Today was Good Friday, we nailed our sins to the cross, we Christ to the cross with our sins.
We remembered the painful road Jesus took to his death with a Service of the Shadows. With every point of suffering, we blew out a candle. We confessed our sins on a piece of paper then took turns to nail it to a cross. I sat there in the sanctuary in silence, listening to the chilling sound of the hammer hitting the nails. I thought about how every clang was the sound of nails being drilled into Jesus, how every time we sinned – every time we took his love for granted, every time we were selfish, impatient, rude, proud, insolent, lied, lusted, let injustice and deceit slide by – hammered the nails into his flesh, tore open his skin. My heart hurt as much as it could. I got chills down my spine as I realised how much pain we cause our Lord, Father and God each day. Everyday we sin much more than all the clangs that rang out in the sanctuary today, yet He loved us to death. Literally loved us to death.
I think about how Jesus knew God’s will and plan, struggled with it yet obeyed. He submitted to God’s plan even though it lead him to a painful, humiliating and lonely death.
I stand amazed at the suffering that was borne for me, for how much love there must have been for someone to have endured that for me. I know I don’t deserve it. I look back at the past school year and depth of loneliness, sadness, frustration that has surrounded me and wonder how much more lonely, isolating, painful and miserable it must have been for Jesus. I haven’t had it easy, neither did he. I cried endlessly, asking God why I am alone again, asking him if I am that unlovable that the friends I thought I have ignore me, that I don’t get invited to hang out, that I am so isolated to the point that nobody knows what’s going on in my life unless I say something, that even when I try to look for help and support I’m met with silence. I cried out demanding my right to be loved, to be understood, appreciated and cared for. I’ve cried out because none of it has seemed fair, it still doesn’t seem fair. I cried because I’ve given so much to a community that isn’t giving back, I’ve loved people who don’t love me the way I want them to. I’ve cried because the weight on my back and my heart has been unbearable and there has been no one who would share it with me. He remained silent when he was wrongfully accused, prosecuted, beaten up, nailed and left to die. He cried for us. He cried for me.
My Father, if it is possible, may this cup be taken from me. Yet not as I will, but as you will.
My Father, if it is not possible for this cup to be taken away unless I drink it, may your will be done.
