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.
Linda J. Humes 