The Thief on the Cross

Not much to do, hanging there. The pain of it makes minutes into hours. The insults of the crowd don't help much. As if the pain, as if the price of my life weren't enough. So I take what shots I can. I have never been a man of words, certainly no poet or philosopher. But right now curses flow from my lips like water down a stream. Any fool who gets close enough gets dowsed by a different fluid. Just trying to cool off some hot heads.

I listen to the others with me, too. The guy on the far side gives as good as he gets. But the one in the center stays pretty quiet. I know some folks aren't too chatty because of the pain. But I don't hear him sobbing either. Breathing hard when he can. Gasping for breath on occasion. So when he does open his mouth, I listen:

"Forgive them, they know not what they do."

Forgive them? Them? "You're the one on the cross, buddy." No reply.

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For all of the people who pass by the spectacle which is a crucifixion, you don't see a whole lot of acquaintances to the soon-to-be deceased. I look anyway. No family in town, not that they would be here even if they were local. A few friends, though friends like mine probably wouldn't want to hang around with so many soldiers. But I keep looking, hoping someone will want to say goodbye. What else is there to do?

As I'm looking, I see a group work its way to the front. It's an odd group, certainly for the occasion. It's mostly women, and old women at that. You don't see women at a crucifixion. It doesn't happen. They may pass by on the way to wherever they're going, but they don't linger, certainly not in groups, and definitely not at the front.

They reach the front of the mob, right by the center cross. And they just stand there, weeping. It's not too long after they start that I hear the man in the middle say, "Dear woman, here is your son." Then, a little pause. "Here is your mother." He spoke clearly, though tired. And he spoke with compassion, as though their pain was greater than his own.

After he spoke I saw the man with them, pretty young, turn to the woman crying the most. She must have been center guy's mom. I wonder if my Mom will shed any tears for me. I wonder if she'll ever find out. Anyway, the old woman turned to the young man and seemed to nearly collapse onto him.

The group stayed a bit longer but then the young man started to lead them away. I think the man in the center motioned for him to do so because the young man gave a little nod. So away they went, at least to the back. But I don't think much could have dragged them away from this scene. And I started to ask myself, "What is so special about this man?"

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

And then I heard a name: Jesus. And I remembered a day many months ago. I was in a large crowd, so large people were getting trampled on. My kind of crowd. It is hard to notice someone reaching for your pouch when five other people are already pressing into you. I didn't even know why the crowd had gathered, not until I heard Him. "Be on your guard," were the first words out of His mouth. I would have run right then if there had been any room to do so. Suffice it to say, He had my attention.

He spoke about avoiding hypocrisy and that all our actions would be revealed. Wish I had paid more attention then or I might not be hanging here right now. And then He said not to fear those who can kill you but He who can throw you into Hell. And He spoke about our lives having value in the eyes of God. And then, He said, "I tell you, whoever acknowledges me before men, the Son of Man will also acknowledge him before the angels of God." And for a moment, even through the crowd, I could swear He was looking right at me. But then the moment passed.

The Man spoke some more and I listened a little. As the crowd dispersed, they called Him Jesus. I've tried to forget Him, everything He said. That look. I didn't make much that day anyway. And now, here I am, all of five feet from Him. And even now, at the very end, my life still has value to Him. What kind of man forgives those who mock and kill Him? I've never met the like, but surely no one who deserves to die, surely not like this. They called Him the King of the Jews. Maybe they were right.

As I am thinking about all this, the guy on the right chimes in again. He heckles Jesus, saying, "Aren't you the Christ? Save yourself and us!" And then I surprise myself: "Don't you fear God, since we are under the same sentence? We are punished justly, for we are getting what our deeds deserve. But this man has done nothing wrong." It all just flowed out. And as I paused to think about what I had just said, I believed every word. And I knew what I had to ask for next. "Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom." And it was quiet for just a moment but that moment seemed to stretch on forever. And finally, He answered, "I tell you the truth, today you will be with me in paradise." And then it gets dark.

