love that undoes

Last night, I got a good look at everything that love is not, and it knocked the breath right out of me. Our church did an incredible, unusual Good Friday service, a drama of sorts, mixed with dark, dark, techno, Nine Inch Nails-ish music (played by a trio of which Andrew was part). In this drama, we met doubt, sorrow, fear, shame, agony, hate and death, each embodied in a person who movingly spat out their story of how they were "there," how they tried to drag Jesus down, get him to throw in the towel and defeat him, and yet how they each ultimately failed. Except for death. Death, of course, thought he had won. The music itself would have had us believe it.

But in the end there was that still small voice. The voice that revealed that it had been there, too. Through every trial, every doubt, every fear, every pain, every rejection, every temptation, every ounce of suffering. This voice never revealed its name, but it was a stark contrast. It was the complete and utter opposite of every dark character we had heard from. It could only be love.

In one day, even in one hour, I can be preyed upon by all seven of those life-sucking realities. They threaten to undo my relationships, my faith, my hope and my sanity. I doubt who I really am. I feel guilty for things I've done and things I've left undone. I wallow in self pity. I worry about things out of my control. I pass off blame onto someone else. I gossip. I harbor resentment. It is not pretty. It should ruin me. But there is always that still small voice, the one reality that overcomes, that gives me a second chance. Again and again and again.

After the service last night I was standing with Andrew and Matthew, our assistant minister who was also part of the music trio, when a man came up and shook Matthew's hand. He fumbled for something to say and then blurted, "I have no words. But I sure am glad I came."

Isn't that exactly how it should be at the foot of the cross? What can we possibly say? But when we are bombarded 1,000 times a day by all that opposes love and light and life and God, we sure are glad we came.