Sunday, March 10, 2013


In a house where the ticking clock can at last be heard, where deep breathing luls children to a world of peaceful dreams, here I sit. Here, at last, at the foot of the cross I sit: the only place the earth is ever level.

Here I am; broken, hurting, shaken.  Here I am and tonight, that’s who I am.  Yet I know, because I’m me and in spite of me, You love me. You love us, and I am speechless.

So it’s forehead and knees pressed hard to the ground at the foot of the cross: this Calvary ground. This rough and lonely ground You walked carrying a cross on a back where blood and splinters kissed.

You walked alone, carrying your door to death. You submitted Your will, Your needs and Your questions to the One, the Father, who loves You and this aching world with passion unrivaled.  Because of that, Your door to death became our bridge to life eternal. What appeared to be the end of your future was the beginning of ours.

And on that fateful night when water burst from the puncture of a spear that tore through innocent flesh, when the final burst of blood exited your human/God-heart, did water flow and blood drain from the faces gathered watching, standing and kneeling on this rough and lonely Cavalry ground?

Did they understand the pain of your suffering was the only currency qualified to pay the ransom of their release...of our release?

Did the heavenly silence following your passionate question, “My God, My God, why have you forsaken me?” remind each of them within the sound of your cry of their own cries ending in question marks that never gave way answers?

When the question hung,

flesh tore,
water burst,
and heart collapsed,

Did the hill empty?

And as the crowds on Calvary went home, did the lips kissing their babies goodnight press hard to hold back tears of sorrow or murmur curses to cope with the seeming end of all hopes?

Did the hands that had waved palm branches and grabbed their children’s faces, exclaiming, “OUR KING HAS COME TO SAVE US!”, clench into fists and shake at the blackened sky?

When foreheads and knees pressed hard into Calvary’s rough ground, did anyone know the end of Your pain was the beginning of their healing... of our healing?

Did they understand the darkness of that night would give way to light bursting from an empty tomb?

And when that third day finally dawned, did Your eyes laugh to see shock and joy on faces that despaired? Smiles on lips that cursed? Hope in eyes that wept?

Because that is me...that's us.

I wait on Calvary for an answer but my questions still hang under a silent heaven.

I press hard into the rough ground, on my face, on my knees and look up only to see the end of hope and dreams, and I reel.  

I walk back down that hill of hope, shoulders sagging under the weight of despair.

I kiss my babies goodnight, lips pressed to hold back the tears.

I clench fists and shake them at the darkened sky.

And I too don’t see it, don’t understand it... a third day is coming.

Darkness will give way to light, hope to despair...because of You, because You suffered and paid the price to set us free.  

My trial will give way to victory, a journey down a dark Calvary path will lead me to the empty tomb where You stand, waiting: Your eyes laughing when You see joy fill my eyes that had only days earlier over-flowed with tears.

Tonight the clock ticks, children sleep, and I am speechless.

How You love us all.

1 comment:

Laura said...

What a powerful reminder! Something I definitely need to spend more time being "speechless" over. Thanks for sharing, Tara.