I slid in next to him, he in his "spot" a few pews back from the front on the far right-hand side next to the choir loft. My sister and her family beside me inside the quiet, darkened sanctuary. There were 26 of us - many family by blood or marriage, all there as part of God's family - a small, gathering to hear the story of Good Friday...a story of love, fear, friendship, betrayal, persecution, death and...trust. I read the words I was handed and took the time to really hear the story as it surrounded me...the emphasis different this time for some reason. The story is the same - I know it by heart, am always saddened by the ending yet never really took in the other aspects. See, I love thinking of Christ as human. I love imagining Him as a man, the Son of God, yes, but a man - nothing more, nothing less. I like to think that He walked here just as we do and in so doing, experienced all the raw emotions that I feel - many of which I've felt over the past week. I have always been drawn to the time when Jesus was in the garden praying...begging out of fear for God to change His path, to save Him from what was to come. His friends, the disciples, couldn't stay awake to stand guard for Him and His frustration was visible, yet He kept going back and asking for...what? Strength? To live? I have spent time on my knees, asking God to take something awful from me...I have cried and begged for it to get better, or to have some sense of understanding. While I've never gotten an immediate response, the answer...the strength, the reassurance, the whatever it is I'm needing always comes...when I'm ready to receive it.
My uncle read words that hit home with me...absolute inclusivity. As in, Jesus practiced "absolute inclusivity" - He never judged, never left anyone out, loved everyone equally...even in His final hours on the cross when one of the others sentenced to death asked to be remembered when He entered heaven "Truly I tell you, today you will be with me in paradise" (Luke 23:43). Jesus didn't know this man, this sinner, yet He welcomed him at His table with His (yours, mine, our) Father. I am always struck by His ability to have such kind words for a stranger while experiencing so much pain. Yet, it gives me hope to think that if He was able to give that much to a stranger hanging on a cross, maybe He is holding a place for me.
Last night was emotional for me...I tried to keep it together, but found myself holding back tears on more than one occasion. After the service was over, I sat in her seat in the choir loft and then Colin and I sat at the huge pipe organ, making huge sounds come out of the beautiful old instrument that has always been a symbol of church to me. I felt empty in some ways...was missing people who I wished so much had been next to me. I don't think I will ever understand how you can have people on either side of you and still feel lonely...or, rather, alone. I'm trying hard to trust His plan...to give myself over to whatever it is He has for me instead of forcing my wants, my thoughts, my idea of a plan.
My uncle read words that hit home with me...absolute inclusivity. As in, Jesus practiced "absolute inclusivity" - He never judged, never left anyone out, loved everyone equally...even in His final hours on the cross when one of the others sentenced to death asked to be remembered when He entered heaven "Truly I tell you, today you will be with me in paradise" (Luke 23:43). Jesus didn't know this man, this sinner, yet He welcomed him at His table with His (yours, mine, our) Father. I am always struck by His ability to have such kind words for a stranger while experiencing so much pain. Yet, it gives me hope to think that if He was able to give that much to a stranger hanging on a cross, maybe He is holding a place for me.
Last night was emotional for me...I tried to keep it together, but found myself holding back tears on more than one occasion. After the service was over, I sat in her seat in the choir loft and then Colin and I sat at the huge pipe organ, making huge sounds come out of the beautiful old instrument that has always been a symbol of church to me. I felt empty in some ways...was missing people who I wished so much had been next to me. I don't think I will ever understand how you can have people on either side of you and still feel lonely...or, rather, alone. I'm trying hard to trust His plan...to give myself over to whatever it is He has for me instead of forcing my wants, my thoughts, my idea of a plan.
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