On the day I should be humble, Lord
Stricken with grief and despair
I find myself looking up at You and
mocking you with my stare.
“If you are the son of God,” I yell
“then get off that cross. Do SOMEthing.
Save yourself. Call the angels. How foolish
that you do nothing!”
I watch you speak to the criminals as your lungs start to collapse,
offering a seat in Paradise? Please. You’re nothing but a man.
Eventually you die and as the sky and ground split in two,
I shrug off the scream of creation, my eyes are fixed only on you.
You are dead, Jesus. That’s what I see.
I feel nothing but disappointed.
What a joke I played on my heart, to think you were somehow anointed.
Now here I am, generations removed from the actual moment that you died
and I am so so angry Lord. I want to do nothing but scream and cry.
It alarms me because I have always been for you, with you, trusting every move you have made.
Now I find myself retreating from the wings that gave me shade.
Do you see what’s happening around here, God? Do you hear the bombs and screams?
As girls are ripped from their innocence and the heads of children fill the streets?
I’m back at the foot of the Cross and I am yelling at you again to move, to ACT
my voice catches in my throat because it’s actually desperation I feel. Not anger.
I am so tired of holding out nothing but hope. It seems so not enough for that mourning mother.
What of that child who watched themselves become an orphan? WHAT ARE YOU DOING FOR THEM?
For years I have recited the rhetoric. I have looked at the cross with deep sorrow yet JOY.
But this year, God I am struggling SO HARD to believe this isn’t just a big ploy.
I have broken down for the broken down and feel entirely spent.
I know you offer eternal life, but does it matter when this life, for so many, is hell?
Yet, before your eyes close in death on the cross, before you surrender your life,
You look down into my hateful heart and am compelled, for me, to die.
You know that I will doubt you, that I will try and flee from your presence.
You have gone with me every place I am, You will continue into the next one.
God I weep at my unbelief, at the doubt I have nurtured, coddled and kept
But just as you saw me, clear as day on that cross, you saw billions and billions… and wept.
So even though sometimes it’s hard to swallow the truth lodged in my imperfect, wayward spirit,
I will proclaim to the nations, to neighbors, to friends, to anyone who will hear it:
God saw and He moved and He entered into our hate. He suffocated under our darkness.
Today, RIGHT NOW, the Enemy tears through flesh and nations to convince us that our God is absent.
Oh friend, skeptic, critic, and saint – do not be deceived any longer.
The glimpses of terror we have seen in our time, are a fraction of what laid on Christ’s shoulders.
We will not ever fully know the dark, cold waters of our depravity, as Christ has known them.
The Enemy likes to make us think those waters will drown us in despair and pain,
But Jesus’ death gives every soul the chance to come up for air, and remain.