Words Fail Me…..
The intensity of emotion overwhelms my ability to frame thoughts and find words.
To speak feels indecent, like chattering about theology beside the bed of a dying person.
The only thing that works for me is the language of prayer.
As I sat in the chapel this morning the following prayer came to me,
“Lord God, grant me the courage to be present, simply present to the suffering of your son today.
As I meditate on his passion, I am afraid and I am overwhelmed, Lord God. Please hold on to me so that I will not turn away and run. Give me the grace to be present to the suffering of your son today.
Lord God, give me the grace to open my heart and mind to Jesus as he absorbs the hate of the world, the rage and fury of the world on the cross. Help me to see how he carries the scorn, betrayal, judgment, anguish, suffering, rejection, prejudice, shame and violence of the world in his body today.”
As I prayed, a new sensation came to me….
It was like the feeling of a receding tide, sweeping the beach and pulling the sand and stone and driftwood out to sea. It was as if God was tugging at me, inviting me to be present to my own shadow, the wrong in me, and to let it flow into Jesus as well.
I recoiled at first. I backed away. I could barely face Jesus on the Cross, how could I see my suffering, my anguish, my hurt and my wrong put on him. But this was the invitation. Jesus was carrying away the sin of the world – like a receding tide – and my sin too could be washed away.
Letting go feels like grief, feels like mourning, feels like dying.
And that is our gift this morning. To be present to our beloved, tortured, dying savior who offers himself – as a great receding oceanic tide - that sweeps up and receives the worst of the world, the worst in us, and sets us free.
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