eclipse

Life is sunny.

Until the rain comes.

Precious family members and sweet friends have recently been pummeled by hospitalizations and serious diagnoses. Each bit of news a bomb leaving craters all around; a community-wide ache like a long line of dreary days.

Perhaps you’ve experienced such days.

Total havoc. No words.

My heart has grown heavy as I’ve attempted to navigate this crater-marked landscape of suffering.

‘Jesus, where are you – in – this?’

Shadows are eclipsing the sun.

Shadows take countless forms: self-reliance, denial, anger, disengagement, loss of hope. Shadows are exceptional liars. They seek to divide and conquer.

Tim Keller, a New York City preacher, was asked to come to Ground Zero and address the topic of suffering on the five-year anniversary of 9-11. I’ve been listening to that sermon ad nauseam as my eyes adjust to the shadows.

Keller opens with a common quandary: if God is good yet cannot stop the suffering of mankind, then he must have limited power. Conversely, if his power is limitless yet he chooses not to stop our suffering then he must not be good.

Keller urges us to look back to the work of the cross when Christ took on our suffering, look forward to his ultimate victory over suffering, and look into the wonder of the gospel — the greatest love story ever told.

In a few days we’ll celebrate Easter. It’s a remembrance of Christ’s willingness to step down from perfect community to enter our broken community.

Have you ever wondered why he often withdrew to lonely places? Sure, it was a way to refuel through prayer. But as I attempt to navigate these craters I’ve come to wonder if a deeper need drove him towards that time with his Good Dad.

Think about it, the more we open our hearts to love the more we expose them to weariness. And there’s never been a more perfect love than his. If I am at times overwhelmed by the crater-marked landscape of suffering, then how much more was he? I only need to look as far as the shortest bible verse –‘Jesus wept’.

This Easter you might be surrounded by bunnies, chocolates and pretty things. You might be dragging from the busyness of holidays. Your heart might be draped in shadows. You might be fighting the notion that you’ve been betrayed.

Dear one, lift your chin to the Son. Squint your eyes to see past the shadows. Cry out to him. Beat your fists against his chest. Take ahold of his pierced hand. Pierced for you. He endured the ultimate suffering so that your suffering can someday be swallowed up in victory.

Unclench your fist. Let it fall into his hand. Go at the craters together. There, only there, will you encounter a miracle – affliction eclipsed by glory.

Laura