Two thousand years ago there was a tomb with a giant boulder rolled in front of the opening. It was heavily guarded, unmistakably obvious. It seemed to those who stared at it to be a symbol of defeat. It was sealed tight, but it cracked open the hearts of those who never believed it could be. For truly, if He was the Messiah, why would He be buried? Why would He have acted like a senseless lamb in the hands of a butcher? It made no sense. At this place of death, their hopes, dreams, beliefs were struggling to live. But the walls of their breaking hearts had a hard time containing the truth and it seeped out, leaving them weak and wary and worried.
I feel that way sometimes. In my human heart and mind I get a picture of what a victory should look like. And then, when it turns out differently, I struggle to find my faith and peace and hope. I mourn the loss of my ideal as though there has been a death.
When will I learn? God does not move like I think He should; I see in a limited way and His ways are limitless. I see in a narrow slice of time and He is the Lamb slain before the foundations of the world. I see through my feelings and filter my knowledge through an immature heart and mind; He is all powerful, all knowing, and determined to give me a hope and a future in spite of myself.
That's what this Saturday is about to me. Learning to discern defeat. For truly, the place of the most sorrowful death is the scene of the most awesome victory. It is not defeat when my dreams die or my ideas crumble; it simply means that God was too big to be contained by them and they had to die so He could break out.
I feel that way sometimes. In my human heart and mind I get a picture of what a victory should look like. And then, when it turns out differently, I struggle to find my faith and peace and hope. I mourn the loss of my ideal as though there has been a death.
When will I learn? God does not move like I think He should; I see in a limited way and His ways are limitless. I see in a narrow slice of time and He is the Lamb slain before the foundations of the world. I see through my feelings and filter my knowledge through an immature heart and mind; He is all powerful, all knowing, and determined to give me a hope and a future in spite of myself.
That's what this Saturday is about to me. Learning to discern defeat. For truly, the place of the most sorrowful death is the scene of the most awesome victory. It is not defeat when my dreams die or my ideas crumble; it simply means that God was too big to be contained by them and they had to die so He could break out.
