How can things
ever be the same again?
On Friday,
we watch That Man
in agony upon the cross
struggling to breath,
bleeding,
torn,
naked,
humiliated,
suffering a punishment
that the Romans has designed
specifically
to be the worst execution
imaginable.
We watch
as His holy heart
gives out under the trauma
and He breathes His last
with that one last cry.
A cry of triumph!
A cry of triumph?
"IT IS FINISHED!"
[PAUSE]
It is finished.
He cries out
not of His life
but of the power of death.
He bursts through Death's door
and having broken it open,
jumps through it,
plummeting into the darkness
but bringing,
with His human nature,
the Eternal Light of Divinity.
And all we see
is His dead body,
the last drops
of His precious blood
dripping from His side
onto the ground.
For us,
there are tears, weeping,
confusion, despair.
How can things
ever be the same again?
[PAUSE]
A broken heart,
crying bitterly in the garden,
remembers
all the gruesome agonies
inflicted on the One
Whose crime was to love,
not carnally,
not condescendingly,
not possessively.
His one crime
- to love so much
that death upon the cross
would not hold Him back
from telling the truth
that you matter.
You matter enough
not only to be created
not only to be valued
but enough to be saved
from the darkness within you
and brought face to face
with your creator in Eternity.
And for this
His body is bruised
and abused
and torn and pierced.
And for this
the broken heart cries
in the garden
by the empty tomb.
[PAUSE]
"Mary."
It's the mention of her name
that brings her to her senses.
Just as her name was spoken
before the world began
to bring her into being,
so her name again brings her
into being once more
brings her back to the feet
of the One Who died for Love.
"My teacher!"
To see Him alive before her
what joy!
What joy indeed
but what confusion.
Friday happened.
The agony happened.
The crucifixion happened.
There in His hands.
There in His feet.
There in His side.
There is still the crucifixion.
It is not taken away.
not undone,
not nullified.
How can Mary begin
to process this?
And yet,
all she sees
is Him alive
so much more alive
than she has ever seen Him.
If crucifixion cannot break Him,
then what can?
But the crucifixion happened
and
in His hands, feet and side,
that crucifixion will not be erased
for they are proof of love,
badges of honour,
commitment to all those
who suffer agony in life.
While He bears His wounds
we see our own wounds
inflicted upon us
by the Darkness that
wants to possess us
but cannot.
For while we suffer
the trauma of living
and place all that trauma
into the wounds of Christ,
we reject any claim
that the Devil makes
on our lives.
We live,
each one of us
with the agonies
that Life inflicts on us
that others inflict on us
that we inflict on ourselves,
and,
intermingled with those agonise
there is the Resurrected Lord.
Joy in the midst of pain.
Not happiness,
because happiness
is a thing of chance
and Earthly expectation.
But Joy
- the knowledge that with our death
our suffering is given meaning
and worth.
Because we bear our cross
with Him
to the bitter end,
unlike Judas,
we shall be raised
with Him.
In trauma there is Joy,
for trauma ends with
the the shout of triumph
"IT IS FINISHED!"
before Death itself
is broken to pieces.
How can things
ever be the same again?
No comments:
Post a Comment