Entering this week, beginning this journey from the gates of Jerusalem to the empty tomb in the garden, has me emotionally wrecked. Sure, I’m tired which undoubtedly contributes to it. And mix in some stress from the demands of life and ministry, my daughter turning 13, and going with my son to Andrew Peterson’s Resurrection Letters concert, and I find myself navigating tears that have been an unexpected, although not unfamiliar companion. I’ve found myself regularly undone. Then, there are the things I’ve done and the things I’ve left undone. Then, there is Jesus, who beckons us to spend this week with him. To follow, to watch and pray. It’s a living story that I can’t shake. And it’s shaking me in a profound way this year.
There is so much beauty, suffering, mystery, comfort, and awe that we are immersed into this week. The question is, are we opening the doors of our story to let this other story in? We are a guarded people. We have erected walls of schedules, responsibilities, worries, self-sufficiency, the fear of being alone, forgotten, or too much, fears of being seen and known, maybe even the vulnerability of our weakness and pain. And lest we forget, the stoutest walls of all, walls of shame. Friend, let me tell you this week is for you.
For those of you that don’t know, I was asked to join the staff of our Lutheran church as the Youth Ministry Director and the Adult Faith Formation Coordinator. This role began after Holy Week about a year ago. One of my responsibilities is helping the youth prepare for the Maundy Thursday service where we will invite the congregation to join us on a journey that takes us through the upper room and into the darkness of the garden of Gethsemane. At the conclusion of the service, which in some ways I am dreading. I will read the narrative of Jesus’ betrayal which ends with the words “then the disciples left him and fled.” The act of typing those 7 words wrecks me, never mind having to read that to the congregation on Thursday night and maintain any sense of composure. But then again, is that a bad thing? To wash the feet of Jesus with our tears might be something we all need.
Jesus asked his disciples, his closest friends to stay with him, watch and pray. Yet, in their fear they fled. How often we have seen ourselves in the disciples. We have wrestled with faith. We have been fickle. Our devotion has wavered. We are conditioned towards self preservation. We are terrified of being alone. Yet the disciples left the side of the one who had come to never leave or forsake them. Yet, they run. How often have we failed to stay awake, to watch and pray?
Curt Thompson said in a recent conference I attended that
“anxiety is the catastrophic anticipation of aloneness.”
I think this is exactly what Jesus’ sorrow in the garden is rooted in. Being forsaken. Forsaken by those whom he cared for. Forsaken by his father in a few hours. Then there is this thief on the cross next to the one Jesus is nailed to. What’s his fear? Being alone. Yet, Jesus in his agony, experiencing the unfathomable depths of forsakenness, says to this criminal, not a disciple, not a friend, “I’ve got you. I won’t leave you alone.” God in the flesh, upon the cross, his eyes full of suffering and sorrow, yet that steadfast love that never ceases as he takes the thief’s sin, the disciples’ abandonment, our sin upon himself. And then the light in those eyes goes out. The light of the world is extinguished. Jerusalem goes dark. His body is taken to a tomb in the dead of night. Yet, dawn is coming.
Mary Magdalene, whom Jesus had cared for, finds her grieving interrupted by of all people, some gardener in the graveyard. But when he calls her by name, it’s a call which goes deeper than simple recognition. It’s the call of being fully known and seen. It’s the voice of the one who calls beauty into existence. She’s seen with eyes that are full of mercy, justice, forgiveness, and love that burn with “the deeper magic from before the dawn of time” as C.S. Lewis might say. At the dawning of new creation, it’s fitting that life reigns in a place that was reserved for death. He is making all things new as wakes up from his rest to cultivate his new creation. The chaos of death is undone in a moment.
That’s the story of Holy Week. As Curt Thompson says, we are people of great desire and longing, a people of grief, and ultimately a people of beauty. This is the resurrection story. That is the beauty of who Jesus is. The one who watches and prays, even when we fail to stay awake. Who looks through our eyes into the depths of who we are to say, “I’ve got you.” That’s what this week is all about. The Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world, the Lion of Judah who has conquered death, the Gardener who is cultivating his people and all of creation. Our King who is coming again for us. To him who is worthy, be all blessing and honor and glory and might for ever and ever! Amen.
At the concert on Friday night, Andrew Peterson encouraged us regarding Holy Week to “go to all the services.” I hope you can find a place to worship and reflect, and open your heart to this beautiful story. Hold fast dear friends, dawn is on the way.