Suffering and Death

But God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us.

St. Mark Presbyterian

Romans 5:8 New International Version

Writing for the DiscoverStMark blog these past few weeks has made my Lenten journey this year something that I will never forget. I highly recommend taking advantage of this relatively new and exceedingly accessible form of communication to express yourself, to help direct and organize your thoughts, and to share your unique perspective with others who share your interests. I had wanted to do a “Future Fridays” series for some time, exploring the possibilities of new communication technology and forms of social media as they become an essential part of living in and spreading the Gospel, but starting it out as a series of Lenten devotionals has been an unexpected joy, helping me to see the topics of my own interest in the light of the season, and it has been a truly rewarding journey.

Now for the hard part. It took me about 10 minutes to write the previous paragraph. I have been working on the next ones for a week.  

I ended my last posting, the one on Jerusalem, with the thought that even though we know what happens next, we know it isn’t the end, and in that we take comfort. But I can find no way around the events of Good Friday, can’t turn my head and walk on by, and can’t pretend that I am somehow not part of this scene. I don’t need to go into the details here; you can find plenty of depictions in art and literature, in martyrdom and symbols, and a marketplace of everything from relics to movies to t-shirts. But why did it have to happen this way? Why is this essential for our salvation?

I don’t know. I trust God in this life and the next, and accept what I do not understand on faith. I can try to make sense of it this way-- in order to accept God’s love, I have to accept that as a human being I am part of a species capable of inflicting great suffering on itself, both individually and collectively. I don’t have to look far for evidence of this-- it seems that it is always Good Friday somewhere on Earth, where we are taking the Love that we are given and nailing it up. Today we stand in front of the cross anticipating an empty tomb, but I don’t think we can get there without truly being here first.

Dear God, we turn to you in times of our own suffering, knowing that we as well cause you pain. We ask for your mercy, and that through you we can show mercy for each other. We give thanks for you for your love, for it is our greatest gift, and for the joy of sharing it in your world. Amen.

Written by and photograph by J. Northip, elder