With every year that goes by, this specific time of year becomes more and more significant. Each Good Friday becomes more sacred than the last… something just hits differently. I find myself welling up faster for what seems to be smaller things when it comes to what Jesus endured for me.
Reading scriptures that I’ve read over and over again are highlighted differently – the insights I jot in the margin are new understandings from a more seasoned perspective. Not a perfect perspective, but one that has shifted and grown over time. A pastor that I once listened to fairly regularly often says it like this: I haven’t arrived, but I’ve left the station. I haven’t arrived, but I’m moving in the direction of my destination.
This week I celebrated the seven-year anniversary of this blog. I’ve gained new favorite scripture passages, memorized several because I read them so often, and have had my eyes opened more times than I can count to what I once misunderstood (and there’s still more that I don’t understand). But in all of it… there’s been grace.
From the beginning, my mission with this blog has been to expose God’s grace and goodness to whoever might stumble upon it. God knows who needs it – that’s not my department – I’m just called to write it. One of the biggest soapboxes that I tend to get on is focused on God’s grace even when we’re a huge mess.
It’s during those times when people are struggling that God’s love is needed most. As a control freak, it’s been tough even to try accepting that I may not be the one called to point out something that needs to be changed or try to force the change, but I may be the one called to sit with them – without judgment – while God brings His change about.
I was a drunk for years, but God was with me even in the mess. I read my Bible, went to church, listened to Christian music, and read faith-based fiction in my spare time… all while being a drunk. I was more than a mess. There were times that my husband would have a heart-to-heart with me, but he learned to let God do the heavy lifting. And that’s just it… God did what only He could do.
As I’ve been thinking about this, the beginning of the blog that came just 4 months after God broke the chains of addiction, I can’t help but think back to the moment the chains were shattered. And I can’t help but imagine that Jesus had been sitting with me as I sobbed.
The shortest verse in the Bible was recently brought up during a group discussion at church – Jesus wept. (John 11:35). Most people assume this verse inclusion is to show that Jesus was fully human; this verse proves that He understands our hurts. While I do see that and agree, I think it’s a bit more. So, let’s set the stage.
Jesus had some really good friends that He loved very much – Martha, Mary, and Lazarus (they were siblings). Lazarus got really sick, so his sisters sent word to Jesus because they knew He could heal their brother. Jesus heard the news, but He didn’t rush to heal Lazarus. Take a minute to read about Lazarus for yourself in John 11:1-44.
When Jesus decides to go see Martha, Mary, and Lazarus, He already knows that Lazarus has died. When Jesus finally gets close to where they live, Martha went out to meet Him – Mary stayed in the house for a bit longer. If you’ve ever experienced loss, I bet you’ve had these same thoughts: Lord, if you’d been here, this wouldn’t have happened… If you had been here… My heart has cried those words on a number of occasions, and both Martha and Mary said similar to Jesus.
I remember the struggle with alcohol, crying out to God in the hurt. God, if You had just been there back in high school… if You had just kept me safe back then… Do I think all the pain I went through was God’s doing? Absolutely not. I alone made the choices that led me deeper into addiction. But I do believe that God can use the pain that the fallen world we occupy gives us and use it for His glory if we allow Him to.
But why would Jesus weep when He knew before even going there that Lazarus would live? Sure, He understands our pain. Sure, this is added proof that He was fully human. But again… He was a breath away from calling Lazarus back to life! Everyone around Him is crying. Jesus didn’t turn to them – to Martha and Mary – and tell them to calm their mess. He doesn’t tell them to chill out because He’s about to fix it.
He weeps.
He knows the victory is coming, but He weeps. If ever you’ve wondered what the heart of the Father is like, this is it. He doesn’t try to explain away our feelings, He doesn’t stay at a distance, and He doesn’t detach from us when we’re low. He’s there with us in the sorrow. He enters the pain before He redeems it.
When He broke the chains of addiction for me, He didn’t wag His finger or give me a list of things I needed to accomplish before I could experience freedom. No, He wept with me… and then He freed me.
Martha identified Jesus as the Son of God, the Messiah, and believed that God would give Jesus whatever He asked for (John 11:22,27). Mary fell at His feet and said, Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died (John 11:32). Neither one of these responses qualified or disqualified them from the coming victory. That’s the heart of the Father.
Whether we understand it or not, the victory is there. Whether we are still shaking our fist at God because we think He should have done something different, the victory has already been won. And He’s extending that victory to each and every one of us no matter what we’ve done or will do. God doesn’t avoid the pain and suffering on the way to obtaining the victory.
This year, as I read about the agony Jesus knew was coming as He prayed before His arrest… as I read about Jesus being beat, whipped, and spat on… as the crown of thorns was shoved on His head, drawing blood with their punctures… the nails piercing His hands and feet… I have so much gratitude.
I’m so thankful for Jesus taking time to weep. I’m so thankful that He took time with me, empathizing, before providing me with the victory.