Where Are You?

She slips from my lap and picks up her Jesus Storybook Bible.*  She hands it to me, saying, “Carry please, Mama.”

I say, “Sure!” as we head out the gate and toward the bathroom.

She settles in on the floor as I pull out a floss pick. 

She calls out to me, “Papa?  Where are you?”

Photo by David Barless, used with permission.

I know just what she is referring to.  They are words from the story of the crucifixion.  I turn around and face her on the floor, flipping to the familiar illustration.  (Jesus is on the cross, battered and bruised with a crown of thorns on his head and a tear falling from his eye.  Above him a sign reads “Our King.”)

She turns her head toward mine with a familiar request on her lips. “Read.”

I pull her up on my lap, there on the bathroom floor, and begin halfway through the story.

“They nailed Jesus to the cross.

“Father forgive them,” Jesus gasped.  “They don’t understand what they’re doing.”

“You say you’ve come to rescue us!” people shouted.  “But you can’t even rescue yourself!”

But they were wrong.  Jesus could have rescued himself.  A legion of angels would have flown to his side—if he’d called.

“If you were really the Son of God, you could just climb down off that cross!”  they said.

And of course they were right.  Jesus could have just climbed down.  Actually, he could have just said a word and made it all stop.  Like when he healed that little girl.”    - The Jesus Storybook Bible, p. 304

Here we pause.  

We revisit the story that we read the night before in the front room.  Jairus, the little girl’s daddy had come to Jesus.  I ask if she remembers how Jesus went to the little girl and called her from death to life saying, “Honey, it’s time to get up.”  She nods and says, “Breakfast.”  "Yes,"  I affirm.  “He asks her if she would like some breakfast.  How about you?  Are you hungry for breakfast?” I ask her with a little smile and a friendly poke.

She says again, “Read.”  And so I do. 

“He could have just said a word and made it all stop.  Like when he healed that little girl.  And stilled the storm.  And fed 5,000 people. 
But Jesus stayed.

You see, they didn’t understand.  It wasn’t the nails that kept Jesus there.  It was love.”  - The Jesus Storybook Bible, p. 304

It was love.  I pause here.  I soak it in. 

The nails in his hands.  The nails in his feet.  The thorns.  The shame.  They speak of his love. 

He could have made it stop.  But he didn’t. 

The people didn’t understand, then. 

Do I understand, now? 

I don’t know.

I keep reading.

“Papa?” Jesus cried, frantically searching the sky.

“Papa?  Where are you?  Don’t leave me!”

And for the first time—and the last—when he spoke, nothing happened.  Just a horrible endless silence.  God didn’t answer.  He turned away from his Boy.  – The Jesus Storybook Bible, p. 304

Oh, this moment. 

I think of my Little Love and the way she often calls out playfully from her room these days, “Daddy, where are you?” 

She knows her daddy will come looking for her.  She expects it.  She looks forward to it.  It brings her comfort, peace and such joy to know her daddy will respond. 

Here, Jesus’ daddy doesn't respond.  The Father turns his face away.  He turns away from the Son He loves.  With the picture of my girl in my mind, I find my heart breaking.  Oh, this moment.

“Tears rolled down Jesus’ face.  The face of the One who would wipe away every tear from every eye.” – The Jesus Storybook Bible, p. 304

My Little Love, she looks at with me with concern written all over her face and says, “Cryin'.”  Yes, dear.  Crying.

I can’t imagine she grasps the fullness of this, yet.  How could she?  I am still not sure I do.  But it is amazing to me that she does get that this is a moment to pause.  She tenderly wants to reach out in comfort as she sees Jesus’ hurting face and hears of His tears.

We turn the page.

“Even though it was midday, a dreadful darkness covered the face of the world.  The sun could not shine.  The earth trembled and quaked.  The great mountains shook.  Rocks split in two.  Until it seemed that the whole world would break.  That creation itself would tear apart.

