alone He stood.  He was questioned and assaulted and still He remained silent. (Matthew 26: 63)

Silent, that is, sometimes.

There were times, very specific times, when He spoke up.  There was a question that He simply couldn't and wouldn't deny, even with silence.  He wouldn't allow them to misunderstand His silence as denial.  

He could not keep quiet any longer when asked about who He was.  He must speak forth His identity.  

"If you are the Christ, then tell us!" they demanded. "Are you the Son of God?" they questioned.  

"I am",  Jesus answers.  No more silence.  

"But Jesus remained silent.  The high priest said to Him, "I charge you under the oath of the living God, tell us if you are the Christ, the Son of God."  (Matthew 26:63)

"Yes, it is as you say."  (v.64)   

The humility of silence wouldn't stand when questioned about His very Being or about His relationship to His Father.  He cannot, will not, deny who He is.  

Even as my eyes glance over the words, "Yes, it is as you say," a memory floods my mind.  As I read this today, thinking on those last moments of Christ's life, I can't help but think of the recent moment when I remained silent.    Just the other day, in fact.  Not questioned, exactly... and certainly not assaulted, the opportunity to speak of who I am in Christ came and went.  I remained silent.  

Did I deny my Lord that day?  Well, not exactly...  But, my silence was truly full of cowardice, people-pleasing, and insecurity.  Was my silence a form of denial?  I knew the moment I walked away from the situation.  I felt the tug and sadness, the conviction, of His Spirit.  

He had been there with me.  I am never alone.  He had given me words.  I had Truth still lingering on my tongue.  I could have testified with my mouth.  But, I chose silence...  "humble" "gentle" "inoffensive" silence.  I remained silent.  

My Jesus remained silent that day.  Silent, that is... unless asked about who He was.  He just won't deny who He is, even with silence.  

A Bitter, bitter cup

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A full, overflowing cup of pain, sickness and sin.  A cup full of rebellion, apathy, and hatred.  A cup full of stench, slime, and darkness I can hardly imagine.  This is the cup He was asked, intended, sent to drink.  This cup, this disgusting cup, is what my Jesus wrestled with the Father about that lonely night. He must drink it. 
...he fell on His face and prayed, saying, "My Father, if it is possible, let this cup pass from Me..." (Matthew 26:39)

When I really look--- I mean really take a long, thoughtful gaze---at my sin, it deeply grieves me.  The sin in my husband's life, my kids' hearts, and the sin in my friends... these too can bring a heaviness that sickens my soul.  I can just smell our sin and feel unwell.  And, I only have a taste, one small waft, of the stench of our sinful hearts.

My Jesus drank deep from this cup.

My sinful tendencies, habits, attitudes, thoughts and actions fill the cup that Jesus chose to drink that dark night in the Garden.
And, oh!, am I so glad He did.

Tricia Rhodes, in her book Contemplating the Cross, asks me to think for a moment, "Try for a moment to imagine the cup the Father holds out. Look into it.  What do you see?" and then she invites me to ponder further, "What would your life hold today had Jesus dashed the cup to the ground, refusing to drink it's bitter dregs?  Don't rush with this question.  Evaluate it deeply, pondering days and nights of an existence without redemption."

Days and nights without redemption.  The words alone bring grief and sadness to my soul.

Days and nights without forgiveness and mercy.  ...without grace.   Think on it just a moment...  a life lived without His peace, release and freedom.

When I linger on this thought for even a moment...  Oh!  The gratefulness in my heart wells so full and so deep, I can hardly contain it!

How do I even begin to thank you, my dearest Savior?  Thank you for drinking in my sin!  How do I even begin to worship You aright? Words can not express what you have given me in this choice, this obedience, this drinking.  You have brought me near!  You have loved me with an everlasting love.  You have released me and filled me and washed me white as newly fallen snow.  You have made this crooked one, this wounded child... me... straight and whole!  Teach my soul to see you, to see me, to see this world rightly with your eyes.  

"I want a principle within,
Of watchful, godly fear,
A sensibility of sin,
A pain to feel it near.
Help me the first approach to feel
Of pride or wrong desire,
To catch the wandering of my will,
And quench the kindling fire.

If to the right or left I stray,
That moment, Lord, reprove,
And let me weep my life away
For having grieved your love.
Give me to feel an idle thought
As actual wickedness,
And mourn for the moment minutest fault
In exquisite distress.

