What We Can Forget About The Cross And Resurrection

The plane descends from the heavens, and the ground thickens as the clouds pour out their initiation to Spring.

Sprigs of purple, pink.  Weeping trees bending at the glory of it all.  Fruit promised from the blooms we see…if ground doesn’t freeze, sun and rain keep dancing in perfect harmony.

And I want fruit.  Don’t you?

Another night, I see His feet tap hard up the dirty street. The weight of wood, the sin’s of generations baring down, pressing hard, on this Good Friday.

Mary watching.  And what if that was my son?  My soul compassion?  My flesh and bone who confused what the prophet told.  “Suffering would come with this baring of the Christ-child.”

But, who knew that He would die?  And I would live?  This Savior child, generation after generation waiting, having been hailed fiercely with palm leaves, just a few days earlier?

The nights seem darker.  Evenings brighter.  A world looking, hurting, aching for someone…something more.  Needing more than promises or good intentions.

And yet, our eyes shift to Easter eggs, draw towards bunny rabbits and sunny things.  For we all prefer day than the night that came and crucified Him.

I mean, who really likes talking about piercings, and beatings, and swords spilling water-blood anyway?

I can almost feel the earth shake, like it did back then.  The moment even the doubters sensed that Jesus was more than man, but a gift.  A gift to us all…we failed to see.  Failed to trust. Failed to love.

And where were the men Jesus devoted himself to? The ones He discipled and loved?  And yet, don’t we invest in others and expect some return?  Aren’t we hailed one day, and get bitter and angry when they pierce us soon after?

The weather says spring is here.  The early rising says days are getting longer, winter’s deepest darkening is over.  And we all want sunshine, brighter days.  But who has time or wants to feel the weight of a Savior lain crucified for us?

They wrapped Him in cloth. Oh to touch a son, or the Savior incarnate who delivered us from the darkest nightmare plaguing us.

And how do we wrap what was beloved?  Lay hold the lifelessness of The One who once was adored, and treasured, and followed. Wishing we could make Him rise, but knowing we lack, in human form, in will alone, any standing strength.

For some days, just making beds, and cleaning dishes, and folding stacks again of clothes that will be
dug through, changed into, can sometimes bring discouragement.

And we all want the resurrection, but we forget that Jesus got lower, more silent, more willing, the closer to the cross He got.

And I want my walk to Calvary to be one where flesh doesn’t cry out, but dies willingly at all costs.  So those near me can see His power taking me to the place where only God can get the credit for breathing in this well-worn body.

I want my life to lay down.  My hands and feet be pierced, if it means I too will stand, tall, strong, valiant in victory, like He did, three days later.

And, as the passover bows me low.  As this rain keeps pouring and colors bloom all along fruit trees promising hope….I hold on for a few more days.  A few more darkest nights.  A few more strong silences after the earthquake of life shakes all I am standing on….

For, this laying-low ending is the preface of something bigger.  This dead-to-life is the power we need to bypass the weight of this rain continually pouring…

And this life is the fruit, and the doubts get drowned when we realize laying down us is the key to fullness of life we have all been seeking.

For this passover, His weight gets heavier.  But mine, lighter.  His feet hit dirt, while mine are well groomed, carefully shoed, and are clean from the sins I once willfully committed.

I mourn for my beloved, knowing it was the weight of the worlds sin, my sin, that pierced Him to the cross, and stopped the world as He cried out, “Forgive them.”

But I also know, death couldn’t hold Him.  A thousand demons couldn’t keep Him from this redemption plan that shines life from the tomb after the crucifix.

So, we wait, but we wait with hope.  Because sun alone won’t make flowers bloom, fruit fountain from the trees outside.

We need both the crucifixion and  the new life given by Him at His resurrection.  We need the death, to testify that God alone was the redeeming goodness behind the grave’s lies.  We need the sorrow, the last breath, the hoping, our Jesus calling…

To run to the tomb.  To touch His scared hands.  To see Him ascend in the fullness of who He really is…both in and through us.

Seeing, Jesus is so much more than a man, human….He is our Savior, the Resurrected One, God incarnate. The fullness of Heaven’s Redemption Plan.

Yes, the plane has landed.  And summer is coming.  Fruit will bloom.  And rain always prefaces seasons of plenty.

(Linking with Faith Filled Fridays,  Barbie @ Weekend Brew