Eli, Eli, lema sabachthani?

Yaquina Head Lighthouse: Photo by me

It’s been awhile. Late summer through early fall was bustling with life for me. I got married, honeymooned on the Oregon coast, completed a few big work projects, lost my dog Tahoe, and somehow through it all, keeping up on my weekly blog escaped me. I had so much to share and yet nothing that felt was worth sharing with the world through writing. My Instagram filled up with colorful photos of my trials and triumphs, but no words seemed able to adequately describe what a surreal few months it has been.

Now the leaves are falling, the air is chilling, and the world’s calamity continues. 2020 is coming to an end and thank God for that. When fall sets in and gives way to winter I often settle deep into my own bones and reflect on the past year. The last time I felt this heavily about a year was before I met my husband and was one of the darkest times of my life (a story for another time I’m sure). I’ve felt heavy with the feeling of loss this year. We’ve lost lives, jobs, businesses, minds, human decency, the list goes on.

 Typically, one of my favorite parts of fall is watching the leaves fall from the trees as fall gives way to winter. This year we had a cold snap, an early snow, and all the leaves seemed to simply drop from the trees instead of their usual lethargic descent. When the leaves fell this year, I felt the world doing the same. At no time in my life have I ever been more convinced that we live in a broken world. The fact that we live in a world full of sin has never been more apparent. It’s almost as if fall was the straw that broke the camel’s back. The world is tired. We are nasty to each other through comments and posts on the internet. We let politics divide us. Civil rights are somehow still up for debate. We argue about science and COVID as if any of us are qualified (of few of my readers are, thank you healthcare professionals). Our healthcare systems are overwhelmed (I won’t argue this). Many families spent Thanksgiving apart, alone, or with less friends and family than in years past. Many parts of the county and world are going back into lockdowns. Winter is coming (pun intended for you GOT fans). For many, this season/month/year hasn’t been a walk in the park.

Now for some of you reading this, the previous paragraph may seem awfully bleak and perhaps you have been lucky enough to be unaffected by the chaos of the world. This post is for those of us who aren’t/weren’t so lucky. This post is for the tired, the lonely, the frustrated, the lost, the broken. For those losing hope. The burden of every day life feels heavy. Our dreams feel like nightmares. Our days feel like never ending nights. You are not alone. It’s okay to not be okay.

A friend of mine once told me a thought he had while flying high above somewhere late at night. He said that he was looking down at some nameless city and seeing all the little lights below. And he thought about how many of those little lights were blinking light beams of suffering. He immediately felt overwhelmed by the amount of suffering in the world and somehow seeing it all from a bird’s eye view felt unbearable. All the light became suffering to him, and he was overtaken by its immense weight. I’ve been feeling the same way lately, like suddenly, I can feel the raw, heavy pain from all over the world. None of it is mine, yet all of it is mine at the same time, because I have so much genuine love for humanity. Depression and anxiety in my clients are rising, more hungry people come into my office looking for food. I could keep going, but you get the gist. And yet there seems to be this underlying current that keeps pushing the narrative that everyone should be just fine. That it “isn’t a big deal,” that everyone is blowing the entirety of this year out of proportion. That we should be able to maintain our typical level of productivity on all fronts, work, home, mental health, physical health. And I think that’s poisonous. I’m here to say you can put down the self-help book. You can put chores off for a week. You can eat the ice cream. You can skip the workout. You can wait to do your notes until tomorrow (that’s for me), you can sleep in, you can just let go for one freaking minute. You don’t have to be perfect and keep pushing so hard and acting like you’re okay and none of this affects you. It’s okay to not be okay. And, you can let go and be human and be broken and still not give up. You can lay down and not declare defeat. You can cry and still stand strong. You can be scared and still fight fear. You can be sad and still hold onto the hope that happier days are coming. You can dislike someone or their opinions and still love them. You can take a break from the news and still be an informed citizen of the world.

God has put a lot on my heart lately, less in words, and more in feelings. He’s opened me up to so much suffering to bring a message of empathy, solidarity, and hope.

