Tag Archives: love

Tears on Good Friday

23 Apr

Posted by Jimmy Spencer

I cried tonight in church. As I drove home, tears again began to roll down my face. Walking into my door, I broke down and wept on my couch.

It’s rare when I do cry. But tonight, on Good Friday, I was struck by all the suffering in our hearts, the suffering that I have felt in my heart – and through an amazing sermon from my pastor – I came to finally realize the suffering that Jesus endured on the cross, and the suffering that God endures.

My friend, Pastor Bret, and I spoke briefly before he gave his sermon. He made a simple, yet impactful statement: “We tend to rush to Easter and forget about the meaning of this day.”

Tonight, I mourned the loss of Jesus. I cried and questioned how we could treat the son of God so brutally, how we could treat anyone so brutally. Images of those who are suffering in this world were shown. I cried as I thought about times in my own life when I felt suffering. I cried again when I thought about the suffering of others.

“Jesus suffered for us.” I’d heard it my entire life, but until tonight, I don’t think I understood. He endures and he still endures. I feel so much of the purpose for us on Earth is so that we can learn to feel emotion in the way that God feels emotion. We are made in His likeness and we are learning to feel the way He feels.

We suffer, in the way Jesus suffered. In this, we endure pain together and are one. The fact that we do feel is proof enough in His existence and His presence in us all.

An added emotional moment in the night came through the playing of a secular song, Bleeding Love by Leona Lewis. It’s not a traditional Christian song by any means, but I hope you will listen to the song in the YouTube video posted below and read the lyrics posted with it.

My tears began to pour down as I heard this song in church tonight, as it has always been a special song to me and it was amazing that it was selected as the final of only two songs that night.

The timing made it even more remarkable. Three years ago – on Good Friday – my Mom underwent serious hysterectomy surgery to remove a cancerous tumor on her ovary. That morning in 2008, driving to San Francisco to be with her and my family for the surgery, I had listened multiple times to that same Leona Lewis song which I had just added on my iPod. I listened to it a lot that Easter weekend, and still it has always reminded me of that morning that my Mom had her surgery. It was a very scary time and we didn’t know what would happen. My Mom means everything to me, and I remember a moment standing in the halls of the hospital with my brother and my mind racing with what-ifs. I took time that weekend to pray at a church in San Francisco. I know God listened. To this day, my Mom is cancer free and healthy. I am so thankful for every day I get to spend with her and I thank God for what he did to heal her.

When that song played tonight, it served as a reminder of one of the most difficult times in my life. As it played, I was flooded with emotion and praise for God. In my tears, I felt a connection to the Holy Day and to the pain that God felt.

Good Friday never meant as much to me as it did tonight.

Isaiah 53:3-4
He was despised and rejected by mankind,
a man of suffering, and familiar with pain.
Like one from whom people hide their faces
he was despised, and we held him in low esteem.

Surely he took up our pain
and bore our suffering,
yet we considered him punished by God,
stricken by him, and afflicted. Continue reading 

A Poem: Warned, Damaged, Gone

11 Apr

Warned, Damaged, Gone
A poem by Jimmy Spencer

Breeze before the wind, forewarning
Gusts flicker the strongest flames, damaging
Soul grasps the fire, clenching
Truth slips to smoke, dissolving

Warned, Damaged, Gone

The cries started with a whisper, hushed
The lull is gone, awakened
The words reveal blood, stained
The voice vanished in screams, silenced

Warned, Damaged, Gone

Warmth seduced, despair fades
Feelings blurred, desire clouds
Belief restored, love haunts
Dreams again, hope blinds

Endured, Healed, Challenged

The poem represents the cycle in my life, the repeated torture of my faith and doubts. As my doubts begin to flicker, I too often see my faith dissolve too quickly. Then I find myself back, close to faith, but only based on my own desires to be close to God. Then the cycle repeats, dreaming again of faith, but is it just blind hope? The use of changing pace in the last stanza is to show a dramatic shift in the cycle back to how doubts heal again, and ultimately restore us through challenges.

