This Lenten season, I've committed to reading/working through Contemplating the Cross: A Pilgrimage of Prayer by Tricia Rhodes. I've started it several times and was always moved by its contents, but never completed the journey. This year I know I must finish the 40-day challenge of prayer, reading, meditation, and contemplation necessary to travel from Gethsemane to the Cross.
This morning's time was deep and painful...meditating on what Jesus was feeling and thinking in the Garden. Tricia writes so beautifully, "We resist looking too intensely at the parts of a story that shake our sheltered belief system. What do we do with a God who breaks down like us? How do we handle His weakness, His desperate pleading, His seeming lack of self-control? Before we rejoice that Jesus chose the Father's will over his own pain, we must look hard at the blood oozing from his pores. Before we wrap his anguish in reasonable explanations, we must comprehend his complete sense of isolation and abandonment. Until we're willing to confront the terrible trauma of Gethsemane, the Cross will exist as a symbol of our religion instead of the very heartbeat of our faith."
Gethsemane has become a very special place for me...a sacred place. I have learned much about the importance of lamenting, and Jesus in the Garden has been my model (along with David in the Psalms). The past few years have provided many opportunities to "go there"... to kneel beside Jesus in my pain and know that He identifies with me. He, too, needed friends with him as he cried out to the Father. His friends failed him, and he wasn't happy about it. Ah yes...we all know that pain. (Though I must say that my nearest and dearest have stuck to me like glue, even when I was weeping, wailing and gnashing my teeth. I don't deserve their loyalty, but I will be forever grateful.)
Christ knew betrayal on so many levels. Jesus felt anguish in his bones, in his sinew, in his soul. Tricia explains, "The language here speaks of both physical pain and mental anguish. Jesus knows not only agony of soul, but feels life itself slipping away as distress distills in his veins....Man of sorrows, acquainted with grief...strange words to describe a Deity. But he had given it all up -- didn't consider equality with God something to cling to....The wretchedness on the face of Christ will play itself out to the bitter end. Anything less would leave God's children hanging in the balance, bound in the slave market of sin's great camp. This he cannot allow."
I spent a good chunk of time this morning taking in the scene. My soul felt weighed down and heavy. I thought about times when I, too, was gripped with agony. It's not difficult for me to call up deep pain, as I still live with it every day; I just choose not to live *in* it, as much as possible. And while my pain is miniscule next to Christ's, I know it is part of sharing in his sufferings. And so I sat with my pain next to his...and was still.
With a heavy heart, I raised my hands in worship, as that was the only response that made any sense to me. Words felt hollow. All I can do is offer myself...my life...my heart...and say, "Yes, Lord; have Your way."
I looked at the clock and realized it was time for me to leave for my first voice lesson with Sam (née Samantha). Sam decided not to hire me to be her studio coordinator. Instead she asked if we could barter -- she would give me free voice lessons if I would come and listen and counsel and nurture her. WHAT? Is this for real? We *did* hit it off immediately when I interviewed with her. She told me she went home to her husband and talked nonstop about me...that she needed someone like me in her life. SERIOUSLY? (Her husband suggested I start a "rent-a-mom" business!) And that she really really wanted to work with me and help me regain all of my voice, and help me fulfill my dream of making a CD. She said all of this in my "rejection letter" for the job. That's a letter I'm saving for sure!
I drove into the city, still feeling the agony of Gethsemane, but with some anticipation (and a little apprehension) of meeting up with Sam again. It all sounded too good to be true; certainly there was a catch somewhere. But no! She was every bit as lovely and gregarious and warm as before. We talked for awhile, breaking down more walls, learning more about each other. And then we got to work on breathing and a few vocal exercises. She was so encouraging! We only had an hour today, but she's blocking out 2 hours for "us" every Thursday...one hour (or so) of talking/sharing, one hour (or so) of voice work. Just pinch me.
I left her studio as if I'd gone from Gethsemane straight to the Resurrection. I'm not sure what the Lord is doing, or why, but He has dropped this lovely young woman into my life who apparently needs a pastor/mother/sister/friend. She sees something in me and knows she needs it. I know ultimately that is Jesus, but I'm taking it slow on that front. I couldn't help but cry as she told me what she saw in me from the first time we met. Out of the mouth of a near-stranger came blessing and healing and love that I needed to hear...it was straight from the heart of God.
How is it possible in this age of consumerism and the all-important dollar that I am getting voice lessons in exchange for...being me? I don't know. It's unfathomable. But we hugged goodbye, expressing appreciation for the gift we are to each other...and I practically skipped to my car.
From agony to ecstasy. What a day!
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