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I'm not too old, but old enough to have seen some strange weather: fierce wind and rain; thunder and lightning; the roof torn off one house while the house next door is fine; clouds so thick they look like the gates of heaven. But I have never seen anything like this. It was a clear day, no clouds, a little wind. And I blinked. I closed my eyes to blue skies and opened them to pitch black. It wasn't like night. There was no moon, no city lights. It was so surprising that out of reflex I tried to rub my eyes. I couldn't reach them, of course.

At first, some of the people thought it was an eclipse. But a minute passed, then two, then ten, and still no light. Some of the soldiers, after the shock wore off, tried to light torches. And it looked like the light was being sucked into the darkness. It was eerie and quiet, broken only by the sounds of our breathing. And the sounds Jesus was making. I don't know that I could describe it. He had been tired before, but now it was like He was burdened, deeply so. He had been sad before but now it was as if He were in the greatest anguish a man could know. It was almost as if He had lost the best thing He ever had and was given the worst thing He could ever imagine. And it was like this for hours. To hear such sounds…no one spoke. Everyone there just bore silent witness. Finally, Jesus spoke, loud and clear, "Father, into your hands I commit my spirit." And just like that, Jesus died.

It was quiet again. A centurion broke the silence: "Surely, he was a righteous man." I don't say anything, don't even nod my head. What more could I add to what I have just witnessed? The crowd started to disperse, beating their breasts as they went. They came for a spectacle and they certainly got it, just not what they expected. They didn't care to ridicule anyone anymore today, to see anyone else die. Not everyone left, though. I could see that Jesus' friends were still off at a distance. Even now, they couldn't let go. I don't blame them a bit. Even though the price I paid was my life to be this close to Jesus, I would pay it again. To have seen Him, to hear Him, to know Him…not even this pain compares. And in my last hours, I keep thinking about the words He told me: "Today you will be with me in paradise." Today. Just a little bit longer. And when I see the soldier come up with the hammer, I know that it is just a little bit longer. And as the life is leaving my body, I feel that it is just a little bit longer.

And then I blink. I close my eyes to a world of darkness, and open them to a world of all-encompassing light. And I feel this weight I never knew I had lifted from my shoulders; I feel His forgiveness, His acceptance into His family. And finally, I see Him. He is no longer a broken and beaten man but a glorified king. No more a man of sorrows but endless joy. And for a moment I know He is looking right at me. And the moment stretches into eternity. And the moment never passes.

I’m Not That Guy

I was writing a blog post in regards to a viewing of Fight Club and what that revealed about me. And truly, I will post that soon. But events have occurred which must be transcribed. And so, here we go:

I believe it was the second week I was in Temple that I met Trey (ah, the joy of coming up with names to protect the innocent; soon I am going to have to make a cheat sheet for myself). He works at a nearby eatery that has free wi-fi and is a regular haunt for ministers. Comfortable chairs, nice atmosphere, good snacks, and no one will bother you; perfect for someone needing to prepare a lesson or a sermon. Hank and I went there so he could study and I could use the internets unhindered (well, not counting X3Watch, which I highly recommend; free internet accountability software is ftw). As we were browsing online, Trey and his boss were trying to move something rather heavy. Hank and I helped and Trey found this to be very admirable. He sees a lot of ministers at work and few of them would have offered to help as Hank had. It made a pretty big impression on him. So when I came by myself the next week, we talked a bit and became friends. This is in itself strange but I will come back to that.

As it happened, Trey was in the midst of getting an outreach program for veterans underway. Yeah, isn't that suspicious timing. So we go grab some lunch a few days later and then go to a research meeting for his project. The meeting goes well, extremely well in truth and I even had some useful contributions. Go figure. He then snags my resume because he has a lot of contacts in the area and he might be able to find me something. And he does at that, a very nice gig for UMHB, for which I was and am very appreciative. But I thought about it and prayed about it and full time work would not allow me the flexibility to minister that I have with my current part-time job. So I thanked him for his help but hadn't talked to him in a couple weeks.

