Palm Sunday – Holy Week

Dear Jesus,

Today is Palm Sunday. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about this today. I know that we’ve been together since I was a child and that You know my heart and its ways, even better than I do. But I have to say something I’ve never admitted before, Lord…that I really hate today’s story…and how the story is going to keep unfolding over the next week. I know I’m not supposed to hate anything, and I’m sorry to use that word, but it really is how I feel.

I really hate how You were betrayed and abandoned by Your best friends. I hate how people spat on You, and mocked and ridiculed You in public. I hate how they bullied You. I hate how the very people You spoke such tender Love to, the many, many people You healed along the way, were the ones who turned away and gave up on You and Your message of Love. I hate how they totally misunderstood – how they totally missed that YOU were Your Father’s Love letter to His people. I hate how they couldn’t tolerate their own inability to grasp Your Love and so chose to save Barabas instead of You. I hate when they nailed You to that cross….the agony You must have felt, as they brutally drove those nails through your beautiful healing hands, crushes my heart into a zillion pieces. I can scarcely even listen when they get to that part of the story. I hate how they all stood there and watched you bleed and die, so helpless and alone. I hate that You felt so abandoned, even by Your own Father, in those last agonizing moments. I hate it all. I hate the hatred.

Most of all, I hate how little we’ve changed over all these years. How we still mock and bully those who speak Love and peace instead of hatred and war. I hate how we still reject and walk away from even our best friends when they speak something that we don’t like to hear or make choices that we don’t understand. I hate that even after all You’ve said and done, I still doubt that You really love me. And I hate that even knowing all of this, after hearing and reading and experiencing Your tender faithful Love for my entire life, I can still even utter the word “hate”, knowing full well that You live, speak and breathe Love and call me to do the same.

I’m sorry. I’m sorry for the pain and sorrow that You had to endure all those many years ago. I’m sorry for not getting the message either, for not being able to fully trust You and Your Love, even though You did all of this, and suffered all this agony for me. And the irony is not lost on me that You gave up YOUR life, precisely so that I could live and speak and breathe, even if that includes living and speaking and breathing “hate”.

Yes, I hate the story of Palm Sunday, and the week that we’re entering into…it’s a week I wish I could somehow ignore and pretend never happened, a week I wish I could skip entirely through and get straight to that moment, that glorious moment early Sunday morning when You rise and I can almost hear all of Heaven singing Hallelujah, and I can feel my heart pulsing with joy and gladness in the knowing that all is well again, You are alive, and we are too.

Grace. Amazing Grace. How sweet, how sweet that Grace that finds me in my hatred and in my sorrow and in my lost places and speaks Love, Healing, Sunrise, Mercy, Path, Light and Hallelujah into the deepest corners of my being. Grace. Palm Sunday Grace. Holy Thursday Grace. Good Friday Grace. Saturday – our “in-between-places” – Grace, Rising Grace. It’s there, Grace is there, woven in and through every word and every sorrow and every bloody striking of the whip and nails, in the darkness of the tomb, in the weeping out our “why’s”, in our excruciating agony-of-absence, in our waiting in the void, in the rising and the glory of Sunday morning.

How can I hate the story when it oozes Grace and Mercy and Light and Love in every single word?! Love, You, turned the darkness to Light, the sorrow to Joy, the lostness to  Hope, the cross to Redemption, our “why” to Grace…You, Your story, turns my hatred to Love.

Palm Sunday…Hosanna to the King. Hosanna to the Love of my life. Tell me again the story of Your Love…

palm cross

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Copyright © Sharon C. Matthies, Meanderings (blog), 2017. All rights reserved.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

About Sharon

I love to write. I love to write myself into being right here right now. Writing releases something in me that needs wings, writing opens doors and windows that I often don't even realize are possible, writing helps me breathe out the dusty old, and to breathe in the new and possible. My hope is that maybe writing here in this blog will bring new light into these dusty old hallways and help me to clear out the thinking processes and mindsets that just don't work for me anymore. I seek to breathe new light and life into the nooks and crannies of a soul that has been feeling somewhat lost and frayed because of the last few patches of road I've had to travel.
This entry was posted in faith, joy, Light, Love, meaning, mercy and tagged , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s