The poem also mirrors our frustrations in love, sorting pain through clouds of happiness to strengthen the relationship.

Miracles

11 Apr



Written by Sophie Aust

Dreams are like miracles.

You can have 25 dreams a night and not remember a single one of them. Likewise, you can spend your entire life trying to disprove miracles, but you cannot keep them from happening.

Miracles are happening all around us, and we shut our eyes to them. Miracles happen when we would rather cover our ears and hum than listen to God. When we force God to pull out the big guns. When He steps down from heaven and makes flowers grow out of our dreadful compost of a life.

I know this, because I often try to ignore God. In Kari Jobe’s Revelation Song, she describes being “Filled with wonder at the mention of your name.” I personally cannot relate to this. When I hear God’s name mentioned, my most common response is to run in the opposite direction. My life has been filled with miracle after miracle; God trying desperately to get my attention and show his deep love for me. I run away and come back, again and again, but God’s love is relentless. No matter how hard we try to ignore miracles, God continues to make them happen.

I am constantly faced with miracles the size of tiny birds. Miracles that are hardly more than coincidence. God does not usually speak to me in the thunder and lightning. Instead, God quietly reminds me that he takes care of the entire universe, and that universe includes me. I experienced the most memorable of these miracles in October of 2011 after a horrific seizure. I have suffered with anxiety my entire life, but we did not acknowledge it until I began to have dangerous physical symptoms such as twitching, paralysis, and intense seizures. The first of these seizures occurred during a school rally when I fell off a high bleacher and began shaking uncontrollably. I had to pull on one of my friend’s legs in order for anybody to notice anything at all. This was hugely disturbing to me. Not only had I had a potentially dangerous seizure, but none of my friends even noticed.

The next day was a Saturday, and I spent the entire day in a cold sweat of anxiety. My family is part of a church small-group, and every month we meet at each others’ houses for dinner. This particular Saturday, we were meeting at the fanciest, richest house of the entire group. I was completely overwhelmed. I don’t think I said over five words throughout the entire dinner, and I was eager to get home early. Then I saw my best friend, Brandon, sneak into the dark living room. Brandon is a silent, awkward sophomore at Alameda High. Not one to talk much, he spends most of his time playing MineCraft on his laptop. He has been one of my best friends for my whole life, but we have never once had a truly serious conversation. On a whim, I followed him into the huge, pitch dark living room. He was sitting and playing on his Nintendo DS. I sat on the armchair across from him. We were quiet for a long time, not talking, just listening to each others’ thoughts, communicating without any words, knowing we had both escaped for the exact same reason. After a while he invited me to watch him play. We sat on the squashy red couch together and watched his little boxy character battle monsters and collect Pokemon. Soon we were talking, discussing weird dreams and awkward friends, embarrassing moments, bad teachers. I don’t think I’ve ever laughed so hard as I did on that one night.

When I was the absolute furthest from God, He picked me up and stuck me back on my feet. With the help of an empty room, a Nintendo DS, and Brandon VanGelder, God put my pieces back together. There were no tears, no wild embracing, no promises to be a better person, none of that. But that night in late October was nothing less than a miracle.

In his book Tattoos on the Heart, Father Greg Boyle calls miracles “Music with nothing playing”. Like the story of Elijah, God was not in the fire, the earthquake, or the wind storm. God was no less than the faintest whisper. But that whisper was more precious than any praise song or devotion. He was there, and He was taking extreme actions to show that I was extraordinarily loved.

Miracles are constantly happening. The air is thick with them. God sends us these sudden, breath-taking moments to stick us back in the right direction. The more we try to run away, to forget, to believe that we are no good, God continues to call us back, saying that we are worth it and He has a plan. God uses miracles to say that He doesn’t just love us, He is madly and irrevocably IN LOVE with us. And that is all that we ever need to know.

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