On Friday night, under a cloudy sky, I limped on my husband’s arm the half block to our church’s Tenebrae Service. The service is focused on the last hours of Christ’s life; music, scripture and lighting are interwoven to allow reflection on this, the day Christ died. You leave the worship hall in complete darkness and silence — the foyer lights are almost blinding in comparison and the usual chatty, friendly conversation is stifled and voices hushed.
Outside the gray clouds opened up and we tripped along home where I spent ten minutes sobbing out the emotional pain of the death of my man-God and the physical pain of my swollen, disjointed feet. These feelings had been brewing all day and their release was the key to an enjoyable evening. Though I’d love to claim that my sorrow was greater for the burdens Christ bore on the cross, I know the truth is that I felt more sorry for myself. And there’s the reality I live in daily… I need the cross desperately.
But the cross by itself is just an instrument of torturous death employed by the Romans. It means nothing without the resurrection of Jesus…
Today that beautiful, life-giving, joyous resurrection was celebrated. All morning long the resurrection greeting echoed through my ears: He is risen! He is risen indeed! We have a Savior who, by his own death and resurrection, has defeated the last enemy, Death, and provides a way for the rest of us to spend eternity with him. If you’ve got everything then you don’t need this Savior, but I can testify that I long for days of dancing on golden streets with a new healthy body, free from my immune system that for some unknown reason is methodically attacking itself. Heaven beckons to me, reminds me that though my Grandma is in ashes in a grave, she will again be whole and reunited with me one day. Then the pains and sufferings of this world will be gone and there will only be absolute and complete joy in the presence of our Almighty God.
Because of Good Friday, because of the resurrection, I can anticipate tomorrow.
2 Comments
andrew Apr 11, 2004 10:38 PM
-how hard it is for the rich man to enter the kingdom of heaven.-
in a manner of speaking, your quest is easier than it is for others. though it is a damned curse to be in so much pain, you don’t need to humble youself as much as the healthy man, who finds little desire to cling to the cross.
i look forward to the day when pain and sufferings will be gone, too.
Liz Apr 12, 2004 1:53 PM
That’s a good point. I know nothing of what you suffer, but I recognize that so often our own limitations and hardships drive us to a point where we deeply yearn to be reunited with Christ. What I was struck with this Easter is the truth that He is alive and living at this very moment! Christ is not just the God-man who lived two thousand years ago. He exists and has his being at the very moment that we have ours.