Before the Resurrection

1... 2.

Day 2.

A world filled with sorrow, doubt, hopelessness, confusion, darkness. Death is mocking in its seeming defeat. The worst act of torture and evil ever to be done had just been witnessed. 

"Crucify him! Crucify him!" 

The cross is cause for celebration, but celebration doesn't feel right yet. Not now. I need to sit and stay awhile in the ache and devastation and anger first-- because He died. He died and suffered immeasurably hard. I cannot even come close to comprehending it. No words or emotions can do justice to it. Maybe that's the reason I am spending more time today staring at a blank computer screen than putting words on it. 

On my most recent trip overseas last month, the Lord reminded me of my sinful, wretched nature and my weakness. It was the first time in years that I shed tears in in prayer-- and they did not come shyly. I sat alone in a sacred space, singing out these words to Him: 

"And can it be that I should gain

An interest in the Savior's blood?

Died He for me, who caused His pain?

For me, who Him to death pursued?

Amazing love! How can it be

That Thou my God shouldst die for me?

... So free, so infinite His grace;

Emptied Himself of all but love"

Of all but love. What a kind of love, that would do such a thing. 

People mourned to the full before the resurrection. All they could hold onto in the waiting was Hope. Were Jesus' promises enough for them to keep the faith? Even as He lay in the tomb? 

They did not know what was coming. It wasn't over. 

And yet-- He waited three days. He let the darkness roll around in the dirt and feel its way in the world, knowing the world wasn't for it to keep. And He didn't do it just because He "felt like it." 

It takes the acknowledgement and lament of His extreme anguish to get to the sincerity of declaration and celebration of His rising. When did I reach the point where I thought of death on the cross as "just another" thing Jesus did? When did I forget that it was me who put Him on it? 

And here I am, bitterly regretful of my nail polish color choice. I don't get it. The What and the Why of the Cross-- how do they not fill my thoughts day and night?

Today has consisted of a lingering, painful ache in remembrance. The tomb with someone in it, not the empty one. It does the heart and soul well to let hurt-- because we know we aren't intended to stay there forever. The count doesn't end on 2.