But the Cross

What was Lazarus’s job in the miracle? To be dead. 

That comment came from a conversation I had with a friend several weeks ago. I haven’t been able to undo the words - especially as the weeks that followed have led me to a place where I feel like the Walking Dead. 

The edges of me are pain and fray and the insides are hollowness and death. 

It’s like forgetting how to feel anything but deep sadness. And sometimes, only numbness reigns. 

Being told “Just have faith” is a placation that made me rage and more hurt because clearly the voice behind those words has never seen what it feels like to look into the abyss. Never had to depend on the simple words “I’ll believe it for you until you can again.” 

It’s like being locked in a dark cave feeling your way without a light, without a hope of exit and finally stopping to sit and wait for the King to come. 

But He’s coming. I hear rumor that the Lion is coming. 

There is always hope. 

This, the phrase that rings in my ears and bounces around my mind with other far more insidious and accusatory thoughts. Feelings of worthlessness, brokennes, devastation and pain...but somewhere - somewhere deeply there is a warm glow just out of sight. “There is always hope.” 

It’s Easter this week. And I’ve been thinking about it a lot. In the midst of a deep sorrow, I have been listening to Kari Jobe’s new album “Majestic” and there’s a beautifully rich song about the Savior who Overcomes death. I’ve wept through it, sighed through it, screamed through it, and felt numb through it. But one theme remains....That story - THAT CROSS - that’s my hope.

Then I read this post by Ann Voskamp. And I remembered. 
Nothing cannot be redeemed at the foot of the Cross. 

Deep sorrow. Pain. Numbness. Apathy. Hurt. Brokenness. 
All at the foot of the cross. 

Falling to pieces. Alone in the darkness. 
At the foot of the cross

And I listened to this song. Five times in a row. 
And I remembered. Hope. 

Easter week and it hurts. And it is Hard. 
But I’m in pieces at the foot of the cross. 
And that's ok. 
It's ok to be in pieces. wounded. bleeding. 
He bleeds with me. He Bled for me. 
And I think there is hope for Redemption. 

Lazarus's job was to be dead. I am. 
But the Cross. 

Easter is coming. So is My King. 
Rescue is on its way. 


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