“My God, why have you forsaken me?!” he cried out, a dying man. His blood was running out–the wood had opened the gashes on his back, from flogging that had nearly claimed his life earlier that day. After the long hours of hanging by nails through his wrists, his lungs had nearly filled with mucus and fluid. They offered him some sour wine. He cried out again, with a loud voice, and yielded his spirit.
So Jesus died, in more excruciating physical, emotional, and above all spiritual pain than any one of us can grasp.
His mother and brothers watched him die. That pain I can begin to try to grasp; I think of my loved ones, and tears fill my eyes. I wonder about the pain his mother experienced, and it shakes me to the core. How did it not break her soul? The single most painful moment of my life was at my friends funeral, seeing his mother weep. I think that pain is etched into my heart and soul for as long as I will be. How did Mary’s soul not break? Maybe it did, come to think about it; maybe it did and was healed. That would surely take a miracle.
I turn, and I look up at God.
“Why did you make me like this? Why do I do evil? And even more, why would you forgive me? Forgive a better man! I’m a horrible person God, maybe you’ll change your mind if I tell you about me, the hurt I’ve done to others…and you love them too!…just by being selfish and prideful me.”
He smiles a little smile, shakes his head, and sighs a bit.
“I love you, child.”
“Well sure, but I screw up! I hurt other people that you love! What about them? What about the relationships I have with others, that I’ve ruined? What about you? I haven’t done a very good job of getting to know you, I usually spend more time doing homework than with you. Not only do I screw up and hurt people, I screw up and hurt you! Some days I wonder if I’m even sane to believe that you’re here!”
He nodded his head, still smiling a little bit.
“Yeah, you do screw up a lot, but don’t worry about that for the moment. I made you to richly, deeply, truly be, son. That means relationships, and relationships in a world where everything’s perfect…well, think about it. It would be a rehearsed act, lip syncing. Relationships are meaningless without right, and downright horrible when there is complete lack of peace. Right needs law and peace needs justice. My relationship with you, above all, is like that.”
“But can’t you just somehow make it right? I would take anything…just…can’t things be right and good for a little while Couldn’t I just be punished? Wouldn’t that make things right?”
“I love you, child. I don’t want to have to punish you for all you’ve done, I’d like there to be another way. Remember the good friend you hurt the other year, and you cried? When I saw your pain, I cried.”
“But…God…can’t you do something?! Anything?”
“I did, my child, I did. Ask Christ about it, he’ll tell you more.”
He still smiled a little bit, and gave me a big hug as I began to sob.
