Friday, March 29, 2013

Good Friday

With tears in my eyes I prepare to celebrate the most important holiday - Easter. But before Easter is death - before Easter, Friday must happen. And it tears me apart...just like the body of my Savior.

When did we become apathetic  about the cross? When did I say in my heart that he did not care for me? As my eyes burn, I thank God for the reminder of his love. I thank him for the pain of Good Friday. I allow it to rush over me.

Going to work, cooking, cleaning. Anything to not really think on Good Friday. I stop and listen to the whisper of my God. Whispers to allow the pain overwhelm. To allow the pain to grip my heart. To cry.

Without pain where is the victory? Without the grave, where the resurrection? And without that, relationship?

I allow myself to relate. To feel the pain of rejection. To understand a Father and the pain he feels as his child decides yet again to sin.

I see through the eyes of Mary. I watch the hammer fall. I hear her cry, as she covers her face.

I see through his disciple. Watching his friend and teacher heave, knowing the betrayal and wanting to do it again. To do anything and everything. But it's too late.

I see through the eyes of Jesus. To feel the ardent love that he has. To see those he loves watching and wishing they understood. Not much more. They must know. The rejection of the Father, the cry of a relationship torn. His heart rent more than his body.

The Father, turning away. Not in disgust.  No, in pain. In parallel with what the Son has done. The punishment must be paid to the full. Anguish. Never to be the same.

I see through my own eyes. I see a savior desperate for me to know his ardent love.

What now, what to make of it. Is it over and done, forgotten? No, this pain must not heal, not until I see his face and allow it to remind me instead of pain. I must not be apathetic to his love. To forget means to discount. I must hang onto the nails. I must remember the blood and the body. I thank him for communion. That he gave the simple like me something to see, to smell, to feel, to taste. Just like a loving father - giving his child something tangible to hold onto.

I hear the dog's nails on the floor...another reminder of his grace. These nails can be trimmed and shaped. They cause no pain because the clippers take them away. Just like the Lord taking away the nails for me. I sweep them up and take care of throwing them away. The dog does not understand. I thank the Lord that he has taken care of the nails in sin holds us apart. Another moment of grace.

I accept the pain. I open my heart. I prepare to feel the joy of Mary, the disciples, Jesus, the Father....and like the pain, I prepare to share in the joy as well.


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