this week it was holy week. holy week is one of those things i love to have the privilege to teach my little 7th graders every fall in Confirmation... complete with the fun fact that it's called 'maundy thursday', not 'monday thursday'. (picture 35 12-year-olds going 'ohhhhhhhhhhhhh...' with faces of wonderment at my extensive knowledge. HA)
anyway. holy week is one of those crazy paradoxes of faith for me, because it's filled with the worst and best things that ever happened to Jesus. he spends the entire week surprising us and doing exactly what he's not supposed to do. like palm sunday. everyone expected him to come into the city and stage some kind of military takeover, because that's what the messiah was supposed to do, right? wrong. he took over, all right, but it wasn't the way anybody expected.
i kind of wish that every day in holy week had its own label. i love being able to ponder the different aspects of our faith in every week. every year, i'm overwhelmed with the emotions of each day of holy week, and i love that. it's like in the smallest way possible, i am experiencing what the disciples experienced that week. and honestly, i think that's the point.
moving on to what we formerly knew as monday thursday... one thing i learned when i started teaching Confirmation is that 'maundy' means 'command'. that one took me a second. because maundy thursday is the day when Jesus really serves the disciples, and also the day it all falls apart. on maundy thursday i feel like i can't breathe, because i know what's coming and i can't stop it. as i read the story of the last supper, i get to turn the page and see what happens next. but i can't help but feel like the disciples felt... confused and panic stricken at what Jesus told them. "what do you mean someone will betray you? who is it? why are you washing our feet? i would never deny you!" so why is this the 'command' day? i think it's pretty clear what we are commanded to do. serve each other, and remember Him.
good friday is so bittersweet. without it, nothing would be the same, but oh, how i wish it didn't have to happen. and while we should always live in the knowledge of what happened that day, this is the one day of the year we truly must look at the cross. you can't get away with glossing over the reality. it happened. he died. it was awful. it was for me.
i think a lot about the cross on good friday. most of the time, when we see crosses, they are pretty, shiny, diamond-encrusted crosses around people's necks. do you know that thing killed Him? do you know that it's not really pretty? do you know what happened there? does it help you remember? or does it become just another picture that you see over and over but you never REALLY see?
i don't think it's bad to wear a fancy cross. we have a wall of our house decorated with crosses of all colors and sizes. but i don't think the cross is the best symbol of our faith. because anyone can die. we hear stories all the time of people giving their lives to save others. and that is an amazing, unbelievable gift. for someone to give their very life for you-- there is no way to repay that or to thank them. i think about soldiers and firefighters and everyday people who turn into heroes when they give that gift they can't get back. it is more than anyone could ever ask for, and more than anyone could ever deserve.
and that IS what Jesus did for us. he knew that we all sin. he knew that our choices take us away from the God who loved us so much that he created us, created a beautiful world for us, and sustains us in this world in every moment. he knew that something had to be done-- that a bridge had to be built between us and God and we couldn't do it ourselves. so he stepped in and allowed humans to arrest him in the garden, try him illegally, deny knowing him on the street, force the Roman governor to sentence him to death, cheer and chant for his crucifixion, beat him, taunt him, and nail him to a cross. and he died. this man who said he was the Son of God, who died because he said he was the Son of God... he died. he was gone. hope was gone.
but if the cross was the end of the story, there would BE no story. if the cross was it, no one would have followed Jesus any more. they would have been ridiculed if they tried to preach his gospel after he was gone. and they knew that, which is why on holy saturday, they all hid and mourned and i'm sure questioned their entire lives up to that moment. they were focused on the cross, and it wasn't pretty.
