risen

What was it like in that dark tomb Jesus?  What exactly happened when light suddenly broke into the darkness and brought you to life once again?  Did the mouth of God come down from heaven and breathe the breath of life into your lifeless body?  Or did He reach down with His life-giving hands and brush the death from you as one would wipe sleep from the eyes of a child?  Or was it like a  Father tenderly bending down over his sleeping child to plant a gentle kiss upon his forehead?  Perhaps it was more like an earthquake; a sudden jolt of power and life that hit you like a lightning bolt from on high, raising you suddenly to life once more.  And were there any words uttered in that silent grave?  Words that you had the privilege of hearing, but that we will never know about because they were words meant only for your ears: arise, my love, or wake up sleepy head or My Child, I've missed you so much!  And what was it like when the grave clothes were removed?  And who exactly did that?  Was it the angels that were present the next morning; sent by the Father to unbind His Beloved Son?  And why exactly did they fold them and stack them so neatly?  I'll bet they were smiling from ear to ear.  And O what a reunion it must have been, the Three-in-One becoming Three and becoming One once again! What was that like?  What was it like when you and the Father, and the Spirit, were reunited.  What were the looks on your faces?  What was going on in your hearts?  What a dance that must've been!  A dance we are now invited to join.  O the joy, joy unspeakable.  Let our imaginations run wild on this Easter day, as we dream about, and celebrate, the day our beloved Jesus, was raised to life again! 

good friday

the loneliness
and the pain
external and internal
physical and spiritual
are hard to watch
hard to sit with you
in the midst of
my dear jesus

and the voices
so many voices
all around
mocking
insulting
hurling

and then yours
my God, my God
the only time
you didn't say
my Father
my Abba

handed over
pierced and crushed
poured out like water
bones out of joint
heart turned to wax
melted within you

encircled by bulls
torn to pieces
by roaring lions
are they the ones
i can see
what about the ones
i cannot see
are they not
worst of all

you became sin
bore our darkness
carried our sorrows
how extraordinarily heavy
that weight must have been
the physical is horrific
but the spiritual unimaginable
what you endured
for us

thank you
seems far
too small





We have to be willing to acknowledge and expose our wounds to the healing balm that flows from the pierced hands and feet and side.  We need humbly and gratefully to accept this healing, with a gratitude that impels us to seek to sin no more.  Then our looking upon him who has been pierced will be for us a saving glance. (Seeking His Mind by M. Basil Pennington)

for us and by us

Before we can begin to see the cross as something done for us, we have to see it as something done by us.”

                                                                                      ~John R. W. Stott

Take this to heart and doubt not that you are the one who killed Christ.  Your sins certainly did, and when you see the nails driven through his hands, be sure that you are pounding, and when the thorns pierce his brow, know that they are your evil thoughts.  Consider that if one thorn pierced Christ you deserve a hundred thousand.

                                                                                     ~Martin Luther

My friend Ray sent me this picture today, along with the quote by John Stott.  The picture is called "Raising of the Cross" by Rembrandt.  The interesting thing about the painting is not so much that Rembrandt painted himself in the picture (identifying himself by the light around him), he did that quite often.  The interesting thing is what he is doing in the painting.  He is the one raising the cross.  What a realization!  The same realization that Martin Luther and John Stott and many others throughout the centuries have made as well.  I am the one that crucified Jesus.  So as the next few days and hours unfold, as difficult as they might be, they are made more so by the fact that we (you and I) made it all necessary in the first place.  Which is not so much meant to heap hot coals upon our heads, but to help us realize the full depths of the unfailing, extravagant love of Jesus.

lift up thy bleeding hand

palm sunday 2013

riding in
to jerusalem
with jesus
stopping to weep
over a city
that has forgotten
who it is

what lies ahead
on this journey
to the cross
sorrow and sadness
suffering and pain
crucifixion
death
burial
resurrection

asking myself
what needs to die
with him
what must be nailed
to his cross

all that is false
the passing self
who by its constant
inner commentary
continuously proves
that it is still
very much alive
within me
and must be
put to death

come
ride with me
is his invitation
come
to jerusalem
come
die with me
that you might
be raised
anew

here we go

They were on their way up to Jerusalem, with Jesus leading the way, and the disciples were astonished, while those who followed were afraid. Again he took the Twelve aside and told them what was going to happen to him.  “We are going up to Jerusalem,” he said, “and the Son of Man will be delivered over to the chief priests and the teachers of the law. They will condemn him to death and will hand him over to the Gentiles, who will mock him and spit on him, flog him and kill him. Three days later he will rise.” (Mark 10:32-34)


Tonight we prepare for the trip to Jerusalem.  And Jesus wants to be sure that we make no mistake about it, the purpose of our journey is the cross.  Tomorrow He will invite us to join Him upon the donkey's back and begin our ride.  What is it that we are being invited to put to death?  What is it within us that must be crucified with Him?  What is it that Jesus is asking of us?  What does He desire for us to nail to the cross with Him; that we might live anew?


You told yourself you would accept the decision of fate.  But you lost your nerve when you discovered what it would require of you: then you realized how attached you still were to the world which has made you what you were, but which you would now have to leave behind.  It felt like an amputation, a “little death,” and you even listened to those voices which insinuated that you were deceiving yourself out of ambition.  You will have to give up everything.  Why, then, weep at this little death?  Take it to you—quickly—with a smile die this death, and become free to go further—one with your task, whole in your duty of the moment. (Markings by Dag Hammarskjold)

becoming, part 2

Thank you, O God, that spring always follows winter, that Easter always follows Good Friday, that resurrection always follows death!!!  We thank you that death does not have the final word; life does.  We praise you, O God of life!!!