Eli, Eli, lema sabachthani? My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?
The journey to Christ’s crucifixion was pigmented in mockery, laden with pain, and naked in the reality of presenting Jesus as a human being. That Christ could be condemned and brought to execution with two rebels in the face of a crowd, stirs in our spirit the frailty of life.
If even Jesus was brought to death at the hands of authority how are we so arrogant to think our life can be absent of suffering.
The high priests convinced the people that Jesus was not who he claimed to be—Son of the Most High.
Were you ever judged for being someone you were not? When God changes you on the inside, in your soul, you become a changed person. Often, not everyone catches wind of your changed personhood and you are continually judged on your former self. We have the power to let the words of the world rest on our shoulder or let the promise of Jesus wrap us up in stillness against all mockery.
Of His own life Jesus states, “No one takes it from me, but I lay it down of my own accord. I have authority to lay it down and authority to take it up again. This command I received from my father” (John 10:18 NIV).
Christ is the good shepherd. Those who believed were a very small, special group of people. They could not stop the execution of Christ nor could they stop his suffering. Thus, they suffered in their spirit. Emotionally, it was a hard cross to bear. They watched their Savior, their promise, crucified and brought to death with immense suffering.
He died for us all.
No one was exempt from His sacrifice for us. “I have other sheep that are not of this sheep pen. I must bring them also…” (John 10:16 NIV).
Jesus included me and you, friend. I haven’t always been the studious follower. I’ve had questions and doubts that stir my soul. I, like Jacob, wrestle with God. I, like the bleeding woman, feel like I’m going to bleed out from the world’s suffering.
I, like Mary Magdalene, weep when I cannot physically see the body of the deliverer.
I, like Nicodemus, show up at night armed with prayer requests and resolve to defend Christ with a question at daybreak.
Because we live, we suffer.
My life is not exempt from suffering. And we are not exempt from the judgment of others nor are we exempt from their wrath, as we learn daily in this world. What we are is spoken for. The good shepherd invited us to his circle, which is less of a circle and more of a journey within ourselves expressed in outward daily living.
Jesus died for us. We can add a loaded phrase of regurgitated words at the end of that sentence but the finality is we were died for. God sacrificed his human body to show us life.
The lost sheep, the battered and bruised, the sufferers, the rebels, the forgotten, the judged. We are all spoken for.
I am a San Antonio, Texas native and mom to Faith, Ryan, and Brooklyn. I spend my life having soul-filled conversations with my Hip Hop nerd of a husband, Erasmo. Cisneros Cafe is where I blog and is a gathering place where we find the soul grace to redefine our creative center by way of faith, social justice, and books. My work has appeared in The Acentos Review, Mudroom, The Lookout Magazine, Creative and Free, Zouch Magazine, Amity Coalition, Sagebrush Review and more.