I’ll be honest, I pretty much forgot it was Good Friday until I read this blog. And honestly I just want to cry as I sit and write this in class. A line stood out to me:
Today, everything falls away and there is only Jesus for me. In His presence, my numb, angry heart gives way and I sob without end. But only with Him. Elsewhere, I have to be careful because I can never be as vulnerable as I was ever again. Everyone else at arm’s length. I’ll be friendly with folks but never again tender. You’ll get the strong, varnished version of me but I’ll not make the mistake of handing you my true heart.
That is me in this moment. I look back on my old posts from this year and smile glibly at the Rebecca who was dying to open up to people and be vulnerable. And she did it, she was vulnerable, and parts of it were beautiful… but other parts were oh so painful as I took hit after hit this year.
With every misunderstanding, with every misfired word, with every disappointment, with every unfulfilled expectation, with every crushed dream… I felt that grand, new version of myself wither and crawl inwards in a vain attempt to hide once more.
Too late, too many people see me. Too many people have the power to hurt me. It is terrifying and it is sacred all at once. People have hurt me, those closest to me have wounded me, but how can I blame them? I have hurt them too, we are only human after all.
There are two sides to me, a Jekyll and a Hyde. Hyde wants to become angry, drop everything, foster bitterness, and run away. Hyde wants to tell me “I told you so, I told you they would hurt you. I told you that you could trust no one. I told you, DID I NOT TELL YOU.” But Jekyll, blessed little Jekyll fights to keep my heart soft and tender. She fights to care for others, she fights as she tries to keep her weary eyes fixed on her Creator. She whispers to Him, I trust you with this. She holds her fraying and worn heart out to Him as she struggles forward. Take this, take this from me and keep it safe. Mend it. Keep it tender and alive.
With every step Jekyll takes forward, Hyde’s insecurities grow louder and louder. It is a battle. It is a struggle for a heart that just wants to get back to the place of uncontainable, uncontrollable, and unfathomable joy.
On this Good Friday, I sit in the ashes of broken trust and disappointment, and I mourn. I mourn the parts of me that have died. I mourn the sinfulness I cycle through. I mourn that my stubbornness and pride are nails that had pinned my Jesus to the cross.
But I wait, I wait for the resurrection. I hope for the better things to come. I wait for these dry bones to be filled with life again.
But for those of you hunkered down on Good Friday, identifying with the loss of this day in agonizing ways, ways that you did not want to understand the cross, I am your sister this year. When too many things still feel dead and resurrection feels as unlikely and impossible as it must have on this day all those years ago, I can’t help but believe Jesus has his eye on us specifically. Who can better understand the cross than the man who chose it? Who better to hold us close in our loneliness than the man who was left to suffer all alone? Nobody, not one human being on this earth understands a dark Friday more than Jesus, well before anyone thought to put a “Good” in front of it.
-Soli Deo Gloria