Loving the God of Good Friday
Walking through Holy Week is such a mystery, but it is profoundly powerful to meditate on the significance of this week that takes us to the cross. The world feels like Good Friday on repeat to me right now - I literally cringe when I get a news update on my phone for fear of what fresh tragedy it will bring to my attention. Is this what it felt like to be a disciple or citizen in the town of Jerusalem when Jesus was tried and crucified? Is this how the women felt as they knelt at the feet of their Savior, perhaps echoing Jesus' cries of "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?" Is this what it felt like when the veil tore from Heaven to Earth and the world went dark?
These are the questions that spin around in my head as I walk through this Holy Week. These are the questions that lead to more questions for me to consider. It is easy to love the God of Easter, but do I also love the God of Good Friday?
Deep in my soul, the answer is yes, or at least yes, I want to. Loving the God of Good Friday is a process, a daily commitment, and a task which requires me to pray for God to "help my unbelief." Good Friday is hard and scary when we really confront the full weight of Christ dying for our brokenness, taking on the sins of the world to restore a right relationship with God. All the mini-crucifixions that are happening in our world are a gut-wrenching reminder of the significance of Holy Week. And in the midst of all this death, pain, and tragedy, there is waiting. We must wait in the tenuous space between death and life as we await resurrection.
I am awaiting resurrection. I am waiting for God to restore hurts that burden me like weights on my chest. I am waiting to fully feel the pain and grief with the hopes that that will lead me to the release of healing. I am waiting to be able to forgive myself and actually let myself be human. I am waiting to internalize the gift of grace that I already have in a real way. I don't know when Easter dawn will break on all this pain trapped inside the tomb inside my heart and mind. But I do know that when it does, I will shout praises of Hallelujahs.
Right before the New Year, my Nana died of hypothermia after leaving her home in what I can only pray was her desire to have a peaceful death on her own terms. I went and visited my Poppie at their house, seeing the empty rocking chair where she would always quietly sit. She wasn't there, filling that seat, but somehow it didn't feel real that she was actually gone. After some of that transition settled, my dad got a call from my Aunt, informing us that Poppie was going to the hospital after he experienced a mini-stroke. I rode with my parents to the hospital, made small-talk, listened to his feeling that my Nana was calling him to come join her. I did - I showed up, I talked, but still, none of it felt real. I came back for my final semester of seminary, still waiting to hear the results of Poppie's tests and scans. I got the call that he had stage 4 melanoma in his lungs and brain, that he wasn't going to pursue treatment, that he was selling their house and moving in to assisted living. I knew these things were happening, but it felt like some sad illusion that I desperately wanted not to be true. On April Fools Day I saw an old adult camper from CCC post that her daughter who was also my camper had died in a tragic car accident. I saw it and desperately wanted it to be some morbid, twisted April fools joke, but it wasn't. Paige Neubauer is one of the friendliest, most loving, generous people I have ever met, and she radiated a joy and vitality that just made you smile. I watched as countless rest in peace posts scrolled through my facebook timeline, and still, it didn't feel fully real.
These pains are lodged in my heart like boulders pressing on my soul. They are with me, but in some ways, I have built up walls to try to keep them away, pretending that they are not real. Or at least trying to pretend. Maybe I haven't let myself fully feel them because I am still sitting in Good Friday and Holy Saturday. And perhaps I am stuck in that liminal space because I don't know what to do with these feelings. I don't know what to do with the fact that I still feel guilty for not going to see my Nana before Thanksgiving, what would have been my last chance to see her in person and tell her I love her. I don't know what to do with the guilt I feel for living several states away from my Poppie, and knowing that that means my chances to see him might be limited. I don't know what to do with the reality that our lives are so freaking fragile and can radically change in an instant.
I don't know, I don't know, I don't know.
But maybe the answer is hidden in all these questions rattling around inside my brain...
What I need isn't more self-care or something I can do. I need God. I need grace. I need resurrection. I need to stop relying on myself to "fix" these things that don't have simple solutions or easy answers. I need to wait and trust that death brings resurrection. I need to, but it is hard. So, this Holy Week, I am looking for solace in the church walking together through the thickness of Good Friday and Holy Saturday, holding each other close as we figure out anew what this journey to the cross means for us.
