Five unfulfilled days, and we turn from palms to rocks.
I wanna think I'm better than them; better than the ones who begged their hosannas, then just days later, gripped rocks of disappointment, bitterness, vengeance.
But here I stand, here I live, with a rock in my hand.
It's the rock of My Way.
This is how it's gonna go, okay, God? Do You hear me? Can You see me? 'Cause I'm praying in faith, and this is what I need...
I hold my rock tightly, I fill my pockets, I scramble to keep the armload of all things My Way close to my chest. The children need to do things my way, Kevin should react according to my way, circumstances need to work out my way. Else I stamp and cry and complain, petulantly, even bitterly, throwing my rocks at those who offend. Family. Circumstances. Myself. My God?
I wanna be better than them: the rockholders. I can scarce breathe the truth to myself, but I know it none-the-less.
When the wind blows too fiercely, I stand hard against it, and shake my fist at the Windmaker, and grip tight-fisted the rocks of My Way.
Who am I to tell the Windmaker how to blow the wind?
I read again the story of Jesus in the garden, praying to his Father...
And He was withdrawn from them about a stone’s throw, and He knelt down and prayed, saying, “Father, if it is Your will, take this cup away from Me; nevertheless not My will, but Yours, be done.” Then an angel appeared to Him from heaven, strengthening Him. And being in agony, He prayed more earnestly. Then His sweat became like great drops of blood falling down to the ground. - Luke 22:41-44
He began to be sorrowful and deeply distressed. Then He said to them, “My soul is exceedingly sorrowful, even to death. Stay here and watch with Me.” He went a little farther and fell on His face, and prayed, saying, “O My Father, if it is possible, let this cup pass from Me; nevertheless, not as I will, but as You will.” ...Again, a second time, He went away and prayed, saying, “O My Father, if this cup cannot pass away from Me unless I drink it, Your will be done.” - Matt 26:37-42
It comes to me in a rush, a moment of merciful, guilt-lifting revelation:
Jesus too, struggled to lay down the rock of his own way.
O God! Abba, that in Your compassion You let us see Jesus' wholly-human battle of wills!
Why did He let us see? He could have written it differently: "Then Jesus went to the garden and danced a jig of joy & praise for the coming triumph through crucifixion..."
That could have been the example for us, the frame to fit our trials into: When God leads you into trials and suffering, even unto death, you should sing & dance & whoop & holler & be 'inside, outside, upside, downside, happy all the time!'
But no, in His great & tender compassion, The Father allows us to see that Jesus agonized, He didn't want to drink the bitter cup. God came right down among us and felt the heavy, burdensome weight of wanting to go My Way instead of God's Way. He wept and prayed and sweated blood and called His armor-bearing friends to help in His flesh-battle for submission.
Nevertheless, Jesus laid his rock down.
He released the rock of My Way, and chose to drink the bitter cup of submission.
Choosing submission didn't suddenly lift the burden of suffering. He suffered more, in His submission, than I can fathom. He still cried out, in depth of excruciating-agony-beyond-all-agonies: "My God, My God; Why have You forsaken Me?"
And there's the reason I grip tightly the rock of My Way. I don't want to suffer. I am horrifically afraid of God's Way. Trusting Him is so...so out of control...so unknown...so terrifying...
Just as we can mercifully read about the humanity of Christ's excruciating obedience...
We can also read the Glory, the Joy, the Eternal Salvation of His obedience.
There is a greater good, a better joy, a splendor beyond all imagining, when I lay down the rocks of My Way and submit to God's Way. No, not easier. No, not without suffering, sorrow, pain. In His compassion, God shows us, it's okay to weep & agonize & suffer over the submitting. But the submitting must come, for God's Glory to unfold.
If I can learn, if I can begin by releasing just one rock of my way, perhaps I can begin to taste the sweeter path. Perhaps I will find relief from my burdensome load, and discover that indeed, His yoke is light...as in bright...as in shining His Glory, and not the foggy-facade of my attempt at control.
And what then?
What if I begin to empty my pockets;
what if performance clattered down,
and unfulfilled expectations tumbled out,
and heart-hardened bitterness crashed into a thousand pieces?
I might cry then. And suffer. And feel embarrassed. But maybe I'll also feel lighter, brighter; God might begin to shine out of those vulnerable places. I might be able to accept the way of the Windmaker, and find peace in the storm, bending with gentler-mercy to care for my children, loving my husband with whole-hearted acceptance.
So today, I try.
Today, I release the wearying grip on My Way.
Any rocks you need to let go of?
