Over the years this has looked very different from one year to the next. There are years where I have fasted (eating certain foods, drinking certain drinks, watching TV, speaking critical words), and there are years where I didn't "subtract," but instead I "added" - extra abiding time or an extra spiritual practice as a way of drawing closer to Christ during this season. It has never been about an extra rule to follow, rather an opportunity to strategically limit myself for the purpose of spiritual intimacy with my Lord.
And then there are other years in which I didn't necessarily do anything official for Lent. I didn't fast; I didn't "add." But yet there was still the awareness that this is a special season. Especially Holy Week, the week leading up to Easter Sunday. Even more so for me personally, especially Maundy Thursday and Good Friday.
It has always been so meaningful to me to read through - on Thursday - the stories in Scripture of how Jesus spent his last "Thursday" evening: celebrating Passover with his closest friends, pouring out the anguish in his heart to his Father in the garden, surrendering his will to the will of his Father and accepting that this was the only way.
And then on Friday, reading the story of how he surrendered his body to be bruised and broken, and his blood to be spilled, as he became the sacrifice required for the forgiveness for our sins. At noon remembering how the sky grew dark and the sun did not shine as he continued to gasp for breath on that cross, and then around 3 pm pausing to remember how he cried out and breathed his last. I am amazed at how many of these Fridays the weather seems to be overcast or rainy, as if Creation itself is remembering along with me.
This year the last words of Jesus, as he hung on that cross, have been reverberating in my head and heart. I discovered Andrew Peterson's beautiful song, "Last Words (Tenebrae)" found on YouTube here or Spotify here, and Jesus' words have been echoing through my spirit as I listen to it on repeat.
- "Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do." Luke 23.34
- "Today, you will be with me in paradise." Luke 23.43
- "Behold, your son...Behold, your mother." John 19.26, 27
- "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?" Matthew 27.46, Mark 15.34
- "I thirst." John 19.28
- "It is finished." John 19.30
- "Father, into your hands I commend my spirit." Luke 23.46
Those last words recorded from Jesus before he breathed his last - "Father, into your hands I commit my spirit" - have especially stood out to me today. If you watch the progression of his words from first to last, we notice that at first Jesus is still ministering to others. Even as he first feels the nails piercing his hands and feet, he is praying for those striking their hammers: "Forgive them." As he first feels the weight of his body hanging by these nails, he is offering hope to the criminal hanging next to him: "You will be with me." As the blood from his crown of thorns still drips in his eyes, he is caring for his mother and his friend: "Behold, your son."
But then, it seems as though maybe his attention shifts. As his lungs burn for air, he grows desperate for relief and turns to the One who has always, for all eternity, been there for him. Every time. Yet God Himself has, for the first time ever, utterly forsaken Jesus. As the sins of all humanity are placed on Jesus' trembling shoulders, God turns away and abandons Jesus - in his time of greatest need and deepest pain. Utterly forsaken.
As an expression of this loss, Jesus - the source of Living Water - says that he thirsts. And we know that he doesn't thirst merely for a drink, but for his own Father, just like the psalmist: "As a deer pants for flowing streams, so pants my soul for you, O God" (Ps 42.1). Jesus longs for his God as desperately as his dying body longs for life-giving water.
Yet, still nothing. No relief. No rescue. Jesus remains on the cross, abandoned and forsaken, breathing shallow breaths. Each more difficult than the one before. And although he is more alone than he has ever been, he knows that he has obeyed. He has fulfilled the command of the God who has abandoned him. God's utter silence is proof: "It is finished."
And yet.
In his moment of complete abandonment, in the midst of being utterly forsaken, even with God's deafening silence ringing in his ears...Jesus' final words astonish: "Father, into your hands I commend my spirit."
Father.
Jesus still calls Him Father. Even when God cannot claim him, Jesus claims his Father. Even when God turns His face from Jesus, Jesus cannot help but cast his final gaze upon his Father. Even when God abandons Jesus and forsakes him, Jesus cannot - will not - forsake or abandon his Father. With his last words, Jesus claims his Father and declares that even in abandonment, he will trust his Father - and entrust his eternal spirit unto his Father.
Even when God is silent and unresponsive and absent, Jesus trusts and Jesus entrusts.He trusts that his Father is good and His plans are good and He is still worthy of complete, logic-defying trust. And Jesus' trust is so all-encompassing that he is able to entrust his very dying spirit unto his Father - even in the midst of being forsaken and abandoned. Even knowing that every sin was now fully assigned to him. His life was payment, and there were no guarantees what would happen next. One might argue that Jesus probably knew the plan all along, but in the midst of being truly forsaken and utterly abandoned - there is no guarantee. There is only silence and darkness and gut-wrenching pain. Yet Jesus chose to trust God, claim Him as Father, and place his eternal hope in the goodness and sovereignty of the God he loved and longed for with his final breath.
Glory, we know how the story ends! God is merciful...and Jesus defeated sin and death. Hope wins, and the power of Jesus' resurrection is now available to us who belong to him. Hallelujah!
And while I rejoice in Jesus' victory, and will belt my praise as loud as I can come Easter Sunday morning...and I rejoice, too, that his victory is available to me in everything, I would be remiss to not also learn from the choice that Jesus made in his final moments on the cross.
In the midst of abandonment, Jesus chose to trust. In the midst of silence, Jesus threw himself at God's feet and said, I still belong to You. I will always belong to You.
No matter the trial I find myself in. No matter how far God feels or how silent He seems. No matter when He seems to have forsaken and abandoned me. Let me learn from Jesus the way of sweet surrender, the way of trusting and entrusting, as I say too...
Lord, I still give myself to You. Every day, every decision, every breath, belongs to You. No matter what, I will always belong to You.
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