Too much...

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Palm Sunday was a difficult day. I ran sound at church and it was good.  I enjoyed the worship and was happy and thankful for the knowledge of the love of God.  The preacher did a good job of presenting the need for the cross and the crucifixion of Jesus to pay for our sins.  A missionary talked with passion about his time in the another country and his love for the people and his calling there.  Three different short term mission trips that will be happening this year were announced to the congregation.  I wondered how I would be involved.

It was good and I was encouraged.  Later, it felt like... Next. Next. Next. 

That evening, I was late but I went to hear a medical doctor at another church do a talk entitled  "Autopsy of the Cross".  He was detailing, from a forensic, medical point of view, what happened to Jesus... to the body of one beaten and crucified.  I listened and it felt very academic. He discussed all the walking Jesus had to do while being escorted - not very nicely - from place to place in the middle of the night with no sleep.  He was beaten to near death and the thorns were long that were placed on His head.  Crucifixion was made to cut nerves not blood vessels.  Inflicting pain was paramount to achieving death, though that would be the end result.  It was academic; it was facts and theories with little emotional appeal. He didn't really discuss the relational or emotional aspects of the event. 

However, when the doctor got to the point near the end when he said that some people assert that Jesus didn't actually die, he was moved to tears.  He just paused and apologized and finished his medical talk.  It was as though the idea of all the clinical details of the discussion came home to him. This happened to Jesus. You don't really need any emotional appeal if you actually just contemplate in reality what Christ endured.  The facts stand alone as to what He suffered.  They shout out immense pain.  We don't need adjectives.  Add the knowledge that Christ had the power to choose not to endure, but did because of love... again...no appeal needed.  The action speaks for itself.  If you can, just sit and think about it for a while.  It's not pleasant or easy.

The youth pastor was attempting to introduce a time of worship after that, but he just had to stop talking and play.  This is when it all hit me.  Again, I found myself saying "no" to God.  This agony was too much to be endured on my behalf.  I could not accept it.  I could only let tears come.  I couldn't worship. They sang "How He Loves," and I could only hang my head in shame... only shake my head, overwhelmed.  Not for me... not for this one who gets caught up in petty life issues.  Not for me who isn't brave to share Christ with neighbors and isn't brave to talk to strangers... not for me who talks trust but has to learn it fresh all the time...

Sometimes the enormity of the suffering of Christ immobilizes me.  The cost of the love He offers is too great for me to receive.  I want it not to be true - I cannot handle that He suffered that much to allow me to know Him.  I will never be able to be worthy of it.  So I want to push it all away.  I want to will it to not have happened.  Yes, it means my redemption and yes, it is amazing love... but how can I handle the guilt of having put Him through all of that?

I think of sharing Christ and we aren't told to acknowledge that this is hard to accept.  It's hard to want to believe that someone could love me, a messed up rebel, enough to endure all the torture Christ endured.  What if I told you about that?  What if I talked about this incredible, agonizing love and tell you it's hard to believe, but that doesn't make it less true?  And what if I tell you that the immensity of the love can haunt you?  What if I said that it would be perfectly natural for you to hide behind your hands and not want to accept this love because I feel that way sometimes?

We don't have the capacity as humans to continually carry the enormity of Christ's suffering in our hearts.  We would be burdened and unable to move.  It took a while for me to get out of my seat that night.  And even then, I couldn't understand the laughter and chatter around me.  All I really wanted to do was weep.  Or scream. 

I felt like what I sang in the morning worship was so cheap.  To say blithely "Thank you for the cross" without really thinking about what the cross really means.  We take it all for granted. But, how can we not?  How can we function under the heavy weight of love - blowing it all the time - living a cheap life and never being able to give enough back when all offerings seem like inadequate tips for the quality and quantity of the service rendered.  How can I possibly offer anything when everything wouldn't even be remotely close to enough?  It seems futile. 

Even in this, I mess it up if I stay here.  I make it about me.  I've gotten lost in my unworthiness rather than in His worthiness.  He stands offering love and I refuse. This is where grace and mercy flow over all these emotions.  Grace bending me, breaking me to accept unending and overwhelming love.  Truth, Himself, inviting me, empowering me to stand again.  Strength, Himself, making me able to receive this love.  Mercy triumphing over judgment.

I try to hold a piece of this emotion in my heart - the suffering He endured - without rejecting the gift of love. I try to walk on offering all, knowing it can never ever compensate for what I've received.  It's humbling and good and right. It's never about what I can do and always about what He has done and is doing.  After all this, He still works through me, the broken child, to glorify His name.  I have to get to the point where my understanding of it all doesn't matter so much, but my believing it matters immensely. 

The cross, symbol of horrific suffering, is also the symbol of mind-blowing, heart-altering, life-changing love.  I need to remember the severity of the suffering since it graphically shows me the depth of the love.  Rather than trying to deserve it, I desire be grateful for what I can never deserve,  merely accepting it and living my life in thankfulness for Love so amazing. 

This is what we were doing on Sunday morning.  It was good and right, but I am thankful for the Sunday night bringing Love closer and deeper.  I'm looking forward to celebrating the resurrection... to accepting the sacrifice and the gift... Looking death straight in the eye, and winning... walking in a love that always endures.