Justin - today |
In our
house, the Friday before Easter isn't called Good Friday – in our house, it’s
Bad Friday.
Seven
years ago, I was a seminary student serving Apple River United Methodist Church
near Galena, Illinois. Our youngest, Justin,
was playing tag in the park when a friend threw a stick at him that tore open
the side of his mouth. I heard his screams and raced to find my 8-year-old
son. We met on the front steps, and he
was bloodied and tears were streaming down his face.
We drove
the 6 miles to Doc Cleary’s office in record time, but he said there wasn't
anything he could do other than numb him up and send us on to a plastic surgeon
30 some miles away.
Justin's
one request was that he be put to sleep while the doctor stitched him up, but
the doctor explained he couldn’t do so in his office. Justin agreed to stay
awake. We cried silently through the 45
minutes and over 30 stitches it took to put his mouth and cheek back together.
We
returned home exhausted. It was then
that I thought about the community Good Friday service. I had just spent the day with MY son, MY
precious son as he bled and screamed out in pain. I didn’t think I could keep
it together enough to talk about another mother bearing witness to the brutal
torture and crucifixion of her precious son, Jesus.
The
congregation was very understanding as I stayed home. The next day, I struggled to make sense of it
all as I put the finishing touches on my Easter sermon. The words that
had brought joy and hope to me in the past rang hollow. Justin would be
scarred for life because of this, he was unable to eat, his face was swollen
and he still cried out in pain. How is this fair?
Somehow,
by the grace of God, we made it through the Easter Sunday Service.
As I
tried to focus on the work that I had ahead of me, I realized that I was in a
deep funk. I emailed my professors to
request an extension on some course work.
One of my professors, Dr. Les Longden, then taught me an important
lesson. He wrote back; 'Deb, sometimes
we need to spend more time in the tomb.
And that’s ok.'
It would
have been within God's power to resurrect Jesus any time after his death on the
cross. But the time spent in the tomb was not in vain. It was the
Sabbath, the 7th day of creation, the day of rest. Christ's resurrection
on Easter Sunday signified the ushering in of the New Creation. Because
of the life, death, resurrection and ascension of Jesus and the outpouring of
the Holy Spirit at Pentecost we are all new creations!
Some of
us are ready to embrace this gift now.
Some of us need some more time in the tomb before we are able to say
with peace, hope, and joy - Christ is Risen! Christ is Risen, indeed!
Until
then, time in the tomb is not wasted time - it is time to work things out by
the grace of God. Regardless of our Bad Fridays (or Mondays, Tuesdays,
Wednesdays…) Jesus promises to always, always, always be with us. Always.
As we
approach Holy Week it is my prayer that you are richly blessed by the worship
experiences that are offered in our various faith communities. I hope that you will lean into the telling of
the story, our Story; that unfolds from Palm Sunday to Maundy Thursday, Good
Friday, Holy Saturday and triumphantly Easter Sunday morning.
And if
you need some more time in the tomb I pray that you don't try to go it
alone...I pray that you have a brother or sister in Christ to be present with
you to remind you that God is ALWAYS present even on bad Friday.
“I’ve
said these things to you so that you will have peace in me. In the world you
have distress. But be encouraged! I have conquered the world.” (The words of
Jesus. John 16:33)
Our lives consist of our moments and oftentimes those are heart-breaking moments. Heartbreaking, even though we know the "rest of the story." A friend and member of our church shared his "bad anniversary" remembrance during our joys and concerns last week--the memories of a horrible accident involved a brain injury which had forever-on-this-earth consequences. And yet, as he said, "I'm here. And life is good." My kids and I will always remember the last day of school as a "bad anniversary"--it was the day their mom died--it will be five years ago this year. These sorts of memories touch our hearts when things turn out OK and when they don't. Either way it's a struggle to understand the promise, "all things work together for good." Whatever that means, it doesn't mean that all things are rosy all the time. Maybe, at its deepest level, it means that God redeems us from suffering through his own suffering. "Instead of explaining our suffering God shares it" (Nicholas Wolterstorff). Thanks for sharing your story. Peace of Christ.
ReplyDeletethank you, Randy, for sharing your story. It is indeed often hard to see Good in the midst of darkness and loss.
ReplyDeletePeace of Christ to you and yours as well.