thank God -- literally, THANK GOD -- that the cross isn't the end of the story. because on sunday morning, when they had (at least partially) accepted that he was gone, and they went to his grave to mourn him, he was gone. can you believe that? his tomb was empty. he was not in the tomb. he was not dead. he was there, talking with them, teaching them, once again telling them what to do next. when i think about Easter, most often i think about the soldiers guarding the tomb. can you imagine being them? thinking they were guarding the tomb of some crackpot crazy guy who claimed to be God? their superiors told them to watch and guard carefully, for they were worried that Jesus' followers would try to steal the body and stage it like he had risen. so can you imagine what they felt when they saw that he really, truly DID rise? oh Jesus, you were changing lives in an instant even then.
so today-- wear a cross, hang it on your wall, look at it in church-- but please, please remember that the story did not end there. the cross, the grave, and death were all too small to hold Him. His love for you was bigger than those things that we consider absolutely final. He is worthy of our praise, our devotion, our obedience, and our lives. what would it mean for you to follow Him today? will you let Him into your life, to bring the hope that comes with the miracle of new life?
i don't think it's bad to wear a fancy cross. we have a wall of our house decorated with crosses of all colors and sizes. but i don't think the cross is the best symbol of our faith. because anyone can die. we hear stories all the time of people giving their lives to save others. and that is an amazing, unbelievable gift. for someone to give their very life for you-- there is no way to repay that or to thank them. i think about soldiers and firefighters and everyday people who turn into heroes when they give that gift they can't get back. it is more than anyone could ever ask for, and more than anyone could ever deserve.
and that IS what Jesus did for us. he knew that we all sin. he knew that our choices take us away from the God who loved us so much that he created us, created a beautiful world for us, and sustains us in this world in every moment. he knew that something had to be done-- that a bridge had to be built between us and God and we couldn't do it ourselves. so he stepped in and allowed humans to arrest him in the garden, try him illegally, deny knowing him on the street, force the Roman governor to sentence him to death, cheer and chant for his crucifixion, beat him, taunt him, and nail him to a cross. and he died. this man who said he was the Son of God, who died because he said he was the Son of God... he died. he was gone. hope was gone.
but if the cross was the end of the story, there would BE no story. if the cross was it, no one would have followed Jesus any more. they would have been ridiculed if they tried to preach his gospel after he was gone. and they knew that, which is why on holy saturday, they all hid and mourned and i'm sure questioned their entire lives up to that moment. they were focused on the cross, and it wasn't pretty.
thank God -- literally, THANK GOD -- that the cross isn't the end of the story. because on sunday morning, when they had (at least partially) accepted that he was gone, and they went to his grave to mourn him, he was gone. can you believe that? his tomb was empty. he was not in the tomb. he was not dead. he was there, talking with them, teaching them, once again telling them what to do next. when i think about Easter, most often i think about the soldiers guarding the tomb. can you imagine being them? thinking they were guarding the tomb of some crackpot crazy guy who claimed to be God? their superiors told them to watch and guard carefully, for they were worried that Jesus' followers would try to steal the body and stage it like he had risen. so can you imagine what they felt when they saw that he really, truly DID rise? oh Jesus, you were changing lives in an instant even then.
so today-- wear a cross, hang it on your wall, look at it in church-- but please, please remember that the story did not end there. the cross, the grave, and death were all too small to hold Him. His love for you was bigger than those things that we consider absolutely final. He is worthy of our praise, our devotion, our obedience, and our lives. what would it mean for you to follow Him today? will you let Him into your life, to bring the hope that comes with the miracle of new life?
"the One who died for us—who was raised to life for us!—is in the presence of God at this very moment sticking up for us. do you think anyone is going to be able to drive a wedge between us and Christ's love for us? there is no way! not trouble, not hard times, not hatred, not hunger, not homelessness, not bullying threats, not backstabbing, not even the worst sins listed in Scripture... none of this fazes us because Jesus loves us. i'm absolutely convinced that nothing—nothing living or dead, angelic or demonic, today or tomorrow, high or low, thinkable or unthinkable—absolutely nothing can get between us and God's love because of the way that Jesus our Master has embraced us." ~ romans 8:36-40
