March 29, 2013
Today we pause to memorialize Your divine dying and, with it, our death-loving selves.
You came to us, Jesus, the God-Man of heaven to preach good news to the poor, to bind up the broken hearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives and the loosening of bonds to those in chains and the acceptable day of the Lord. And we could not receive You in such a holy manner. We could not have You come in goodness and truth and generous love. It was too much for our death-loving selves, our dying world, our darkness-ridden lives to take You in as You are.
So we marred Your countenance, shamed Your body, in a self-natured attempted to beat heaven out of You and condemn You to a small plot of earth. You were just being Yourself. And we were just being ours.
Today, Abba, we acknowledge that this is not our first action of insisting on evil rather than Your good.
Remember the days of Eden? The blissful walks through the garden, pushing back abundant foliage to keep cantor with Your Divine Self walking along side. But the days ended millennia too soon, as one edible lie was taken and given. At the tree of Good and Evil, we insisted on evil. And we are still unrecovered.
Our fallenness carried us to the patriarchs and prophets; to the days of refusing ears and stoned hearts. You called us to listened to Isaiah and we threw him in a cistern, hating the offer of our salvation. You called Jonah to go to Nineveh, and we along with him, hated the idea of their salvation. We have always insisted on us, ours, mine. We have always insisted on taking, hiding, stealing, refusing. We have always insisted on evil.
And even at Your birth, where heaven crashed with earth in Your little baby body, lying in a feeding trough on some molding hay, we were not waiting, welcoming, worshiping You. We had to be beckoned off the fields, out of our homes, away from our more important tasks to Your manger side. You had to call us from distant lands through our cosmic watching to bring You petty gifts that were already Yours. And that was only a few of us. We are mostly Herod; scheming, deceiving, unbelieving. We hated the idea of Your kingdom unseen, and even more the reality of being part of it. We insisted on Evil.
At Your cross is no acceptation. The trees Your formed, we forced You to carry. We nailed You by Your wrists and feet because Deity must be kept in place. Your goodness illuminated our darkness far too much, and You said Yourself that we love it so. So this cross should be no surprise to You. Because we have always insisted on Evil.
And at this day of Your death, I remember we continue in our ways. Wouldn't it be nice to say that we're different today? That we, too, have been Eastered?
We insist on our leisure at the cost of the poor, on our opulence at the expense of the underpaid. We insist on keeping our world happy and prosperous and comfortable. And, in our grand act of neglectfulness, the children continue to be trafficked, the poor continue to be oppressed, the homeless continue on the streets, the AIDS-wracked mothers continue to die.
So heal us, dying Jesus. Heal us with the holiness we rejected. Light us with Yourself. Insist on our healing, on our redemption, on our Resurrection. Insist this Friday be Good. Because we're an insisting people, and we have yet to insist on You.
Hi, friend. I'm Amy. Mostly, I’m just another twenty-something trying to figure out the stuff of life. I am a nerdy seminary student who loves the smell of old books and early mornings in the library. I am an artist wanabee, a liberal to the conservative and conservative to the liberal, guilty social justice groupie, and a recovering Bible know-it-all with the unreal ability to put my foot in my mouth an astonishing number of times each day. I am a sister to eight of the most hysterical creatures ever created. Good theology, used book stores, and autumn make me giddy. I preach passionately, think deeply, and ask too many questions. I write prayers, poetry and prose. I write about preaching bad and good, gender roles in the Church, the sacraments, stupid things we do on Sunday, politics, and almost everything else that you are not supposed to discuss in polite company. I also blog at oneyellowbird.blogspot.com. Welcome to the journey.
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