It's Holy Week y'all. Here's to trying to learn anew how to love the God of Good Friday and Holy Saturday, even as we find ourselves still waiting for resurrection.
God, I believe resurrection is coming, help my unbelief.
These are the questions that spin around in my head as I walk through this Holy Week. These are the questions that lead to more questions for me to consider. It is easy to love the God of Easter, but do I also love the God of Good Friday?
Deep in my soul, the answer is yes, or at least yes, I want to. Loving the God of Good Friday is a process, a daily commitment, and a task which requires me to pray for God to "help my unbelief." Good Friday is hard and scary when we really confront the full weight of Christ dying for our brokenness, taking on the sins of the world to restore a right relationship with God. All the mini-crucifixions that are happening in our world are a gut-wrenching reminder of the significance of Holy Week. And in the midst of all this death, pain, and tragedy, there is waiting. We must wait in the tenuous space between death and life as we await resurrection.
I am awaiting resurrection. I am waiting for God to restore hurts that burden me like weights on my chest. I am waiting to fully feel the pain and grief with the hopes that that will lead me to the release of healing. I am waiting to be able to forgive myself and actually let myself be human. I am waiting to internalize the gift of grace that I already have in a real way. I don't know when Easter dawn will break on all this pain trapped inside the tomb inside my heart and mind. But I do know that when it does, I will shout praises of Hallelujahs.
Right before the New Year, my Nana died of hypothermia after leaving her home in what I can only pray was her desire to have a peaceful death on her own terms. I went and visited my Poppie at their house, seeing the empty rocking chair where she would always quietly sit. She wasn't there, filling that seat, but somehow it didn't feel real that she was actually gone. After some of that transition settled, my dad got a call from my Aunt, informing us that Poppie was going to the hospital after he experienced a mini-stroke. I rode with my parents to the hospital, made small-talk, listened to his feeling that my Nana was calling him to come join her. I did - I showed up, I talked, but still, none of it felt real. I came back for my final semester of seminary, still waiting to hear the results of Poppie's tests and scans. I got the call that he had stage 4 melanoma in his lungs and brain, that he wasn't going to pursue treatment, that he was selling their house and moving in to assisted living. I knew these things were happening, but it felt like some sad illusion that I desperately wanted not to be true. On April Fools Day I saw an old adult camper from CCC post that her daughter who was also my camper had died in a tragic car accident. I saw it and desperately wanted it to be some morbid, twisted April fools joke, but it wasn't. Paige Neubauer is one of the friendliest, most loving, generous people I have ever met, and she radiated a joy and vitality that just made you smile. I watched as countless rest in peace posts scrolled through my facebook timeline, and still, it didn't feel fully real.
These pains are lodged in my heart like boulders pressing on my soul. They are with me, but in some ways, I have built up walls to try to keep them away, pretending that they are not real. Or at least trying to pretend. Maybe I haven't let myself fully feel them because I am still sitting in Good Friday and Holy Saturday. And perhaps I am stuck in that liminal space because I don't know what to do with these feelings. I don't know what to do with the fact that I still feel guilty for not going to see my Nana before Thanksgiving, what would have been my last chance to see her in person and tell her I love her. I don't know what to do with the guilt I feel for living several states away from my Poppie, and knowing that that means my chances to see him might be limited. I don't know what to do with the reality that our lives are so freaking fragile and can radically change in an instant.
I don't know, I don't know, I don't know.
But maybe the answer is hidden in all these questions rattling around inside my brain...
"I don't know what I can do..."
What I need isn't more self-care or something I can do. I need God. I need grace. I need resurrection. I need to stop relying on myself to "fix" these things that don't have simple solutions or easy answers. I need to wait and trust that death brings resurrection. I need to, but it is hard. So, this Holy Week, I am looking for solace in the church walking together through the thickness of Good Friday and Holy Saturday, holding each other close as we figure out anew what this journey to the cross means for us.
It's Holy Week y'all. Here's to trying to learn anew how to love the God of Good Friday and Holy Saturday, even as we find ourselves still waiting for resurrection.
God, I believe resurrection is coming, help my unbelief.
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