We have been trying hard to really teach our kids the meaning of Easter and the magnitude of what Jesus did for us. I want them to understand that while bunnies, candy and Easter eggs are fun, they are surely NOT what Easter is truly about. Friday night I was sitting with Luke and we were talking about the events that happened on Good Friday. I said to him, "Isn't it crazy that Jesus would endure so much pain for us. He suffered so much and he never did one thing wrong. We are the ones who do wrong." an Luke said to me, "It isn't crazy Mom. It is awesome. I am sad that he had to do it but I sure am glad he did." I love that kid. He believes every one of God's words and never doubts. I learn so much from him.
As I sat last night in a quiet house reflecting and reading and worshiping, my heart broke. I sat here in the dark imagining the suffering He endured for our sins. I also found my heart very heavy thinking of Mary. As a mom who has watched as two of her sons died, I could only imagine the pain Mary felt as she watched the events unfold, as she watched the body of her sweet son broken and as she saw his blood poured out when he never deserved a moment of it.
I went to bed with a heavy heart, and today as I continue to try and really do some heart work and really try to accept the amazing gift the Lord gave to us, I can't help but think of what that Saturday must have been like. I can't help but think of how the disciples felt or how Mary must have felt. I can only imagine the mourning that must have taken place and the extent of their grief. I wonder about the anguish and guilt the disciples, especially Peter must have felt that they stood by helplessly and denied even knowing Jesus. Now he was gone.
I remember the eerie stillness and quietness of the days after Isaac and Asher's deaths and I wonder if that is what it was like. The tomb was sealed, the tears were still fresh and hearts broken. Bewildered and sorrowful, the world would never be the same.
I have said it before, that I struggle with the idea of being still, but Holy Saturday is a day for just that. To be still, and wait. It is a threshold day for sure...a day of waiting. I am reminded that on days like this I am to refocus. So often throughout life's twists and turns I have worried, become anxious and stressed. On these threshold days, where grief grips the heart, we are called to turn to the One who goes to those dark places with us and sits with us, the places so empty that no one and nothing else can reach. He goes in to those places with us so that He can bring us out.
As I sit and really grasp the magnitude of Jesus' death and suffering, I find myself bewildered that I continually fail to trust in Him. My worry, my stress, my anxiety, all of those are failures in trust. He never promises that the road will be paved and smooth. Sometimes it is gnarly and treacherous, but He does go before us. He paid the ultimate price. What else do we need to be able to fully trust Him? What more could he have done? Has he not done enough? We cannot accept the resurrection until we fully grasp the death. He died for us. He was blameless and perfect. He was whipped, beaten, and hung to die for OUR sins, not his own. How much more does he have to do to prove His UNFAILING love for us? He has earned our trust and yet we fail to trust again and again. I am guilty.
I am coming to learn that we cannot fully accept our gift of salvation if we are walking through life with a clenched fist...we cannot accept the gifts of love he has to offer unless we are willing to open the hand and receive. I tend to want to look back on the pain of the past and use those experiences to show that I cannot trust, but if I am being honest, even in those dark and sad places, He was there...He held me and He carried me. He died for me. I am working hard to change that habit and instead look back at all of the gifts of love he has bestowed upon me. I am uncurling my fingers, one at a time and learning to accept each and every gift, and look for the beauty and give thanks.