Tag Archives: Forsaken

Martyred

18 Jul

 Martyred Hand

Then he called the crowd to him along with his disciples and said: “If anyone would come after me, he must deny himself and take up his cross and follow me.  For whoever wants to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for me and for the gospel will save it.  What good is it for a man to gain the whole world, yet forfeit his soul?  Mark 8:34-36 (NIV)

Recently I’ve had a bout with sciatica.  I’d heard of it before, but never realized the pain that accompanied it.  It isn’t one of those “if I turn just right the pain will go away” kinds of pains, it’s one of those “no matter what I do I can barely breathe” kind of pains.

Day three was the most intense and I was collecting exercise and stretching advice from as many folks as I could.  All of the exercises helped the pain subside, some, but first thing each morning, crawling out of bed, the pain was always the worse.

Standing was the least painful, sitting was the worse, lying down took strategy . . . still haven’t quite mastered it.  I was trying to do my morning reading and devotionals and found myself walking in circles in the living room, trying to read my Bible as pain free as possible.  At one point I started yelling at Satan to let go of my body and take his pain away from me.  After a while I was praying for healing to my God.  I reminded Him of His scriptures and His stripes.  Then I heard His still small voice, “this pain is nothing compared to what many saints endure for My sake.”

Oh, my, the tortured and martyred Missionaries for Christ.  In a foreign land, tortured and kept in prisons with little food and water; often killed.  I have a home, a soft bed, a comfortable chair to sit in, food in the cupboard and clean water in the tap.  I have so much and I complain about pain.

It’s 1 am of day 5 and it’s hard to sleep.  Yes, the pain is uncomfortable, but with every pinch I think about one of those Saints.  Outside the wind is blowing, I’m safe inside, but I’m thinking about the conditions surrounding those Saints.  How could I have missed thinking about those Saints?

I don’t know, as in Job, whether God is using this affliction to test me.  I do know that it has made me aware of something that I had unintentionally closed my eyes to – the Missionaries that are tortured and martyred for Christ.  How did they endure the pain?  Was it like Stephen who felt nothing as he looked upward into the face of God as he was being stoned to death?  Or was it like Jesus who was beaten, tortured, and hung on the cross in excruciating pain, crying out to the Father, asking why He had been forsaken?

I do know this, with my awareness comes my prayers.  I may not know their individual names or locations, but my Father does.  God, I pray for your children, beaten and tortured for proclaiming You and teaching Your word.  I also pray for the souls of those that bring them harm for they know not what they do.

Jesus, let me NEVER forget.

Forsaken

11 Nov

  Jesus with Cross - the Passion

And at the ninth hour Jesus cried out in a loud voice, “Eloi, Eloi, lama sabachthani?”–which means, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” Mark 15:34 (NIV)

Easter has always been a hard day for me.  I love the music.  I love the spring clothing.  I love the new growth and flowers in bloom.  I love the promise of God that comes with the resurrection.  But, I can’t even think on the crucifixion and what it meant.

When I think about Jesus, and all He did during the 3 years of recorded ministry, hanging on a cross, ripped, bleeding, nailed; I cry.  When I recognize that the torture they put Him through was a sacrifice for my sins and a door to my eternal life; I cry.  How could this perfect man be so destroyed by a sin-filled people, didn’t they understand who He was?  He performed miracles before them and taught them the message of love and forgiveness.  How could they not know?

I wonder what God was feeling at the moment the soldiers stood the cross in place, the tortured body of His Son nailed to the front.  He had a plan, and His Son was the critical element of that plan, but He was also a father.

One of my children made a very poor decision and was picked up by the police department.  He was in the back of the squad car calling “Mom, Mom, Mom . . . !”  I wasn’t allowed to go near the car or speak to him.  Those words still echo in my head and mind and I get overwhelmed with emotion, knowing that my child needed me and the comfort of my words, but that there was nothing I could do.  Is that how God felt when Jesus cried out “My God, My God, why have You forsaken me?”  In the late hours of a dark night do they continue to haunt Him like my child’s words continue to haunt me?  Or was the outcome so powerfully wonderful that the echoes are diminished with love?

God, please forgive me for my portion of the plan that Your Son endured for me.  Hold me ever accountable to the call You placed on my life before the world was formed, and later when you formed me in my mother’s womb.  Let me always be diligent in praising You and sharing who You are to a world filled with darkness.