I come to the cross
Dear God, this is Kelley.
Okay, God, deal with me now. I’m ugly and I’m angry. I’m overwhelmed and exhausted. I hate myself. I hate this world. I hate this baggage I still carry, and I hate You. (I don’t, and You know that, but I’m scared. I am out of control, and I have no answers. I have nothing.)
“Just pray,” some will say. I throw rocks at that.
“Just breathe. It will pass,” another says, and I throw rocks again.
They don’t understand, God. “They” meaning the ones who escaped being told they were a burden and they cost too much. “They” meaning the ones who weren’t used, sold, raped. “They” meaning the ones who didn’t learn to hate their bodies, their faces, their very selves.
All this comes back to visit. I just glanced in the mirror, catching myself off guard, and I saw the image painted by those who abused instead of the image You have spent years teaching me to see. In a millisecond, the rage, the fear, the terror, the heart-breaking cavernous sorrow returned. “Just pray” pales. “Just breathe” is impossible when I’ve forgotten how.
I do what I have learned to do, and it is the only thing that has ever helped. I come to You at Calvary. I take my place beneath Your cross, and I bring with me my unanswerable hurt, my confusion, my fear, my despair. I lean my forehead against the wood, and I cry.
When “just pray” and “just breathe” do not work, this is my prerequisite. In this moment, this hour, this day — however long it takes — my suffering is mixed with Yours, and I find myself strengthened. I find odd comfort. I find rest.
Your cross helps me make sense of the world. With it still here, with You both on it and risen above it, I find the peace I need. I need both. Perhaps we all do.
Reflection
How does the cross help make sense of the world?
Prayer
Dear God, there is a lot of sorrow within and without. We all carry it. We all get afraid of it. Platitudes don’t help. They lack the power of grace. Remind me, God, how powerful is Your grace, how it digs down beneath the heaviest weights and rises! When I can’t find this at the empty tomb, I know I can find it at the cross. Thank You, Lord. Amen.