Seventh Word

"Father, into your hands I commend my spirit."

Henri Nouwen wrote, "Dying is trusting in the catcher. To care for the dying is to say, 'Do not be afraid. Remember that you are the beloved child of God. He will be there when you make your long jump. Don't try to grab him. He will grab you."

It's the image of a small child at the edge of the swimming pool, and Dad's in the water, holding his arms out, saying, "Come on, I'll catch you. Don't worry. I'll catch you."
You look at the water, you look at your dad, and you open your eyes wide and jump.

We don't have to try to jump far enough. He's going to catch us, even if we just lean over and fall in. And that moment doesn't have to be just when we die. It's whenever we make a trusting movement towards Him, and the moment we do that, his hands reach out and catch us.
I don't think distance is an issue, because I think there's never a moment when he's not paying attention, when he's not right there.

It might be, too, like learning to float on your back. Your dad's telling you he's got you, that he's not going to let you sink, just take a deep breath and lean back...
It's hard to let go and let your feet up, not touching anything solid, but you try to trust him, even if you're afraid.

I think dying is a little like that - I think there is a moment when we let go of everything else. A moment when I realize God's with me - when I feared he wouldn't be, and I know that He has me, and He's not going to drop me, and whatever else happens, it doesn't depend on me. He's got it under control. So finally, I trust Him, lean back, and let go.

Fifth Word

"I thirst."

I'm hungry.
I'm tired.
I'm sad.
I'm angry.
........... I'm human.

In Hebrews, we read "We do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but we have one who in every respect has been tested as we are, yet without sin. Let us therefore approach the throne of grace with boldness, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need." (Heb 4:15-16)

Sometimes, in my time of need, I can't even say what it is I want - sometimes, I don't even know.
I can only say what's happening. Here's how it is with me - I'm upset. I'm scared. I don't understand. I don't want to do this. It hurts.
I'm thirsty.

To make these kinds of statements is to make ourselves more vulnerable. To say something like this, I'm telling about my weakness - and whoever hears it has the opportunity to use it - either to help - or to ignore - or to hurt.

And this is something Jesus understands about what it is to be human - what it is to be weak, to ask others for help... to be disappointed by their response.
As he was dying, Jesus said, "I thirst," and the people who heard him gave him vinegar to drink...

The night before, he told his friends he was very distressed and asked them to stay up and watch with him - But they fell asleep.

He asked his Father, if it were possible, not to have to go through all this, but his Father didn't change the plan.

Jesus knows what it is to be scared, to be sad, to be in pain, to die.

Again, Hebrews says, "Since, therefore, the children share flesh and blood, he himself likewise shared the same things, so that through death he might destroy the one who has the power of death, that is, the devil, and free those who all their lives were held in slavery by the fear of death. ... Because he himself was tested by what he suffered, he is able to help those who are being tested." (HEb 2:14-18)

Third Word

"Woman, behold your son." ... "Behold your mother."

Did you ever try to comfort a child who's upset because their pet died? Parents sometimes try this:
"We'll get you another fish..." "I don't want another fish! I want my fish!"
Similar is not the same.

'Better' is also not the same. 'Better' even if it is better, mainly just feels 'different' at first, and 'different' feels about the same as 'bad.'
People sometimes tell parents who are marrying off their daughter and watching her leave home and move away, "Don't think of it as losing a daughter; think of it as gaining a son."
Maybe in the future, they'll have a great relationship with the son-in-law also and maybe grandkids who bring a lot of joy to their lives, and that will even be better, but there's no way to know at the time how it will be in the future.

What about a mother sending her son off for military service?
You can see the group of them walking through the airport - him, his mom, his younger sister and his good friend from school.
He's in his uniform, has a bag, really short hair. They come up to the line for security. He sets his bag on the floor. They're all looking at him. He leans down and hugs his mom; her eyes are starting to well up. She shakes her head; she can't say anything.
He looks over at his friend and back at her.
"Mom, Jake's your son now, till I get back. Take care of her, man."
He picks up his bag and walks over to the line, shows his ticket and ID, puts his bag on the conveyor belt and walks through. On the other side, he picks it up, looks back, waves, and goes through the revolving door. They're standing there watching him. She's really crying now. The friend steps up and puts his hand on her shoulder.

What do you say to her?
"Don't think of it as putting your son in danger; think of it as protecting our nation."
It doesn't matter whether or not that's true. It doesn't change the grief and fear of letting him go.

Mary stood, looking up at her son. He says to her, 'Woman, behold your son," and to his friend and disciple, "Behold your mother."
Mary doesn't speak. But what may her heart have been saying?

YOU are my son; I don't want another son.

Don't think of it as losing your son, Mary;
think of it as gaining the whole world...

I don't want the whole world -

I want my son.

First Word

"Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do."

Can you think of a time when you did something to someone that had unintended bad effects?
Playing a joke, it hit somebody the wrong way...
Or, being mad, saying something that seemed totally warranted - but then watching the other person's face crumple, and you really had no idea it would hurt them like that...
Or worse, knowing it would hurt them like that, and saying it anyway - because it would hurt - and then, seeing how much it hurt, a lot of regret...

"I'm sorry! I didn't mean to..."

Some of the answers can be pretty harsh:
"Well, you didn't mean to to!" I'm sorry...
"Sorry's not good enough!"

But here, there's a different response.
"Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do."

Even before people could realize what they had done, Jesus was understanding them and accepting them, and wanting God to be gentle with them. He didn't ask for justice; he didn't want to be vindicated, for God to get them back - to make them suffer like he was suffering, so they'd know what it felt like - so they'd know what they had done.
How could they know, really, what they had done? How could they have any idea?

When they did start to realize it and came to God with their apologies and their grief and their sorrow, God listened - and he didn't say, "Sorry's not good enough!"

In confession, we come to God and say, "I'm sorry! I didn't mean to... I didn't realize..."

and God looks at Jesus and then back at us and says, "I know."