Dear Jesus,
I have started so many prayers that way. Like a letter to a friend. But when I say "dear" to you, I mean more...you are more dear to me than any property, more dear than my dogs, more dear than my friends new and old, more dear than the family I was born to, and more dear than the husband I have chosen to spend my life with.
So, my dear Jesus, I commemorated your death by watching a 2 hour depiction of your suffering. I honestly was looking at my watch wondering how much longer this could go on, marveling at the evil cruelty man wrought upon you...that men are willing to bring against each other. Total depravity.
And I watched these images with a group of young kids. I don't know if I would have been allowed to watch this violence at their age, but they all scoffed at the idea that they could not handle it. They had seen worse, they said, as we prepared to start the film. But the other movies they had seen had not been real, and I think they were all struck with the reality of what happened to you. They were silent for two hours simply watching.
Two of the kids in the room are the newest Christians I know. They sat with rapt attention and few words afterwards. I wondered what was going through their minds in seeing what you had done. Most of the kids said that it was not what they expected. They were used to seeing a clean, beautific Jesus image with a little blood on each palm, his feet and a bit on his side, not the total body gore we saw.
One boy said he imagined You being more peaceful about the whole thing, happy to be providing salvation to the world. I am sure the God-ness of you was, but the Human-ness, well, was being tortured. You met physical pain and limitations, just like all of us do. You are our sacrifice and our high priest.
I have started so many prayers that way. Like a letter to a friend. But when I say "dear" to you, I mean more...you are more dear to me than any property, more dear than my dogs, more dear than my friends new and old, more dear than the family I was born to, and more dear than the husband I have chosen to spend my life with.
So, my dear Jesus, I commemorated your death by watching a 2 hour depiction of your suffering. I honestly was looking at my watch wondering how much longer this could go on, marveling at the evil cruelty man wrought upon you...that men are willing to bring against each other. Total depravity.And I watched these images with a group of young kids. I don't know if I would have been allowed to watch this violence at their age, but they all scoffed at the idea that they could not handle it. They had seen worse, they said, as we prepared to start the film. But the other movies they had seen had not been real, and I think they were all struck with the reality of what happened to you. They were silent for two hours simply watching.
Two of the kids in the room are the newest Christians I know. They sat with rapt attention and few words afterwards. I wondered what was going through their minds in seeing what you had done. Most of the kids said that it was not what they expected. They were used to seeing a clean, beautific Jesus image with a little blood on each palm, his feet and a bit on his side, not the total body gore we saw.One boy said he imagined You being more peaceful about the whole thing, happy to be providing salvation to the world. I am sure the God-ness of you was, but the Human-ness, well, was being tortured. You met physical pain and limitations, just like all of us do. You are our sacrifice and our high priest.
And then, something I never caught before this viewing of the movie, you thirsted. My mind jumped back to the woman at the well, and your promise to her, "All who drink of the water I shall give them shall never thirst, for the water that I shall give them shall be a well of water springing up to eternal life." (John 4:14) You, the source of that eternal spring, suddenly burdened with all of our sin, thirsted. Oh, Jesus, the pain of that moment must have blotted out all the beatings and pain your human body experienced.So today is the dark day, the day we wait for your victory and return. Those who waited long ago did not know you would be back in three days. And we do not know either, the date of your long awaited return. But we wait and hope in a "church service" that never ends looking forward to the time that we will be with you.
Thank you for all of this, for those who do not deserve it. Now it is we who thirst for you and your return.
Love,
Your Child, CaDh 8
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1 comment:
There are a couple of tears on my cheeks right now. The combination of your words, Cadh8 and these images and the song seemed to cut right to the core of my heart and faith.
Yes, dear Jesus, son of God, have mercy on me, and let me never, never, forget. . .
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