I read a quote from an article on the Mockingbird website recently that has been percolating from heart to brain and back again ever since.
If a man who is in love is asked what gives his beloved such unique value for him over all other persons, he can only answer: “She is the fulfillment of all my dreams.” If the questioner has undergone any similar experience, the subjectivity of this answer causes no offense because the lover makes no claim that others should feel the same. He not only admits that “she is beautiful for me but not necessarily for you” but glories in this admission.
If a man who professes himself a Christian is asked why he believes Jesus to be the Christ, his position is much more difficult, since he cannot believe this without meaning that all who believe otherwise are in error, yet at the same time he can give a no more objective answer than the lover: “I believe because he fulfills none of my dreams, because He is in every respect the opposite of what He would be if I could have made Him in my own image.”
Thus, if a Christian is asked: “Why Jesus and not Socrates or Buddha or Confucious or Mohomet?” perhaps all he can say is: “None of the others arouse all sides of my being to cry ‘Crucify Him.'”
– W.H. Auden, from an article by David zahl on the Mockingbird website
Reflecting on these words, I asked myself today, “In what ways do I cry ‘Crucify Him!” to Jesus? Certainly, the ways I do are merely modest sins that anyone could understand. It was in my humble pride that a thought came breaking through.
There is a family that began coming to the church I have recently begun to call home. After all the destruction, pain, anger, and hurt from the past year, I had actually begun to settle down and be thankful not just for the Lord’s faithfulness, but for giving me a place of healing. When this family showed up from the very church that had helped inflict me, my wounds were prodded, poked, and aggravated afresh.
My internal dialogue this week might have sounded something like this: “God, we found a place that we thought you were calling us to, and now someone from the enemy’s camp has come into our safe-place. What… the… hell? You led us through the Valley of the Shadow of Death just to re-injure us? Is there no place where we can be free from our inflictors?”
Ah, the hidden God. The God who sought to put Moses to death right after giving him potent promises of deliverance. The God who led his chosen people out of slavery and bondage, to wilderness wondering, suffering, and death. The God who delivered a Gentile from his leprosy by one of his prophets, while there were those of his own who were inflicted, yet unhealed. The God who delivered his people over to her enemies, and their destruction was so great that they resorted to cannibalizing their own children.
“Crucify him!”
The God who became incarnate to take the sin of the world onto himself. Like a thief he came and stole my sins and bore them on himself, and sent them to hell with his very own death on the cross.
Who hell does this God think he is? I can take care of myself! I can make things right. I suffered a lot the past year! If you won’t give me a place of healing, I’ll just go find my own! Why do you keep inflicting! “Crucify him!”
His body, laid into a tomb. Thank God! Now I can get back to… judging a family who is desperate for the same grace I was starved for this past year.
Christ have mercy, I crucified you.
Easter…is it for me? Life, resurrection, hope… dare I even peek in that direction?
I peek.
What is that I hear? “Father, forgive them. They know not what they do.”
Faith in Practice 