By God's grace, I have called myself a Christian most of my life. I have believed that "God so loved the world he gave his only son" from a very young age. I have acknowledged that I am a sinner, that we all sin, that we all fall short of the glory of God. I have understood that the price for sin is death, even spiritual death that separates us from our creator God. I have rejoiced that the story doesn't end with our sin, but is interrupted and rewritten by his sacrifice. I have been glad that Jesus paid this death-price and made a way for us to come into God's kingdom, with forgiveness. I have tried to walk in love to others because of how great his love is for me. I have worked to comprehend the enormity of this amazing, unprecedented, unmerited grace.
Yet I have struggled. I have questioned God's goodness and wondered about the truth of his love. I have wrestled with a question that so many before me have pondered. If the Bible is true, if God loves us so much, why on earth does he allow so many awful things to happen? "For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, so that everyone who believes in him will not perish but have eternal life...God's light came into the world, but people loved darkness more than the light, for their actions were evil." (John 3:16, 19) God sent his Son to save us, and yet evil remains. When I consider God is offering eternal life and forgiveness to everyone, including those who choose evil--those who have betrayed the trust of a child, stolen her innocence, changed the entire course of her life, or refused to protect her--I am angry. I question how this can be, that God loves me, and yet allows these sins to go unpunished.
And then I remember.
But he was pierced for our rebellion,
crushed for our sins.
He was beaten so we could be whole.
He was whipped so we could be healed.
These sins have not gone unpunished. Christ's death, his pain and suffering, not only forgave the sins I have committed--lies I have told, the covetousness of my heart, or the ways that I, like a sheep, have strayed away and left God's path to follow my own. His pain and suffering, and ultimately his death, was also punishment for the sins that have been committed against me. When I ask, "God, how could you forgive this awful wickedness? How could you not cry out for justice on my behalf?" He answers, "I did."
Yet it was our weaknesses he carried;
it was our sorrows that weighed him down.
And we thought his troubles were a punishment from God,
a punishment for his own sins!
I am looking for justice, seeking to understand how a God of love could allow such a thing to happen, and it has been in front of me all along. My weakness, my sorrow, the grief I carry because of the sins committed against me--Christ took the punishment for those sins, too. How have I not ever seen this before? He did not abuse me, and yet he bore the whip and the crown of thorns and the weight of the cross in the place of the man who did. Every swing of the hammer toward his nail-pierced hands bears the weight of the sin and sorrow and grief inflicted upon me. When Christ is beaten and mocked for crimes he didn't commit, and offers his forgiveness, how can I withhold it?
He had done no wrong and had never deceived anyone.
But he was buried like a criminal;
he was put in a rich man's grave.
Although he was innocent, Christ took the punishment for those sins. For the sins of a sick man, who abused innocent children. For the sins of a mother, who did not cover her young. For the sins of a father, who sought only his own will. Christ was beaten, spit upon, and mocked for the pain and the suffering that these sins brought into my life. Oh, my beautiful Savior. Oh, that I might cry out now for the injustice you suffered. Blessed, blessed redeemer. Beautiful one who took the weight of shame that I might walk free and at peace. Your punishment sets me free from harboring a need for justice. I can let go of the pain from this wickedness, at peace in knowing that you have paid the ultimate price.
When he sees all that is accomplished by his anguish,
he will be satisfied.
Let me be more like you, Jesus. Let me understand greater the depth of your love. Let me be satisfied by all that was accomplished by your anguish. Your death has brought me forgiveness for my sins, yes. But this Good Friday I am overwhelmed by your sacrifice, for you took the punishment for the wrongs done to me, making it possible for me to offer forgiveness, and I don't have to look for answers to those questions anymore.
This story is very personal for me. I do not know that I have the words to convey how the Holy Spirit brought this precious realization to my heart. I do know that I am not alone. I know that there are others, struggling to believe that God loves within the messy fallout of a broken world. I know that we all question at times the truth of his love for us. This world is full of sorrows. But there is a man well-acquainted with sorrows. He is not unfamiliar with grief. Ask him where the justice, love, grace and forgiveness can possibly flow from. Question how you are to go on, walking in love, under the weight of so much darkness. This Good Friday, consider the man on the cross. I believe he will answer you.
