Crushed but NOT Destroyed

Yesterday was tough, like really tough. It was one of those days as a parent that you dread. My oldest daughter wanted to do something she had every right to do and had planned on for months only to have me tell her we had to cancel due to some arising safety concerns I had regarding the way the circumstances had evolved. She cried those painfully, genuine tears that would bring any parent to their knees. She was crushed, I was crushed, it was a hard moment in our house as we grieved together.

We talked it through once she calmed down a bit and, although still very much upset, she understood that my only intention was to take care of her. This decision now would protect her in the future. I swear this is one of those things hidden in the fine print of the parental job description. No one ever wants to cause their child an ounce of heartbreak, but sometimes we have no choice. It’s these momentary afflictions that pave the way for a better path forward.

I often forget that God was faced with a situation much heavier than mine and Jesus went through something much more painful than what my daughter was dealt. In Luke 22:42 Jesus begs “Father, if you are willing, remove this cup from me.” He also shows perfect obedience when He follows with “Nevertheless, not my will, but yours be done.” He understood that God had a greater purpose for His future and trusted that, should this sacrifice be totally necessary, He was willing to follow in full confidence in His Father’s love.

But did this mean that Jesus coasted through the crucifixion and didn’t feel a twinge of the inevitable agony? By no means. He felt every second of it down to the deepest parts of His soul. His Father felt every bit of it, too. Matthew describes the devastation in detail within the writings of his Gospel account and gives us a front-row seat to Jesus’ suffering. Chapter 27 vs. 45-51 tells the story well:

“Now from the sixth hour there was darkness over all the land until the ninth hour. And about the ninth hour Jesus cried out with a loud voice saying, ‘Eli, Eli, lema sabachthani?’ that is, ‘My God, My God, why have you forsaken me?’ And some of the bystanders, hearing it, said, ‘This man is calling Elijah.’ And one of them at once ran and took a sponge, filled in with sour wine, and put it on a reed and gave it to him to drink. But the other said, ‘Wait, let us see whether Elijah will come to save him.’ And Jesus cried out again with a loud voice and yielded up his spirit. And behold, the curtain of the temple was torn in two, from top to bottom. And the earth shook, and the rocks were split.”

Jesus wasn’t disrespecting His Father when He asked why He had forsaken Him. The word “forsaken” actually translates to the phrase ‘to leave.’ This was the first time in His entire life that Christ had been separated from God in any way and He felt alone in His pain. The Father had to remove Himself physically but He was still very much present emotionally - the darkness that covered the midday sun was a reflection of His sorrow and grief. The passage also tells us that Jesus gave up His spirit WILLINGLY. Again, this wasn’t the path He would have chosen given another viable option but it was the path He was willing to take because His faith was in His Father. Christ knew there couldn’t have been any other way - if there was God would never have asked this of Him.

Ready for the GOOD news? That veil ripping and rock splitting moment was Christ singlehandedly taking on the pits of Hell on our behalf. He came out a victor and we came out with a way to Heaven. The Father knew the road would be tough. He also knew what was best for both the fulfillment of the divine purpose for His Son and the hope of salvation for the rest of His children as well. It wasn’t the easy way, it wasn’t the comfortable way, it wasn’t the way Jesus could come out the least unscathed, but it was the only way that would save souls and display the majesty of the Trinity.

So, my daughter wanted to choose a path that isn’t bad from her point of view. I as her parent, however, can see the picture a bit more clearly than she can and won’t allow her to go down a road that would lead to something much more harmful than this temporary moment of heartache. Does it hurt both of us to have to make this decision? Yep. But does her long-term wellbeing take priority over the short-term comfort of avoiding this struggle? You betcha. And the same goes for our relationship with our Heavenly Father. Like Jesus, we are human. Unlike Jesus, we are not divine. Our perspective is much more limited but we have the same access to our Father. We need His guidance because He knows how each scenario will play out. He loves us too much to simply let us take the trail that brings immediate gratification for the sake of our future security and He sits with us in our pain even if we feel like He’s far from us. As His children, we have every right to momentarily grieve our bumpy roads and to ask honest questions. Jesus did. But we are ultimately called to a willing spirit of submission. We can confidently trust that we will rise victorious in Christ and that our chosen track will bring glory and honor to the One who cherishes us for all of eternity.