I
InThePew
Guest
There’s a line from Psalm 74 which has kept coming back to me over these past couple of weeks: “we have no sign from God, no priest no prophet to tell us how long it will last.” That pretty much sums up how most of us feel and so seems eerily appropriate.
We’re struggling with something beyond our ability to control let alone understand something that has shaken our sense of security and self-assuredness to its foundations. We’ve suffered the loss of so much we’d taken for granted, stripped away almost overnight.
This is how the disciples would have felt; their hopes shattered, dreams destroyed in only hours, now nailed to the cross with Christ. Undoubtedly, they would have asked how this could happen; how something which showed so much promise could end so horrifically, how one who showed so much love could be brought to so brutal an end.
The question which we like them are ultimately asking is “where is God?” Why doesn’t he do something instead of standing around idly. Is he lazy, ignorant, incompetent, or just not there? We want answers but struggle to find them in the usual places - reason isn’t much help right now. Nothing makes sense in a world of chaos. If we want to know what really lasts, we need to look at the cross and see love, see sacrifice, see suffering for us and for the whole world.
From the cross, comes gentle words of calm amidst the storm which surrounds us, because of the cross we know that death is not the end, that love will always be stronger than death. If Christ has conquered death how much more can he conquer our fears, our anxieties, our uncertainties which loom all too large. The hard part is trusting that God is in control, that we have not been forgotten, will never be forgotten however helpless our situation might seem.
As we stand at the foot of the cross, we look up at the one who stretched out his arms to embrace the whole world. Through him, we find the comfort we cry out for, the hope we so desperately desire. Knowing, trusting, believing in the one who bears our sorrows, carries our burdens, shares our suffering and will come at last to wipe away every tear from our eyes leading us home to him.
We’re struggling with something beyond our ability to control let alone understand something that has shaken our sense of security and self-assuredness to its foundations. We’ve suffered the loss of so much we’d taken for granted, stripped away almost overnight.
This is how the disciples would have felt; their hopes shattered, dreams destroyed in only hours, now nailed to the cross with Christ. Undoubtedly, they would have asked how this could happen; how something which showed so much promise could end so horrifically, how one who showed so much love could be brought to so brutal an end.
The question which we like them are ultimately asking is “where is God?” Why doesn’t he do something instead of standing around idly. Is he lazy, ignorant, incompetent, or just not there? We want answers but struggle to find them in the usual places - reason isn’t much help right now. Nothing makes sense in a world of chaos. If we want to know what really lasts, we need to look at the cross and see love, see sacrifice, see suffering for us and for the whole world.
From the cross, comes gentle words of calm amidst the storm which surrounds us, because of the cross we know that death is not the end, that love will always be stronger than death. If Christ has conquered death how much more can he conquer our fears, our anxieties, our uncertainties which loom all too large. The hard part is trusting that God is in control, that we have not been forgotten, will never be forgotten however helpless our situation might seem.
As we stand at the foot of the cross, we look up at the one who stretched out his arms to embrace the whole world. Through him, we find the comfort we cry out for, the hope we so desperately desire. Knowing, trusting, believing in the one who bears our sorrows, carries our burdens, shares our suffering and will come at last to wipe away every tear from our eyes leading us home to him.