Almighty God of truth and love,
To me thy power impart,
The burden from my soul remove,
The hardness from my heart.
O may the least omission pain
My reawakened soul,
And drive me to that grace again,
Which makes the wounded whole.
~Charles Wesley, "I Want a Principle Within"

Remain and Keep

photo source:  Garden of Gethsemane

He has just walked with his disciples into the garden.  Evening light and a soft, cool breeze may have accompanied this quiet journey.

His words to his disciples, his friends, express a sadness that is deep beyond language, "My soul is deeply grieved to the point of death." (Mark 14:34).   Deathly sadness.

I have experienced grief---deep, dark, physically painful grief--- but, I have never been grieved to the point of death.  This is grief of epic proportions.  Jesus was walking forward that night into pain unimaginable.

And, He told his friends of His heart. But, they didn't get it.  They just couldn't.  And, neither can I.   I want to get it, Jesus, my friend.  I want to understand Your heart more... 

They keep with Him, following and trying to understand their teacher, their friend.  But, He must separate Himself and wrestle with His heart.  He goes a stone's throw away...

...with one request of His friends.  "Remain here and keep watch with me."  (Matthew 26:38)

Remain here.  


Keep watch.  


With Me... 

He is asking them to stay, to stand firm, to remain where He tells them.  Obedience.  Awareness.  Remain in Today, Stephanie... Rest in me.  Remain right where I have put you.  Don't rush.  Just rest and remain still.  

He is asking them to keep awake, to keep aware, to be watchful and ready.  Alert.  Aware.  Keep awake, Stephanie, while this world slumbers.  

He is asking... or is He inviting?... them to do it all with Him.  Close to Him.  Within earshot and able to feel, sense and see His pain.  Do this all with Me.  I am always Present, always with you, always available.  

The themes of this month, pour over me with these words... Remain here, Keep watch, and stay With Me.

Is He whispering to you, I wonder? ...  Stay here and watch with Me, my friend.  

Remember and Keep Awake

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I had an odd experience last night.  Exhausted, my head hit the pillow and I desperately wanted to fall asleep.  But, I just couldn't.  I was being kept awake by a very strange noise.  ...bird song.  It was long past 11:00 PM and yet, they were singing as if it was early morning.  Confused birds!?

Loud and lovely, they sang, as if the sun was on the horizon.  But it wasn't.

I was annoyed and tired.  For the longest time, I laid there frustrated, tossing and turning, with the beautiful bird chirped song pounding my tired ears!    And, then I prayed.  Drawn by God's Spirit, I was reminded of the fact that God's creation is His to use and speak through at all times.   So, I asked, Father is this for me?  Why are these birds singing at this time of night.  


I instantly felt a response well-up in my spirit, Stay awake, Stephanie.  


And, I knew He wanted me to remember.  He wanted me to be alert and awake in this sleepy, tired, busy, media-saturated,  lulled world!  I had just finished the Prayer of Examen before bed.  I had become very aware at how much of my day is spent truly unaware of God's Always-Presence.


Stay awake and remember.  These birds are awake when all around them everything is sleeping.  ...you need to be like these birds!    

I do forget and fall asleep.  I walk through life sometimes like a dream, half aware and sleepy.  One thing to the next ---and then on to the next thing.  I do forget.  Do you?

So easily, the distractions of every day life pull us away from the Real and the Eternal.  We fix our eyes on things seen, not the unseen.  Or, at least I do.

And, what a beautiful Truth is found in remembering our Lord, our Friend, our Brother!  I want to fix my eyes on Him:  Jesus, the Author and Perfecter of my faith.

Today, in an effort to remember and to remind my soul of sweet, real, awake and eternal things,  I begin a Lenten study of the cross and Christ's work there.  If you want to join me you can find free lessons to download and print from Tricia Rhodes' blog, The Soul at Rest   or you can buy her wonderful book with these lessons inside, Contemplating the Cross-A 40 Day Pilgrimage in Prayer.  

"Today and every day, God the Father extends an invitation---to actors and mechanics, schoolteachers and bright-eyed children, preachers and bartenders, accountants and garbage collectors, gamblers and homemakers.  It is an eternal unchanging summons to kneel in the shadow of that cross, where He sacrificed His only Son, and made it our souls' home.  God beckons us to gaze in awe at what we see on Calvary's mount."  Tricia Rhodes, Contemplating the Cross.  

Thank you God for your pursuit of me, your pursuit of your sons and daughters!  Thank you that you pursued us at creation, in the garden, last night and today.  Thank you Father for the deep, lasting, generous gift of Your Son's life.  Thank you Jesus for entering in, pushing through, walking here and loving me so much.  Thank you Holy Spirit that You will lead me into all Truth and teach me about my God!!