An Unexpected Easter Lesson

I think one of the worst things about being a parent is watching your child suffer with the stomach bug.   I christen it the roach of all illness/bugs.  (And if you know me at all, you know I despise roaches.)  The sights, smells, and sounds turn my stomach, but that’s not the worst part.   The worst part is watching your child heave uncontrollably.  It is hearing her cries of “Its not fair” or “Please no” or “I’m so sorry” as if its her fault.  The worst part is being helpless to do anything but hold her hair, clean her off, and talk soothingly. You can’t fix it.  You can’t heal her.  You can't take it away. Your child who you love with all your heart is hurting.  She is scared.  She is in pain. And you are helpless.  Time seems to slow to a crawl in those moments.  

Last night was like that.  My husband and I tag teamed as our daughter fell sick.   Her eyes broke my heart, the twinkle was gone replaced instead with anguish. Sleep was elusive. As I lay beside her feeling her body shiver, listening to her toss and turn, I prayed for peace and strength and healing.  I As I lay there, not sleeping my mind wandered to many things.   I began to think of the week ahead, Easter, and I began to reflect.  And in the awfulness of that moment, there was a tiny glimpse into the heart of God. 

You see there was a night long ago in this Holy Week, where the Father watched as his child suffered.  He was not immune to the sights, smells, and sounds of his child’s anguish.  I’m sure they all turned his stomach.  He heard his child’s cries, he saw his eyes.  His Holy heart broke I know. The comparison only goes so far.  For while I struggled with my daughter suffering with a small stomach bug, the Father watched the Son of God suffer with brutal beatings, taunting, and the incredible anguish of being nailed to a cross.   Yes, the temporary suffering of my sweet child with a small earthly inconvenience doesn’t even begin to  compare  to the brutal suffering inflicted on His Child,  but I think that on this earth in this week, God is using it to open my eyes to the depth of his love.

For as I was helpless to end my child’s suffering, He was not.  At any moment He could have stepped in.  He could have ended the indescribable scene of brutality, the smell of dirt, blood, sweat,  the cries of anguish, the  unimaginable pain, yet he didn’t.  He couldn’t even hold his Son,  He had to turn his back.   My Mother heart, struggles to understand this.   How I would want to end my child’s suffering big or small with just a word.  Those that were offering my child vinegar, spitting on her, or pounding the nails into the flesh, those I would have wiped out.  I can’t fathom watching idly as this happened if I could have stopped it. 

Oh, how deeply grateful I am that I am not God.  For his Holy strength and self control, are the very reason that I am able to sit here and write this.  You see I am why His child suffered. You are why His Child suffered.   Though we did not physically hold the hammer, or push the crown of thorns upon his brow, it was us.  It was our pride,  sin,  selfishness that wounded him. Our sin that was spat upon him. And yet He loved me.  He loved you.  It was this love that kept him there, not the nails.  It was love that kept God from intervening. He knew the only way that you or I could truly live was through this pain.  He loved us so much, he wanted us to have life.  A life that could only come from the Son of God’s pain, heartache, and death.

So this Monday before Easter I am grateful. Yes, I am deeply grateful that my children seem to be returning to health, but its more than that.  I am grateful not that my child suffered, but that the Lord used my child's suffering to give me even the smallest insight into the depth of the Father’s love. I am grateful that He understands my mother heart, but that He was Merciful and Gracious enough to not stop the crucifixion.  I am grateful that the Lord loved me enough to withstand His child’s suffering.  I am grateful that because of his indescribable love, I am His.  I am grateful that he picked me up out of the muck and mire.  I am grateful that death was not the end.  I am grateful that Sunday came.  I am grateful that he lives that we may now live. I am grateful that He didn’t just save me, He continues his sanctifying work in me.  I am grateful that he whispers to me in the everyday  moments of life, teaching me of His extraordinary love and holiness.   Are you grateful this Easter?