The full force of the storm of God’s fierce anger at sin was coming down.  On his own Son.  Instead of his people.  It was the only way God could destroy sin, and not destroy his children whose hearts were filled with sin.”  -The Jesus Storybook Bible, p.306 

As I read of this storm raging, I feel it.  I feel so very aware of the many ways I have messed up and do mess up—so very aware of the sinful heart that God was seeking to save.  I think of the words of Paul: “For our sake he made him to be sin who knew no sin, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God.”  -2 Corinthians 5:21, ESV  

God loved his creation—the people made in his image—so much that he was willing to give his Son to destroy sin and not his children whose hearts were filled with it.  How deep the Father’s love for us. 

How deep the Father’s love for me.  The thought makes me tremble inside.

Then Jesus shouted in a loud voice, “It is finished!”

And it was.  He had done it.  Jesus had rescued the whole world.

“Father!” Jesus cried.  “I give you my life.”

Strange clouds and shadows filled the sky.  Purple, orange, black.  Like a bruise.

Jesus friends gently carried Jesus.  They laid Jesus in a new tomb carved out of rock.

How could Jesus die?  What had gone wrong?  What did it mean?  They didn’t know anything anymore.  Except they did know their hearts were breaking.” –The Jesus Storybook Bible, p. 306

Jesus speaks words of power. And then he dies? This doesn’t really seem like a rescue. 

The storm that has been raging suddenly seems to calm—like when Jesus stilled the storm.  Yet this calm seems awful and ugly.  I feel numb. 

In this moment, I am with the disciples wondering, “How could this happen?  Wasn’t Jesus the Rescuer?  The King God had promised?  It wasn’t supposed to end like this.”*  

Then, I remember.  It doesn’t end like this.
 

Jesus is not dead.  He is alive!

I look at my Little Love and tell her, “It doesn’t end here!  Jesus rises.  He is alive!”  She giggles.

It was for the joy that was set before him that Jesus endured the cross—the joy of relationship with us, the joy of relationship with me. 

I think of the lyrics from Matt Maher’s song 'Christ is Risen': “Oh death!   Where is your sting?  Oh hell!  Where is your victory?  Oh church!  Come stand in the light!  Our God is not dead.  He’s alive!  He’s alive!”

I smile and pull her close saying, “This is good news!”

She wiggles out of my arms.  I let go of her and stand up, turning towards the sink to grab my tooth brush. 

I notice the morning sun shining.  Its bright light is pouring in right where I am standing; and I can't help but continue to hum to myself, "He's alive!  He's alive!"

***

“Now unto him that is able to keep you from falling, and to present you faultless before the presence of his glory with exceeding joy, To the only wise God our Saviour, be glory and majesty, dominion and power, both now and ever. Amen.” –Jude 1:24-25, KJV

***

Grace and peace be ours in abundance this Good Friday as we remember the depth of the Father’s love for us and this Easter as we remember—Jesus is risen, He is risen, indeed!  May we take joy in the hope that we have through His death and resurrection.  When we come to Him, Jesus takes our sinful hearts and presents us faultless before the presence of His glory with exceeding joy.   We are so very loved.

Jessica :)

P.S.  I highly recommend The Jesus Storybook Bible if you do not already own a copy.  It is published by Zondervan. © 2012. The story referenced throughout this post is called 'The sun stops shining,' pages 302-309.  The thoughts I shared along with the disciples are from p. 310.

The photos in this post are from Badlands National Park, South Dakota in July 2010.  We got up to watch the sunrise.  The first two were taken by Jason and the third by me. 

It Is Well

When I think of you, I remember a younger me. 

I remember many times when we sat with Marie and our friends, Bibles open and talking about it.  In the early days, Molly and I perfected the art of avoiding eye contact with Marie so we didn't have to share first.  The awkwardness between new people faded over the years to where it would be hard to believe that we didn't always share secrets and struggles and the things that good friends do. We all enjoyed each other so well.  You always spoke straight from the heart and got straight to the point with your wondering and sharing and confronting.  Wise woman.  I learned about praying out loud, during those years, with you and with our friends. 

I remember squeezing into Marie's Toyota Paseo, so many different times.  Mostly, I remember there was enough room for everyone as we drove home; but occasionally, we packed in like sardines—like the time we kidnapped Molly for her birthday.  I think you were on crutches and got to sit up front because of your injured leg.  We went back to Marie’s place, the one with the breakfast nook, for dinner.  Afterwards, I remember us cheering with Deborah during Return from Snowy River,  "Go Jim go!"  We cheered for the dashing hero on his black stallion.
  
