It’s Lent. In fact, this is Passion Week. All around the world people are telling the stories of a man on a donkey, with his friends sharing a meal, betrayal, death and resurrection. This story that we enter into is rich and offers more than just the scene of Jesus nailed to a cross. I hope and pray that you worship in a community that practices the church calendar in a way that gives proper reverence and relevance to the seasons that have been observed by believers for thousands of years. This rhythm has shaped the dynamic of how the Church intentionally worships God in the width of the spectrum that is His character. I withhold saying the fullness of the spectrum because of our limitations in understanding, not His in sharing.
Lent is the season from Ash Wednesday to Easter. It’s the time of the year where we contemplate the road to the Cross- both the circumstances in Christ’s life and those in our own. Many fast or engage in other acts of penance during this season.
Seminary life affords a peculiar type of humor: nerdy theological humor that would make most Christians groan. One joke that is regularly punted around is that the perfect seminary answer is “both/and.” We spend our days exploring the mysterious paradox that is our God and the way He works. Is He loving or just? Yes. Both/And. Are we free or chosen? Yes. Both/And. Am I saved for the afterlife or the present life? Yes. Both/And. Am I healed and made whole in the afterlife or in the present life? Yes. Both/And. Is God one or three? Yes. Both/And. Was Jesus divine or human? Yes. Both/And. Our job is to joyfully proclaim the mystery of God, holding high both sides of truth. Today I was struck by one of these Both/And statements.
I am lucky enough to worship immersed in a community that is giving this season due attention. We have joined the saints before us in pausing to consider what the road to the Cross was/is like. Today in chapel we sang Tomlin’s version of The Wonderful Cross. Have you every considered these words...
See from his head, his hands, his feet
Sorrow and love flow mingled down
Did ever such love and sorrow meet
Or thorns compose so rich a crown
Have you sat with them? Have you allowed them to seep into your dark places? Yes! The Cross is a loving place. And Jesus bore that Cross because of love for you, for me, for humanity, for creation. He took on the pain, consequences, and separation from the Father that our sinfulness and brokenness created because of extravagant love.
BUT. He acted equally out of sorrow as He did out of love.
Yes. Both/And.
Whoa.
What does the sorrow of our Lord mean? What is He sorrowful for? He hates our sin. Yes. But, I think he hates what sin does to us just as much. He hates the pain that it causes. He hates the consequences. He hates the separation that it creates between the Father and us. He hates the brokenness. He hurts because of our pain. The cross was sorrowful because it wasn’t necessary. He grieves because he wants to protect us from the pain, but we chose it anyway. We choose it anyway. Sorrow and love are related. Have you ever watched a mother run to a child that has fallen down? Have you ever watched a husband beside the bed of his dying wife? Have you ever seen a child cry as they buried a pet? Sorrow and love are related. We are created in the image of God. Praise be our God!
This Easter, may you see the sorrow of the Cross as it mingles with the love of the Cross.
Sound Track: The Wonderful Cross, Chris Tomlin, *see below.
"The Wonderful Cross"
When I survey the wondrous cross
On which the Prince of Glory died
My richest gain I count but loss
And pour contempt on all my pride
See from his head, his hands, his feet
Sorrow and love flow mingled down
Did ever such love and sorrow meet
Or thorns compose so rich a crown
O the wonderful cross, O the wonderful cross
Bids me come and die and find that I may truly live
O the wonderful cross, O the wonderful cross
All who gather here by grace draw near and bless Your name
Were the whole realm of nature mine
That were an offering far too small
Love so amazing, so divine
Demands my soul, my life, my all
