Triage

Although I wrote this in first person, I think we all have been there. Asked some of these questions.

God? God!!!!

How can I pray more to make you move?

Where are you? Now! Emergency! Crisis!

Where are you?

No words left to pray. I can’t pray harder. I want to force your hand.

How can I batter my fists against an invisible chest?

How can I see the Almighty hand work above the stormy sky?

Lord, this trust thing is not easy. I want to see how you are working now. Now. Jesus. I want to peer up in the heavens and see what you have in store, see a movement, see an answer. It is not a little thing, Lord. Big stakes. Hearts. Lives. Souls.

Can you hear the faith cracking?

Can you see the hope being blown away like dust in the wind?

Lord, it is something close to your heart. It’s not foolish. So where?

Don’t you call yourself the Protector? Don’t you call yourself the Provider? Father?!

And I feel, my friends feel, like you’ve pulled the rug out. You’re gone.

I’m not even asking why. We need triage, not just intellectual answers now. We need action.

My Savior!

How can I plead with you more? 

Jesus, “Look at me. For thirty-odd years, I waited. Seeing my mother struggle after my earthly father’s death, knowing I would raise the dead—but not yet. Not him. Not him who I loved. Not for my mom who I loved.

Seeing the oppression of Rome crush the spirits of my friends. Perhaps seeing some of my friends crucified as zealots.

Seeing the crowds, harassed and helpless as sheep.

Where are you God? Now?

I waited.

I trusted.”

Jesus, “Look at me. In the desert, led by the very Spirit of my Father. Test. Try.

Weak. Hunger. Parched lips. Hazy in the heat of the Judean sun.

Tempter appears. Glory. Strength. Beauty. Power.

I, wobble to stand, weak from hunger.

His offer—now. Don’t wait.

Food, self-gratification, real needs met—now.

Jump from the temple, see God’s protection, vindication, ask God to act—now.

The kingdoms of this world, a good end goal—now.

Where are you God? I only hear the Tempter’s voice. I only fear my hunger.

God, you led me hear.

My God, my Father.

I waited.

I trusted.” 

 

“Look at the cross.

There.

Can you do more? Can you plead more?

Can I do more?

It is finished.

I hear the cries through the bridge of that wooden tree that spanned heaven and earth, that tore the temple veil.

I hear through the groan of my own Son who bore all that pain that you are crying out in.

You do not need to do more.

Look.

Trust.”

“Look at the cross.

I am good.

I am priest.

I am sacrifice.

I am present incarnated, Emmanuel. 

I am the chest that was pummeled on. 

I am the hand that worked on this earth.

I am the dry bones that were swept away in death. 

I am loving.

I am just.

I am restoring not only in spite of pain, but through and in pain.

I am resurrecting.

I am bringing shalom.

The breaking power of the cross is still breaking in.”

“Look at the cross.

I AM THAT I AM.

Death will not win.”

Cross.

Yes, my KING.

I trust.

My tears, your tears. Your tears on cross, my tears now.