Echoes of the Garden
“Eden with graves is no longer Eden.” (Wallace Stegner, The Spectator Bird)
As we enter into these final days of Holy Week, we become increasingly aware that things are not as they should be. A tragic and brutal ground war in Eastern Europe. A global pandemic which has taken its toll in every way possible. A shooter on the subway in Brooklyn.
We feel it deep in our souls as we cry out in earnest, “Lord, have mercy.”
Maundy Thursday is the commemoration of Jesus, the suffering servant, taking off his outer cloak, grabbing a basin and a towel, and washing the feet of his friends. After humbling himself in such a lowly way, Jesus shares an intimate meal with his closest companions while instructing them to remember his sacrifice. The upper-room meal culminates in Jesus giving his disciples a new command: “Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another. By this everyone will know that you are my disciple, if you love one another.” (John 13:34-35 NIV)
As we enter into the fullness of Jesus’ passion and walk the road to the cross with him, we sense the urgency to pray, along with Jesus, that God’s will be done instead of our own. Along with Peter, James, and John, we witness our Lord and Saviour pour out his heart.
But can we stay awake?
Hebrews 12:3 implores, “Consider him who endured such opposition from sinners, so that you will not grow weary and lose heart.”
With echoes of the Garden of Eden reverberating through the narrative, Jesus is pulling his loved ones close in order to share the fullness of his presence and love with them. He’s serving them, giving them a permanent picture of how we were meant to do life together. Even knowing one of his friends will soon betray him, Jesus does not withhold his affection. Just as God walked with Adam and Eve in the cool of the day, Jesus wants his friends to know that the suffering he will soon endure is for a very specific redemptive and restorative purpose.
We will be together again.
A day is coming when death will be defeated, when all our tears will be wiped from our eyes, when we will know the fullness of God’s love, and we will enjoy God’s will on earth just as it is in heaven.
But until the day when there are no more graves in Eden, we continue to cry out, “Christ, have mercy.”
These are the questions we want to leave you with as you contemplate the fullness of God’s love through the finished work of Christ: When everything within you wants to look away, how will you keep your eyes focused on Jesus as he endures the cross and scorns its shame? What might it look like to slow down and enter into the passion of Christ with open eyes, fresh ears, and curious hearts?
Rebekah and I hope you have a blessed Easter. We pray that your days leading up to Easter will be experienced with Christ, and we pray that your journey will culminate in knowing the love of God more personally and communally.
Easter is almost here, but for now, on this side of Resurrection Sunday, we cry out from the deepest places of our hearts, “Lord, have mercy.”