Life has settled back into an everyday pace for us. I love entering into the hidden magic of the everyday… but, somehow, it still manages to allude me. There is something still holding me back from reaping a full measure of joy from my daily life. And I know the why….
… I still have much healing work to do.
It’s not the kind of healing work one sees a Therapist for. It’s a different kind. The spiritual kind. There is only One that knows how to heal what He Himself has broken.
I know that my own ‘crucifixion’ last fall was for my Eternal good… but somehow, that knowledge is far from comforting. It is actually terrifying. Because, if I read between the lines of the story that is my life here, I find a lot more suffering than I ever expected to encounter. And it isn’t the amount nor the actual experience of suffering that I still balk at, it’s what it says about my God.
The Christian God, the Father that was compelled to heap worlds of suffering upon His only begotten Son; the Son who was content to endure it all according to the will of the Father. I still don’t get it.
If the Son suffered in my stead, hellz yeah! I’m all about that! But, it appears to anyone with a set of eyes that undeserved suffering still abounds in the world, and that it touches the lives of both believer and unbeliever.
In Christian Theology, when some concept is beyond our ability to adequately explain, we deem it “a mystery” and move onto something much easier to expound upon. I think that’s pure and utter laziness! We ought to all be grappling with the mysteries, right? If we do not, we are left with a much worn, hand-me down faith that remains outside of our own experience. What use is that kind of faith to those that still suffer?
And so, my unfinished business leaves me suspended between the life I live in the world and the life I live in Him. If wholeness and fullness is His intended work in me, I know there is much work still to be done. But that all important work will remain unfinished as long as I put off entering into the mysteries of my own life and personhood… and I’m not going anywhere until I submit to exploring the mysteries of my own faith as well.
Where does one start this kind of journey towards healing and understanding? Why, at the cross of course! That ancient intersection between what is and what will be.
We Christians talk much about the cross. I’ve talked a lot about the cross. But, to be honest, it no longer holds the same meaning it used to.
I have to go back.
Not as a sinner feeling utterly lost and helpless. But as a spiritual adolescent, on the cusp of maturity, that has grown up and out of all that my elders have taught me. This time, the cross is fixed in my view not out of my own desperation, but out of curiosity.
This cross has become, somehow, in someway, my cross too.