If you are in despair, you are in good company. Jesus too knew suffering in the deepest sense. The night before He was betrayed by one of His own disciples, He went to the garden of Gethsemane to pray.  “Then Jesus went with his disciples to a place called Gethsemane, and he said to them, “Sit here while I go over there and pray.” He took Peter and the two sons of Zebedee along with him, and he began to be sorrowful and troubled. Then he said to them, “My soul is overwhelmed with sorrow to the point of death. Stay here and keep watch with me.” Going a little farther, he fell with his face to the ground and prayed, “My Father, if it is possible, may this cup be taken from me. Yet not as I will, but as you will.” Then he returned to his disciples and found them sleeping. “Couldn’t you men keep watch with me for one hour?” he asked Peter. “Watch and pray so that you will not fall into temptation. The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak.” He went away a second time and prayed, “My Father, if it is not possible for this cup to be taken away unless I drink it, may your will be done.” When he came back, he again found them sleeping, because their eyes were heavy. So he left them and went away once more and prayed the third time, saying the same thing. Then he returned to the disciples and said to them, “Are you still sleeping and resting? Look, the hour has come, and the Son of Man is delivered into the hands of sinners. Rise! Let us go! Here comes my betrayer!””

Jesus said His “soul felt overwhelmed with sorrow the point of death.” He fell face down to the ground in prayer and when He begged for God to take this cup from Him, He was asking for there to be any other way to reconcile humans to God. He was asking for God to stop the crucifixion. Jesus was suffering. And this was just the beginning of His suffering. The worst was yet to come. As Christians, we believe in the holy trinity. That God, Jesus, and the Holy Spirit are one in the same. Meaning, that God has experienced human suffering so deeply, that is was written in a book that has survived thousands of years to recount the tale. God knows your pain. And God is with you in it. Even when it feels like He is so far away.

After Jesus prayed in the garden, He was arrested and crucified. “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 it with sour wine, and put it on a reed and gave it to him to drink. But the others said, “Wait, let us see whether Elijah will come to save him.””

 “Eli, Eli, lema sabachthani?” That is one of the only quotes of the Bible that I can recite by heart, and it’s not even in English. Jesus felt forsaken. Jesus felt abandoned. Jesus felt human. How many of you have called this out in your own way over the past year? How many of you have felt forgotten, alone, and forsaken? Let’s be honest, a lot of us have. It feels so far from the desert wilderness of the Old Testament where God spoke to His people and so far from the New Testament where He sent us His only Son. Where is the God who parted the seas? Where is the God who sustained His people in the desert on Manna? Where is the God who turned rivers to blood? Where is the God who delivered entire civilizations into the hands of the Israelites to ensure they inherited the promised land? We puff our chests up in frustration and righteousness, questioning the creator of the universe, WHERE ARE YOU GOD?!

He is there, in the garden. He is weeping at the tomb of His friend Lazarus. He is resisting the temptation of Satan in the desert. He is on the cross with you crying out “Eli, Eli, lema sabachtani?” He is with you in every breath, every tear, every doubt, every fear, every, single, moment. After Jesus cried out and was mocked, He cried out a final time and yielded 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. The tombs also were opened. And many bodies of the saints who had fallen asleep were raised and coming out of the tombs after his resurrection they went into the holy city and appeared to many. When the centurion and those who were with him, keeping watch over Jesus, saw the earthquake and what took place, they were filled with awe and said, “Truly this was the Son of God!”” God was there. Jesus was buried. Jesus rose again. God always triumphs. God always wins. Not only are you not alone in your suffering, but God promises that He has a bigger purpose for your life, and that He will always use your trials to bring about His glory. Have faith my friend. God’s greatest love story to His people was preceded by the most tragic heartbreak known to the creator of the universe. There is always darkness before the sun rises. There is always winter before there is spring. So, let’s have heart, together. Let’s hold each other up in the promises of God instead of tearing each other down in the name of self-righteousness. Let’s remember our humanity and love our neighbors. Let’s allow ourselves to be sad without giving up the fight. Let’s allow ourselves to be imperfect without being self-destructive. Let’s allow for moments of weakness, knowing that it will lead to stronger days ahead. And let’s never stop praying. Talk to God. He wants nothing more than to hear from the children He loves so much. He is always available, and honestly, He’s the best listener. He hardly ever interrupts, unless He’s got something really important to say.

Our God is bigger than 2020. Our God is bigger than lockdowns, lost jobs, financial strains, and politics. Our God is bigger than death itself. So much so that He in fact, beat it. And if while waiting for those brighter days, you’re needing to feel God right now, look to His children. God put so many doors to His love in the world for times like these. They may be your neighbor, your coworker, your pastor, your significant other, your boss, or perhaps for you it’s me and this blog post. We are here to be an example of God’s love, even in the hardest of times. We fail of course, because we will never amount to God’s perfection, but with His strength and His will, we are sufficient to fill you up enough and get you on your way to the only one who is sufficient enough, God Himself. I’ll be spending the rest of this year in prayer for the suffering in the world and hoping for a better future, trusting in God and His promises. I hope you will join me.