Grave: To Impress or Fix (as a thought) Deeply

Calvary’s mournful mountain climb; there adoring at his feet,

Mark that miracle of time, God’s own sacrifice complete.

“It is finished!” hear him cry; learn of Jesus Christ to die.

(James Montgomery)

 

photo 1

Listen carefully: Unless a grain of wheat is buried in the ground, dead to the world, it is never any more than a grain of wheat. But if it is buried, it sprouts and reproduces itself many times over. In the same way, anyone who holds on to life just as it is destroys that life. But if you let it go, reckless in your love, you’ll have it forever, real and eternal. (John 12:24-25 The Message)

Listen carefully: Two men approach the cross at dusk, asking to take Jesus to prepare his body for burial. In a garden nearby, they wash His blood-crusted wounds and swaddle Him in burial cloths, to lay him in a virgin tomb.

Listen carefully: The officials send soldiers to seal the tomb for extra insurance. To keep any radical disciples from stealing the body in the dark of the night. The soldiers keep watch through the long, dark night. And so does the Father, who never sleeps nor slumbers.

Listen carefully: Owls hoot. Leaves rustle. Soldiers shift their feet to keep awake. A rumble in the distance. The indigo night begins to fade to blue-gray, as the sun journeys from its slumber.

Listen carefully: The rush of wings. A bird of prey? Or the wind playing tricks on the sleep deprived soldiers? Blinding light obscures their sight, and the stone shudders, as if in an earthquake. They fall to their knees speechless.

Listen carefully: New life is bursting through the ground, as the green leaf pushes through the soil. Yellow jonquils greet the first light of day, their blooms bobbing in the morning breeze, as if agreeing that joy comes in the morning.

Good: What One Clings To

See him at the judgment hall, beaten, bound, reviled, arraigned;

O the worm-wood and the Gall! O the pangs his soul sustained!

Shun not suffering, shame, or loss; learn of Christ to bear the cross.

(James Montgomery)

photo-004

 . . . fixing our eyes on Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of faith. For the joy set before him he endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God. (Hebrews 12:2 NIV)

On this side of the cross, we call this day good. We cling to the cross, surrendering there, surveying its wonder. Amazed by love that held our Savior to a rugged, tortuous death. Taking our place. The beatings, the demeaning slurs and slaps and mockeries all weigh down this redeemed heart.

As I stand under the shadow of the cross today, I feel relieved that the narrative doesn’t end there. What is my faith built on? Do I really surrender at the cross? Or do I surrender to His love? Do I surrender when I find out the tomb is empty or when I see Him ascend in the clouds? Do I promise to love Him over breakfast on the beach, when He asks that searching question: “Do you love me?”

What does my love and devotion look like? Is it ritual or real? Is it messy or measured? Does my sin hold His attention or does His love hold mine?

I have contemplated the cross year after year, and you’d think I’d have more answers than questions. But tonight, I wonder why do we cling to the cross, why do we relive the suffering of Jesus? He demonstrated and declared, “It is finished!” Why can’t I just fast forward to the sunrise and the joy that was set before Him? As I walked to my car, after the Good Friday service, a song poured into my heart and onto my lips:

My hope is built on nothing less
Than Jesus’ blood and righteousness.
I dare not trust the sweetest frame,
But wholly trust in Jesus’ Name.

On Christ the solid rock I stand, all other ground is sinking sand.

(Edward Mote)

What is your hope built on?

Gethsemane: A Place of Great Mental or Spiritual Suffering

They went to a place called Gethsemane, and Jesus said to his disciples, “Sit here while I pray.”  He took Peter, James and John along with him, and he began to be deeply distressed and troubled. “My soul is overwhelmed with sorrow to the point of death,” he said to them. “Stay here and keep watch.”

Going a little farther, he fell to the ground and prayed that if possible the hour might pass from him. “Abba, Father,” he said, “everything is possible for you. Take this cup from me. Yet not what I will, but what you will.” (Mark 14:32-36 NIV)

photo-2

We are entering the final stretch of this marathon of Lent.  Today, the liturgy invites us to recall the Last Supper along with Jesus’ radical example of washing the feet of his own disciples. After the meal, they depart for a nearby olive grove. Jesus knows what lies ahead. He and his Father have rehearsed the plan, yet Jesus still has to go through the physical, mental and spiritual anguish associated with the Father’s intention to save the world through his beloved son’s death.

As we get closer to the glorious finish, we enter the days when facing the betrayal, the denial, the excruciating pain and the final breath of our Savior on the cross, seem insurmountable. To be perfectly honest, this is the point in the race where I want to quit. I can’t bear to watch. Like the disciples, I am exhausted and I just want to sleep. But Jesus invites me to pray. To overcome the anguish that begs me to just skip the cross and get on to the empty tomb.

Today, I came across an old hymn called Go to Dark Gethsemane (James Montgomery). Each stanza seems to reflect the path of the next four days. I was confronted with my lack of peace that results from an ongoing struggle with unbelief, pride and selfishness. And each step of the way, Jesus instructs me through his life experience that these temptations can be overcome.

In the garden, Jesus overcomes unbelief with prayer. It must have felt unbelievable that his disciples couldn’t keep watch with him. The unspoken question, “Is all this pain really necessary?” hovers on this dark night of his soul. He confesses to his Father that his flesh would welcome relief, would welcome a different plan, but by wrestling through his anguish, he releases his will to his Father.

I leave you with the first stanza of the hymn to pass this hour with Jesus:

Go to dark Gethsemane, you that feel the tempter’s power;

Your Redeemer’s conflict see, Watch with him one bitter hour.

Turn not from his griefs away; learn of Jesus to pray.

Lavish Layers of Love

Therefore, having been justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom also we have access by faith into this grace in which we stand, and rejoice in hope of the glory of God. And not only that, but we also glory in tribulations, knowing that tribulation produces perseverance; and perseverance, character; and character, hope. Now hope does not disappoint, because the love of God has been poured out in our hearts by the Holy Spirit who was given to us. (Romans 5:1-5 NKJV)

photo 3-016

Faith justifies.

Peace transpires.

Grace rejoices.

Tribulation amplifies.

Perseverance rallies.

Character multiplies.

Hope sanctifies.

Spirit of God supplies.

Love satisfies.

Paul layers foundational truth upon truth in this passage. To show us the deep, deep love of Jesus poured out through the Holy Spirit by the design of the Father.

In my art work, I challenged myself to re-examine how the layers go together. Mix-up the order to see what emerges. Click here to see how the process informed my decisions.

The layering process reminded me how faith focuses our ability to glorify God. And as we take each step to trust Him, God adds depth and texture to our lives through the celebrations and the sufferings with the results always being more hope, peace and love combined with perseverance, character and faith.

What would a layer of grace look like in your life today?

 

Pace: Rate of Progress

Follow God’s example, therefore, as dearly loved children and walk in the way of love, just as Christ loved us and gave himself up for us as a fragrant offering and sacrifice to God. (Ephesians 5:1-2 NIV)

photo 3-004

“How is Lent going?” I ask myself, as I listen to Haydn’s String Quartets on Spotify, and read the psalm suggested by Vinita Hampton Wright from her blog series, Songs for Your Life: Lenten Psalms.

I try to sing the psalm to the tune playing in the background. The staccato reverberation of the music fits the words. The short phrases in Psalm Four seem well-suited to string accompaniment.

You gave me room

when I was in distress.

When you are disturbed,

do not sin;

ponder it on your beds,

and be silent.

God will gladden your heart

with abundance again.

Selah (Pause, and think calmly of that)

(portions of Psalm 4, paraphrased)