Throughout my entire life Jesus has been my friend. I cannot recall one solitary day in my childhood of thinking Jesus was not for me, not loving me, or not compassionate towards me. Combine that faith in Jesus with a giant creative heap of imagination and you have a version of little Rebecca who was absolutely brokenhearted by passion plays and Good Friday services. Little Rebecca grew into adult Rebecca, but my spirit was just as crushed at such services. I still haven’t seen the Passion of the Christ movie for the same reason I choose not to watch movies with excessive violence towards enslaved Black Americans. I don’t need that in my noggin. My heart is wrenched by such scenes.
I struggle every single year with what we Christians call Holy Week. I don’t like to be forced into imagining the torture of my friend and Savior Jesus. Every year I have an internal–sometimes external–argument where I tell my pretend audience that “you can’t make me repeat all of this again.” You. cannot. make. me. And just to be real clear: we’re all pretending! I mean, this already happened and now we live with a Risen Savior at the right hand of God the Father. I’ve skipped Good Friday services in order to not give in to the deeply sad feelings. Sometimes I simply do not want to cry anymore.
This year we attended a Tenebrae Service and while I did indeed cry, I also felt grateful for the physicality of the memories of Christ’s death. We used our senses to experience dark and light, to listen to mournful music, to witness the Light of Life exiting the building. And I felt camaraderie with my Savior in the depths of despair that life holds. This deep sadness? He knew it. These heartbreaking betrayals? He was there, too. My friend Jesus, the perfect man, knew the same suffering that I know, that my friends know.
Of course the story doesn’t end there. Praise God, THE STORY DOES NOT END THERE. With freedom and perfect abandon we Christians worship a Jesus who did NOT stay dead. He was the Messiah–is the Messiah, the great deliverer–and death couldn’t hold him down. He is the perfect sacrifice and scripture says he died and rose again with our names on his heart and with our sins on his shoulders. His perfect and sinless self for my broken and sinful self. Amen.
All of this believing and remembering (and even present-day pretending during Holy Week) takes faith; I will not say otherwise. I couldn’t buy into it without that leap of faith. I’m here, existing with a faith that ebbs and flows but is always present nonetheless. I’m here, with outstretched hands, receiving daily mercies and grace that come from a Father in heaven who loves me and knows me. I’m here, rejoicing in what I don’t see but what I know deep in my heart until I see our Triune God face to face in glory.
The real AFTER shots are on my Flickr account now. Tonight the neighborhood looks and feels different. Somber seems to be an appropriate word.
* I have to note that I took the BEFORE pic awhile back. Check out the centrally located tree and see how it’s grown. Also, in the past few years we painted the front doors a maroon color and some shrubbery succumbed to some shrubbery-type death. Aside from that, the front of the building remained largely the same until last Saturday morning.
The building of Zion Church, at 9th & D, is going to be demolished tomorrow around noon. See this press release for more details.
Right now I’m feeling pretty sick about all this. I haven’t written much on the blog because I’ve been working steadily on creating/adding content to the new website and taking care of tons of details related to church life. But the gist of my feelings tonight is this: I feel terrible about demolition. It’s like I’m burying an old friend or family member tomorrow at noon and right now I’m simply trying to memorize every wrinkle on his face or recall every time he did something kind for me.
The old church building feels like a friend and I keep telling this competely inanimate structure, “I’m so sorry,” as though I could’ve somehow prevented this disaster.
If I end up seeing my counselor anytime soon, I think she and I will have lots to talk about.
I jumped at the chance to capture images of Zion after the fire, but still I was fairly anxious at the thought of going on a walk through of the damaged building this morning. I’m glad I didn’t wimp out of this opportunity. I’ve updated my Zion fire Flickr set with the new shots.
Plus, check out this beautiful picture by photographer Alyssa Shukar, taken at the wedding of Andrew & Bethany Hansen. It’s a lovely, lovely view of the new couple and, important after Saturday’s fire, Zion’s foyer.
My big prayer request is this: Please pray that Livia begins to settle down and sleep at night. For an entire week now she’s been bucking it and Jeremy and I are almost completely worn out. Dealing with the church fire is more gut-wrenching and exhausting this morning simply because I haven’t slept enough. Thanks for your prayers.
I posted a set of photos on Flickr. I can’t yet bear to post a big one here. Perhaps I can do that tomorrow. I am still greatly grieved over the loss of this beautiful building where we got married and baptized Livia, where we rejoiced over many weddings and mourned at many funerals. Zion was the physical hub of our community.
The true hub remains in God’s people. A building has fallen; the Church stands strong.
Here is an email Stu sent out this afternoon. It is worth posting:
Friends of Zion,
As most of you know by now the Zion building at 9th and D was consumed by flames early this morning. The building is a total loss, but Zion remains strong and steadfast, ready to follow her Savior.
Sunday service will be held June 10 at 12 noon at St. Paul’s United Methodist Church, 12th and M Streets (downtown). We are deeply grateful for their kind offer of assistance! We have been receiving many such offers and can be truly grateful for the Body of Christ in Lincoln. Their hearts are truly with us.
As she looked on the smoltering building Verna Damm noted that it was really ‘hard to see the church in such disrepair.’ Then without skipping a beat she reminded us that ‘Jesus is still on the throne.’ It is right to grieve over the memories lost; the baptisms, the weddings, the funerals, and the fellowship hold special memories for us all. But what is most important cannot be taken away. We believe in an Amighty God and a powerful gospel of grace. God’s purpose for us has not changed at all. We are called to be transformed by Grace and poured out for others. He will be glorified. What is important will remain, what is not must be left behind.
Pastor Tobey reminded us this morning that the most horrific event in history, the crucifixion of our Lord Jesus, was the turning point of history and the key to our salvation. God is not caught off guard by tragedy, He plans it. And He will use it for His glory and our good, burning away the dross and forming the character of Christ in us.
Pray that:
Jesus would be honored in all we say and do.
We would be attentive to God’s leading, and ready to follow.
The two firefighters who were injured putting out the fire would be healed.
We would be even more focused on our mission to proclaim and live out the gospel of Grace.
That Jesus would use our tragedy to draw together the body of Christ in Lincoln.
