Words Are Hard

I blogged a week and a half ago.  Except the post never made it to it's published state.  I was blogging from my iPad on vacation.  Technology and I are not the greatest of friends.  (If you are reading between the lines here is what you heard:  I was too dumb to figure out how to blog from my iPad and I possibly said swear words in my head.)

Anyway.  I fully intended to finish/publish that vacation post.  And I will, sometime.  It's a fun post and it lets me relive a gorgeous day in Georgia.  But tonight I need to blog about something else entirely.

I've been taking a class at church on Tuesday nights and I love it.  It's not an easy class in it's subject matter (where is God in the midst of suffering) but it's delightful in the people who are attending and the pastor who is teaching it.  It's a safe space for discussion and being heard.

Except I super suck at classroom discussion.  I'm great at listening to everyone else voice their ideas and I'm storing it away for later.  You know, when I can type out what I'm thinking in a clear and concise (I hope) manner.  But putting words out there on the spot?  I'm terrible at it.

Tonight we talked about giving space for lament.  About how we are not so great at it.

Two sentences on our handout really struck me.

"To sing "happy songs" in the face of evil and suffering is a very different reality than the Bible reveals."  Have you read the Psalms?

"To withhold the public witness of lament is to minimize the possible transformation of a community through its testimony."  When someone shares their struggles, either as a speaker to many or in a one on one situation, I am always moved.  I am made more aware of God's presence, made more aware of our need of Him.

And yet I still find myself shying away from lament.  Maybe not of listening to yours but of voicing mine.

On Sunday I was teaching  the 6th grade girls Sunday school class.  We had a special two week series and part of that was talking about emotions.  The curriculum had this to say "Each night when you go to bed, it's a great idea to think back over your day and name the feelings of the day and tell Jesus.  Remember that Jesus is with us in good times and bad."

This is such a simple thought but I also think it would be a very freeing exercise.  I'm quick to name the good feelings but the yucky ones?  Not so much.

But the yucky feelings are just as important as the good ones.  Have you seen the movie Inside Out?  Holy moly.  That movie hits the emotional nail on the head.  Please pause your life until you've watched it.  And don't be ashamed if you cry, I did.

Back to tonight. 

Pastor Brian showed us two images.  One of an empty cross.

And one of a cross filled with a bloodied and dying man.

And we asked ourselves this question:  Do I avoid the suffering of the cross in haste of the empty tomb?"

My hand needs to go straight up.  I want the party but none of the preparation it took to get there.  The preparation is H.A.R.D.

When I was looking at the images tonight my eyes were drawn to the empty, cleaned up cross.  It's a symbol of celebration.  My Jesus conquered death!  That is something to get excited about and excitement has it's place.

But so does sorrow.  When I made myself look at the bloodied Jesus my eyes instantly filled with tears.  When I think of how he was bloodied, the whips, the crown of thorns, the spear.  Oh my.

When I think of why he was bloodied I am undone.  It was for me.

Because he loved every quirky, weird, introverted, complicated part of me he took the whip and the crown and the nails and the spear.

Oh my.

So, as we get closer to Easter, I want to sit with the sorrow.  I want, I need, to make space for lament.  To embrace the full story and not rush ahead to the happy ending.  To explore each emotion and name it.  To talk to Jesus about it.

Will you slow down with me?  Let's stop and allow ourselves to feel.  To feel the crushing weight of sorrow at how Jesus was brutalized.  To feel the awe that he did it because of his depth of love for us.  To feel the passion of wanting to give ourselves back to him.  To feel the excitement of the empty tomb.

Let's honor Jesus this Easter by fully engaging in his story of redemption.

It is, after all, for each one of us.