There were other movies too, like The Shawshank Redemption and The Great Escape, during sleepovers.  There were also many musicals and plays at Walnut and Finneytown.  On our way to watch Ellen in Godspell, I remember talking about whether the note I received from Will during study hall meant anything; in it he had drawn my profile and written about "the North girl."
  
What fun times those were!

I went looking for a particular photo of our small group last week.  I never found it.  But Molly did!

I found a photo from Resident Camp, instead.  I remember eating with your campers while I served on Girls Crew.  You were such a wonderful counselor.

I remember having gym class together too.  I was so relieved to know someone else that first day.  I think it must have been with Mr. Christoph, because I remember being on mats tumbling and talking with you, Lindsay, and Tiphanie.  If I am remembering correctly, I think we spent the beginning of the semester lamenting our lack of volleyball skills.  Very few of us did well on the bumping and setting tests. 

You always seemed so comfortable with who you were.  I think that is pretty rare in a middle school or high school student.  You made me feel like I could be me around you, the me that was still trying to figure out who I really was—even if that meant you were witness to ridiculous dance choreography in the bathroom just down the hall from the lunchroom.  We laughed about it, but I never felt foolish for sharing that piece of me with you. (Though, now, I would like to groan that I ever thought that was remotely cool. Oh well!)

That was a precious gift you gave me then.

I did not know I could really live authentically until years later.  But years later, I do know that is the best way to really live, even if it sometimes feels very risky.  If we are never fully known, we can never be fully loved.  You were known and loved, friend.

It seems such a long time since those days. 

Life seldom brought us together since then. (Those few moments when it did were sweet).  From afar, I loved watching your adventures.  You seemed to have such a “seize the day” way of living.  It took you all over the world.  You found so many kindred spirits, touched so many lives.  I know we are all richer for knowing you.  I am.

Now, you are gone. 

(You, who were always so full of life and laughter and making things beautiful—can it really be?)

It reminds me that this world is broken and of my longing for home.  It makes me long for the day when all will be made right.  In that place, in the presence of Jesus, you are whole again.  Sickness does not have the last word, neither does death.  For that, I am so very thankful.

I remember Marie sharing this passage from 1 Peter about character with me. 

“Wives, in the same way submit yourselves to your own husbands so that, if any of them do not believe the word, they may be won over without words by the behavior of their wives, when they see the purity and reverence of your lives. Your beauty should not come from outward adornment, such as elaborate hairstyles and the wearing of gold jewelry or fine clothes. Rather, it should be that of your inner self, the unfading beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which is of great worth in God’s sight. For this is the way the holy women of the past who put their hope in God used to adorn themselves. They submitted themselves to their own husbands, like Sarah, who obeyed Abraham and called him her lord. You are her daughters if you do what is right and do not give way to fear.”   – 1 Peter 3:3-6 

I think it is especially the last line that makes me think of it now. 

“You are her daughters if you do what is right and do not give way to fear.” 

What a courageous woman you were, my friend.  You faced months of treatment, friends and family beside you, near and far, praying.  You did not give way to fear. 

I want to live like that too! 

These were God’s words to Joshua and the people of Israel as they entered the Promised Land: 

“Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged, for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go.” – Joshua 1:9

The road ahead of Israel was full of promise in the midst of difficulty.  In the midst of all of this, God told them not to fear, he would be right there.  He would not leave of forsake them.  What words of hope!  What words of comfort!  

God goes with us wherever we go. 

You must have taken hold of God’s promises in the midst of such difficulty. 

His promises are the springs of life that keep us going.

I believe that our names tell us something about who we are. 

Your namesake was loyal, determined, strong and brave—like you.  She, too, was no stranger to difficulty. 

You know what?  Her story doesn’t end in death, it ends in life.  It ends with a redeemer. 

So does your story, Ruth.  Because Jesus lives, so will you. 

Because of all this, it is well. 

***

Grace and peace be ours in abundance as we trust in the promises of God.  May we cling to Jesus as our sure hope in the face of sin and guilt and death.  May we trust that His resurrection life will right all the wrongs and make all things new.  Because of this we can say it is well.

Jessica