Friday, April 2, 2010

The Cross and the Tomb

This was the first time I had ever been to whole Catholic place. I was there at the Mater Dolorosa Passionist Retreat Center for a day of solitude retreat. I was not sure what to expect and, whether I wanted to or not, had brought a few questions of my own for God to answer. I gave those questions to him, however, and asked that he show his desires for me and that he give me a quietness to hear what the Spirit would teach me. During a lectio divina (Luke 15:11-31 was the passage) one phrase seemed to linger a little longer than the rest—“And the festivities began” (v24b). I was unsure what God meant by this.

It was raining rather steadily when I left the warm, dry building. I never prayed the Stations of the Cross before. In fact, I had never heard of it until a week or so earlier, but I would be open minded, I determined, and would pray them, regardless how much it rained or how cold it was. I held a brochure with the prayers for each station in my hands and tried to keep it dry, though I soon gave up. By the time I reached the second station, the rain was pouring. Undeterred, however, I walked through each stating, praying each one, often feeling convicted, but also encouraged knowing I am not the only one struggling in different areas of my life.

Before long I could feel the biting cold stinging my fingers as I held the dripping wet piece of paper. I did not mind though, especially if Christ endured so much on the road to and on the mount of Calvary.

As I approached the twelfth station, something strange happened to me. I was suddenly overcome with heart-rending sadness. I couldn’t speak, could barely say the prayer, and I found myself on the verge of tears. Seeing Christ on the cross, crying out to God—why would God sacrifice his Son for me? Regardless of the answer, that fact is, he did, and I am forever indebted to him.

Walking to the last station, that of the empty tomb, the rain easing up only slightly, I began to sense a transformation-taking place inside my heart. God showed me something I could only have understood after praying through the progression of Christ’s death and resurrection. The only way to truly understand and experience fully, to truly know the festivities and celebrations God has planned for us, his children ( Lk 15:24; Ps 84:11-12; Pr 8:30), we must first experience the darkness, pain, loneliness, and suffering belonging to death. Only when we enter into Christ's death, only when we die to self, can we be made alive with Christ.