Easter is nearly here. On Sunday morning, my family will wake up, get dressed, and join with countless others around the world to celebrate Christ's resurrection from the dead. We will sing praises to God that are filled with barely containable joy. We will listen, with enraptured hearts, to a sermon proclaiming the wonders God has done for us through Christ Jesus. But now, in this week leading up to Easter, we remember the awful things that lead up to our Easter joy. As we read the events found in the Gospels, we come face to face with pain, suffering, grief, and unimaginable love.
It all started late Thursday night. Jesus and His disciples had finished their Passover meal and had moved to the Garden of Gethsemane on the Mount of Olives to pray. In Mark 14:34, we read Jesus' words to Peter, James and John, “My soul is overwhelmed with sorrow to the point of death,”. Then we hear His prayer, "Abba, Father! Everything is possible for you. Take this cup from me. Yet not what I will, but what you will.” Luke says in 22:43-44 that, "An angel from heaven appeared to him and strengthened him. And being in anguish, he prayed more earnestly, and his sweat was like drops of blood falling to the ground." He prays alone because the ones who have followed Him, the ones who have spent three years devoted to Him, the ones who vowed to never leave Him, are asleep.
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| "Abba, Father!" |
Jesus has been awake for over 24 hours when the Roman guards strip Him naked, tied Him to a pole, and begin to whip Him. Lash after lash stripe Jesus' body. The whip, tipped with bone, metal, glass, tears through skin and meat on Jesus back and sides until it becomes shredded and unrecognizable. Once they finished with the whip, a scarlet robe is draped on Jesus naked body, a crown of spikes is wedged on His head, and a stick is thrust into his hand. Then the guards deride the Messiah by scoffing, "Hail! King of the Jews!" and bowing before Him. But it's not enough, so they decide to turn His scepter into a club. They beat Him, toy with Him, and even spit on Him before they finally tire off it all. The scarlet robe is ripped off of Him and they put His clothes back on Him and lead Him through the streets of Jerusalem to be crucified.
It can take days for someone to die by crucifixion. The pain is intense and incredible, but the mode of death is agonizingly slow. The spikes, hammered into the wrist and feet, sever nerves as they crack and grate against small bones. You hang on the cross naked, burning under the harsh light of the sun, while people taunt and jeer at you. But what kills you, eventually, is exhaustion and suffocation. The weight of your body forces your arms and shoulders upwards which affects your ability to get a breath. To inhale, you must push up on the nail in your feet until your airway opens up, allowing you to hold off death a few more moments. Every breath is precious because it comes at the cost of pain; every word spoken is intentional. When your broken body is too exhausted to raise you up those few precious inches, you die with people standing around you. Watching, but not helping. Jesus hung there, suffocating, for 6 hours. Finally, the Bible says, He gave up His spirit and died.
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We had to make the decision to place our six year old son into a coma to keep the seizures from harming him while teams of doctors tried to fight the infection. For four weeks we sat in that ICU room and watched. Except for my two quick trips home, I stayed with my wife and son and prayed. We prayed as some things got better. We prayed as somethings got worse. We prayed as the infection went away and as other problems began to creep in. We prayed even as we were caught in a slow downward spiral that had an unfortunate ending point.
That last Monday night was a long night. We had come to a point where Liam would either make a turn and begin to get better or it would be the end. There were no more steps down he could take; it was either life or death. I slept in 45 minute bursts in a recliner in Liam's ICU room. Beth gave up on sleep and stood vigil over the various monitors and machines. Every time I woke up, I would begin praying anew. I would pray for a miracle. I would pray for healing. I would pray for God's will to be done no matter what. I prayed for strength to face whatever lay ahead. Monday night grayed into Tuesday morning and nothing had changed. Numbers and readings that meant nothing to me were still steadily going down, bit by bit. After rounds, our team of doctors came in with tear filled eyes. Some of them had been on this journey with us for over three years and through multiple bone marrow transplants. They didn't need to tell us; we already knew. It was time. Liam's body wasn't able to keep him alive anymore. For weeks, his little body had fought but it was worn out.
They came and disconnected all the leads to his little fuzzy head. They took out the extra machines that were no longer needed and pulled out all the IV's and lines. Then they backed away. For the first time in weeks, Beth could lay beside him. I knelt down next to him and held his hand without fear of messing up an IV or disturbing a catheter. And I prayed. I often look back and wonder where that man is that prayed that day. I don't always feel his calm or his strength, though I still know his faith. I held his tiny hand and thanked my Father for the years we had with Liam. And the breathing rate started to go down. I thanked God for being with us and watching over us through the blessing and the trials. And the breaths started to falter. I prayed for God to be glorified by Liam's death and by the way we, his family, continued to live our lives. His chest rose and fell for the last time. I told my God that I loved and trusted Him as the color of life left my son's face and his body finally let go.
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| "Eli, Eli, leam sabachtani?" |
"Eli, Eli, lema sabachtani?"
"My God, My God, why have you forsaken me?"
"Daddy! Where are you? Why did you leave me?"
Jesus took upon Himself all the sins of the world when He hung on the cross that day. Every wrong I've done and you've done was taken from us and transferred to Him. Whether you accept His gift of mercy and grace doesn't matter, Jesus still died for your sins. In that moment, a Son was separated from His Father for the first time in eternity...and it hurt. Because of God's holiness and purity, the Father turned away from the vile sinful mess that His Son had willingly become. Jesus died alone. And that is a love that I find unfathomable.
This was God's plan from the beginning of Time. He knew that we would sin, which would cause us to be eternally separated from Him. But (thank goodness there's a but) because of His great love for us He decided to pay the price, take our sin, and die in our place. As horrible as that is, I can understand it. I look at my own kids and I know that kind of love. What would I not sacrifice to save them? I can even make the mental leap of one of my kids having to sacrifice his life for the good and safety of others. But I can't imagine doing it knowing that I would have to abandon them when they needed me the most. I can't imagine not being there to hold my son's hand as he breathed his last. But that is God's love for me. And that is God's love for you. That is how much we are worth. That is why He is, and will forever be, my Lord and Savior. Thankfully, that;s not the end. Sunday morning God, raised Jesus from the dead proving that when I die, if I love Him, He can raise me too. Because Jesus died, my stains have been cleaned. Because Jesus lives, I have the promise of heaven and the promise of eternity with Him. Why will you be singing this Easter?
Because He lives I can face tomorrow
Because He all fear is gone
Because I know He holds the future
And life is worth the living just because He lives.
