My heart is breaking.
Watching the scenes unfold. Families grieving.
And what is usually a magnificent scene of grandeur; the Alps.
Now a place of great tragedy. And loss. For so many.
A downed plane.
And this one so senseless it seems.
As the news continues to unfold.
And we cry out.
Why?
From the depths of despair.
For ourselves. For others.
Because we all fear. That loss of control.
The merry of life soon shifting in one shocking moment.
To despair.
And place blame. On someone.
And ultimately. Perhaps God. So often a scapegoat.
Because the mysteries threaten to bury us.
So much we cannot understand.
But this I know.
He is not to blame.
It is Holy God.
Doing the rescuing.
Having hung on the tree.
And our hearts will never rest until they rest in Him.
And though the mysteries swirl.
And planes fall out of the sky.
We can live secure.
In His unfathomable love.
A gift indescribable. Shocking even.
That Holy God would love us flawed.
In our broken. And crying out.
Suffering amid the beauty He created.
But He. Restoring every day.
Despite the pain. We sometimes experience.
Promising never to leave or forsake us.
A love beyond figuring out.
And that is why.
We rejoice even when our heart is breaking.
The holiest of days. Good Friday. It's hard to breathe. Words do not come easy. It was the third hour when they nailed Jesus to the cross.
From the sixth to the ninth hour an inexplicable darkness covered the land. Jesus then cried out in a loud voice, "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?"
What to do with awful loss . . . ripping apart . . . feeling forsaken?
Is there not amazement, in experiencing great loss; life going on? That everyone is not stopped in their tracks? Gazing and somehow knowing life is forever altered. Does it not show on the face, in the eyes? The rapid heartbeat, sweaty palms; emotions swirl and eddy.
On that Friday the sun stopped shining. God turned His back. Jesus was forsaken. He hung there on the cross.
It was evident in their faces; his loved ones, hovering nearby, bent low with grief. Weeping. Mary, his mother. Her sister. John, his best friend, and others. Sorrow beyond words. Confusion and hurt. Death and darkness. Life had been forever altered.
They didn't know that was the plan. From the beginning.
But today, we know. It was always the plan.
Restoration, redemption, reconciliation, to bring back, repair.
Around the ninth hour Jesus bowed his head and gave up his spirit saying, "It is finished".
The words hung there too. For the religious leaders, the Roman guard, the enemy of this world, Jesus' loved ones and us today.
It is finished. The most astonishing gift the world has ever seen. That He would die in our place. Life is forever altered.
Does it not stop us in our tracks? Show on our face? Are we amazed?
