MARY’S ANGUISH
Jehovah, God,
Had I known, had I known
Would I have chosen to bear this child?
Could I have chosen this?
“And hope sprouts new, because God doesn’t give us a list. He invites us into the story.”
— Emily P. Freeman / A million little ways.
During this season of Lent, I have been reflecting on the art of pausing.
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Luke 5:27 – “After this, Jesus went out and saw a tax collector by the name of Levi sitting at his tax booth. ‘Follow me,” Jesus said to him.
I found it interesting to read what happened prior to Jesus whooping it up with Levi at a banquet with the tax collector and his friends. The ones that the Pharisees and their scribes would not be caught dead with. See right before Jesus connected with Levi he was (I imagine) impressed with the tenacity of the paralytic’s friends who cut a hole in the roof and lowered their friend down in front of Jesus to be healed. Jesus took one look at the man and told him his sins were forgiven. This caused an uproar! Who was he that he could do that! So Jesus met them where they were at and instead said, “Ok, well then take up your mat and go home!” (v. 24) Who was he to claim such a thing! What audacity he had!
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Why would you ever complain, O Jacob, or, whine, Israel, saying, “God has lost track of me. He doesn’t care what happens to me”? Don’t you know anything? Haven’t you been listening? God doesn’t come and go. God lasts. He’s Creator of all you can see or imagine. He doesn’t get tired out, doesn’t pause to catch his breath. And he knows everything, inside and out. He energizes those who get tired, gives fresh strength to dropouts. For even young people tire and drop out, young folk in their prime stumble and fall. But those who wait upon God get fresh strength. They spread their wings and soar like eagles, They run and don’t get tired, they walk and don’t lag behind. Isaiah 40: 27-31 The Message
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There was a heartbeat, heard only by God and by rejoicing angels and insects in the darkness of a death-cave. Before the sun’s rising, there was a heartbeat and resurrected life.
Sabbath ended with Sunday’s breaking light and on a dirt path leading to a tomb the steps of three women scattered dust, causing the earth to beat with urgency.
There was a rhythm to the morning felt only by God, and rejoicing angels, and spiders and butterflies, and those that sensed such things. The work of wrapping the body of a Savior needed doing but the body was gone.
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My friend Sami Awad is one of the bravest people I know. He leads an amazing organization in Bethlehem called the Holy Land Trust. In fact, Sami is a friend to many of us sharing this Lenten journey to Easter. When asked what the days leading up to Easter feel a year ago, Sami shared: It's been a long and dark winter in the Holy Land.
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