The Word became flesh and dwelt among us. God in flesh. Jesus walking the earth-- a man that you could talk to, touch, and see. He says I can know Him.
(Prince of Peace by Akiane)
Who are You, Jesus? What do You look like? What is Your sense of humor like? How tall are You? I want to really see Your face.
10 minutes of silence.
No answer and life goes on.
John said a sharp double-edged sword comes from the mouth of Jesus. It must be true because in the middle of brushing teeth and changing diapers a few nights later I feel these words cut through my heart,
If you want to know Me, you have to know My suffering.
Suffering, Jesus? Am I willing to go there? I have only tasted of it and I am so weak.
I see Caleb in the hospital the day after his surgery. When I saw the tubes and the bandages and he opened his eyes in pain, I felt a hurt deeper than I had ever known before. I prayed for healing and I asked Jesus, "Why?".
I think of praying for my friend during her miscarriage. I prayed for life and I asked Jesus, "Why?".
I think of the two little girls I am praying for now who are fighting cancer. I read the updates from their mothers and imagine the pain and exhaustion and I ask Jesus, "Why?"
Is there any suffering deeper than watching your child in pain and being helpless? Why suffering, Jesus? Why must we suffer and wait and pray for miracles? There are so many promises of healing. Where are You? Why do we have to watch children in pain? It doesn't seem fair. It doesn't seem right. Why don't You fix it?
And then my heart is pierced again and I remember Mary.
Mary, highly favored and blessed, was given a child. Her exciting time of betrothal was shattered with accusations of adultery. Her body changed in pregnancy while she was still a virgin. She traveled 9 months pregnant on a donkey to have her baby in a stable. She fled to Egypt in the night when the king sought to kill her child. Her town and her friends did not receive "the carpenter's son" as a prophet, much less the Son of God. She watched Him betrayed. She watched Him accused. She watched Him cold, naked, beaten, and mocked. Did she watch Him stumble under the weight of a cross too heavy to bear? She watched them drive in the nails. She watched Him hang on the cross--the death of a criminal. As He died, He loved her and cared for her, entrusting her into the care of His beloved disciple, John.
My heart aches with conviction and I realize I never want to stand in heaven next to Mary, looking at her Son with scars in His hands, and know that I ever asked Him, "Why?"
I never want to stand next to Mary and know that I ever told Jesus, "That's not fair."
Fair? Why?
Why did Mary have to see her child die like that? Why did her son have to be rejected and despised? Why did He have to have stripes on His back and nails in His hands?
Jesus didn't have to. He chose to. He chose suffering so that we could have life, and life abundantly. Here I have stood gazing at my Shepherd who jumped from heaven into suffering on my account and in asking "Why?" I accused Him of not showing up, of not doing what He should do, of not keeping His promises. I accused Him of running away like the hired help. Forgive me, sweet Jesus. Now I know You better, now I know a glimpse of Your suffering. Now I know that sometimes I lost the battle because I didn't know You and the thief crept in to kill, steal, and destroy. Now when I pray for a miracle, let me cling to Your suffering and know that You payed for the healing with every stripe on your back. You did it. You did it. You did it. You subjected yourself to unfairness so that my life could be fair. You subjected yourself to sickness so that we could be healed. You subjected yourself to death so that we could have life. You did it. Now when I ask for life, I believe that it's mine because I saw You buy it with Your own. Now when I ask for healing I believe that it's ours because I saw You buy it with every lash on Your back. You did it. You did it. You did it. I receive it. I believe it. I know it.
Thank You for the miracles that cost You everything.
I want to know You more. I want to know Your suffering more. If You ask me to take up my cross and follow You there, I say yes, yes, yes.
