Pt.2 - The Joy of Being Wrong...

The story continues…Sometimes, it’s so good to be wrong…

When I read the end of Luke, what strikes me most is the incredible joy – the joy of the women, the joy of the disciples, and the joy of Jesus himself. I can just imagine his huge smile as the disciples see him and realize who he is. I picture him laughing at them a little when they are afraid he is a ghost, so he calls out, “Bring me something to eat!” What a wonderful reunion. And how satisfying to finally be able to tell them, “See! This is what I’ve been talking about this whole time!”

The realization of who Jesus truly is and what he really did produces uncontainable joy. Luke says, “They stayed continually at the temple, praising God.” How could they do anything else! They had just witnessed the impossible – God died, then came back to life! It had been right there in front of them their whole lives, written in the Scriptures they had been raised on, but they never really saw it until then. How amazing to see everything you had ever hoped for fulfilled right before your very eyes. A few days earlier they thought everything had come crashing to the ground in a tragic end…But it was just the beginning! The cross is love and its fruit is joy.

Love of the Cross

Today I was reading the passage in Luke about Jesus’ trial and crucifixion. I have read and heard that story hundreds of times; I have seen the graphic portrayal in paintings and on film. But today it was different, and today I cried. I don’t know why it was different today, but it broke my heart. I was so sad thinking about the people rejecting Jesus when all he ever did was accept them. They hated him when he loved them. They insulted him when he blessed them. They shouted for his blood and he was silent. He stood there and just took it – all of it. I felt so sorry for him. I felt sorry for Him. How strange that sounds, that I, a weak creature, felt sorry for him, the all-powerful Creator! But it’s true. The Bible says that he made himself nothing. He put himself so low that I was able to feel sorry for him.

I cried as I read the people’s shouts to crucify him. I cried as he hung on the cross. And I cried as he breathed his last and then was laid to rest. I thought about how quickly the people forgot their joy over Jesus’ coming, how even his closest friends deserted him. And I thought about how I forget him so quickly and turn my back and crucify him. It was my sin that held him there. I thought about the people’s shouts of, “Save yourself! If you’re really the Christ, come down off the cross!” I thought of how tempting that must have been and how easy it would have been to do. How much easier to save himself than to stay on the cross! I can imagine Jesus forcing himself to stay there. The nails didn’t keep him there – he chose to be there. He did something much more powerful that day than come off a cross – as if three nails and a piece of wood could contain the God of the universe! No, he, God himself, died. Again, this makes no sense! But he made himself nothing – absolutely nothing. What this fully means is beyond imagining.

Go loves us, loves me, so much that he gave everything. He knew I would be unfaithful, he knew we would turn our backs on him, but he still died for us. He knew Peter would deny him and that the disciples would scatter, but he still loved them. He is so faithful – so loving.

I know that the next part of the story is the Resurrection and that my tears will soon turn to joy, but I will leave that for tomorrow. For now, I think it is good to meditate on Christ’s death. I think that I can see God’s love even more clearly through my tears at the foot of the cross.