Sometimes we just don’t see it coming, that thing that slams us into a wall.
And evil stirs dark as Palm Sunday dawns and a torrent of words mean cut deep and we bleed.
Tears like rivers flow over banks and we are drowning as we swim against the tide of taunts that tries to pull us under. Sleep disturbed and weeping remains for nights. Betrayed by one of our own.
Loveless lashing out from a precious heart sorely broken sinful — one of many through the years with cheeks turning but now a threat of physical harm demanding stronger boundaries until something changes.
Wailing, we increase our prayers for one dearly loved. Always loved. With nothing that will ever stop our love.
If you are reproached for being Christ’s followers, that is a great privilege, for you can be sure that God’s Spirit of glory is resting upon you. But take care that none of your number suffers as a murderer, or a thief, a rogue or a spy! If he suffers as a Christian he has nothing to be ashamed of and may glorify God in Christ’s name.
1 Peter 4:15-16
Ache in our heart is too great to bear until we remember the passion of Christ and Him being betrayed by one of His inner circle after breaking the bread and giving thanks.
And us called to give thanks in all things and wondering how in the midst of all this pain.
Then a second blow unexpected on Holy Thursday. Full price offer withdrawn at the point of contract on our house too long for sale. And there will be financial ramifications. And we are not sure what to do.
I beg you not to be unduly alarmed at the fiery ordeals which come to test your faith, as though this were some abnormal experience. You should be glad, because it means that you are called to share Christ’s sufferings. One day, when he shows himself in full splendor to men, you will be filled with the most tremendous joy.
1 Peter 4:12-14
We begin to feel those lashes on His back as we participate small in Christ’s suffering big. Weight of the cross we carry is a twig compared to the Man of Sorrows holding a world of sin on His shoulders sinless as he journeyed the cobbled way in chains.
We are not called to sacrifice to the point of death yet we must offer the sacrifice of praise through the slaying.
Step by step we walk out the pain while praying and praising and the sun shines warm though the air is chill, and we think of Him walking bruised from Gethsemane along the Via Doloroso with one thing on His mind.
You and me and all of us. Beloved objects of His great love.
Sunlight slipping we open a bottle of red and break the bread reading holy words.
And while they were still eating Jesus took a loaf, blessed it and broke it and gave it to them with the words, “Take this, it is my body.” Then he took a cup, and after thanking God, he gave it to them, and they drank from it, and he said to them “This is my blood which is shed for many in the new agreement. I tell you truly I will drink no more wine until the day comes when I drink it fresh in the kingdom of God!”
Dip and eat — baring our souls full of holes — in remembrance of Him.
Father forgive us — and the one who has hurt us — for we are all part of them that Christ cried out to the Father for at Calvary.
Humbled as we hush for we are the worst of sinners.
Desperate moment by moment for our Savior who keeps saving, and crying out for those who do not know. Yet.
Then they arrived at a place called Gethsemane, and Jesus said to the disciples, “Sit down here while I pray.” He took with him Peter, James and John, and began to be horror-stricken and desperately depressed. “My heart is nearly breaking,” he told them. “Stay here and keep watch for me.” Then he walked forward a little way and flung himself on the ground, praying that, if it were possible, he might not have to face the ordeal. “Dear Father,” he said, “all things are possible to you. Please—let me not have to drink this cup! Yet it is not what I want but what you want.”
All is bleak on Friday. Hearts still staggering we only see the cross.
They hit him on the head with a stick and spat at him, and then bowed low before him on bended knee. And when they had finished their fun with him, they took off the purple cloak and dressed him again in his own clothes. Then they led him outside to crucify him.
Love hung on a rugged tree, dark clouds covering and everything quaking.
At midday darkness spread over the whole countryside and lasted until three o’clock in the afternoon, and at three o’clock Jesus cried out in a loud voice, Eloi, Eloi, lama sabachthani? — My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?
Letting out a great cry He died so that we might live.
Embracing this Life we see with spirit eyes not fleshly that the fight is against unseen forces hateful, holding others captive, sent to destroy us. Powers of darkness celebrating then and now.
But Love always winning and the stone will roll away.
So we hold each other tight and He holds us tighter.
Christ in us the hope of glory.
Holding on till Sunday comes…