This week, I heard that his job had closed its doors. So I called him to see if he wanted to have lunch this week, which we did today. And I find out that there is a dispute with the owners over some supposed debt but also that someone wanted to turn the place into a hookah bar. At this I was intrigued because Hank and Halley have been talking about opening a hookah bar since I got here. The thing is that the place is designed to be a ministry as well as a business and so the owners want the place to have a certain feel. So I got to talk to Trey about the gospel and the implications, a little bit about missional living and Christianity versus religion, and about hookah and how there is no place to do anything legal in the Temple area after 11 pm. And it was a good conversation. Trey told me about how he had been burned by Christians (for which I apologized) but how guys like me give him hope (for which I thanked him). And I got to invite him to my Monday Night Bible Study, which I have been toying around with for awhile and this was just the kick I needed. He's even coming to church on Sunday, which will hopefully go well.

All of that is to say this: I am not that guy. I don't say this to be humble or to dismiss my gifts. I'm saying this because I have lived with me. When I say I am anti-social it is because I am, or at least I was. When I say that now to people who have only known me for a couple months, they look at me like I am speaking Swahili. Now, apparently, I am making friends with strangers, sharing the gospel, trying things I used to shun, meeting people that before I would have said I have nothing in common with. This is my life now and I have no idea where it is headed. But thank You, Jesus, that I get to live it for Your glory.

Peter on Easter Morning

"Do this in remembrance of me."

He said those words only a few days ago. He held the bread and the wine and made them significant. His life poured out, His body broken. And He said to remember. Now, I'll never forget.

It wasn't long after that He took us to the garden and asked us to pray for Him. I didn't know why. It was the Passover, the third one we had shared. He'd been looking to the future, speaking about His death. But surely that was still a ways off. He hadn't even begun to deal with the Romans. The only people mad at Him were some of the Jews, Pharisees and leaders. Surely they wouldn't do anything to Him, not during the Passover? I didn't feel the urgency of it at all. Even when He pleaded with us to stay alert and pray, I couldn't keep my eyes open. "Simon…could you not keep watch for one hour." My first failure. If only that had been my greatest.

"Do this in remembrance of me."

It's Sunday morning, early. None of us have been sleeping well. Haunted by the last time we saw Him, our leader, our teacher. There is not much to eat but no one is particularly hungry. Just some left over bread and wine. No one has much to say, just the occasional glance at each other. And the two seats left empty.

When I saw Judas come up, I was surprised. My thoughts were still a little hazy from sleepiness. I didn't know where he had gone. I didn't know that he had gone. But I looked over at Jesus and he wasn't surprised at all…just sad. No, not sad…disappointed. And then there were soldiers and I wasn't sleepy anymore. We scattered, but I stayed nearby along with John. Part of me wishes we hadn't.

"Do this in remembrance of me."

John looks at me, like he is about to say something. Not for the first time. Everyone keeps waiting for me to lead, to give a speech, to do something, anything. But I don't have anything to say. I just keep waiting. And thinking.

John and I followed as close as we dared to see where the soldiers would take Him. As I went inside the courtyard, I was asked, "Are you one of His disciples?" Such a simple question. Just a few hours earlier, I would have puffed up my chest and answered with pride. But I was so scared. I just shrugged and mumbled no. But that didn't settle it. Another person asked, so I told him, "You've got the wrong guy." And then one more, till I cursed and screamed, "I don't know Him!" And then the rooster crowed and Jesus looked right at me. Even with the scream, He was too far away to have heard me. But He knew. The shame was too much for me. So I ran. And I wept.

"Do this in remembrance of me."

I've stopped weeping, but it feels like I'm still running. Or at least waiting to run again. Eventually, the Pharisees will look for us. Eventually, we will all have to get out of Jerusalem. We all know it. And everyone is waiting for me to say it's time. No one pressed yesterday, because of the Sabbath. Strange to care about that still. I betrayed my friend. What would God want to have to do with me now?

I wasn't there when He was found guilty, when he was beaten nearly to death. I wasn't there to cry for His release instead of Barabbas or to help Him carry that cross he bore on His bloodied back. I wasn't there to see Him suffer on that cross. I wasn't there to see Him die. I wasn't there.

But I saw the sky darken for three hours and I heard about the curtain in the temple being torn. And so I wait, but I don't know why.

Until the door flies open:

"The Tomb is empty! Jesus is risen!"

"What? Empty? Risen? Oh. Oh!"

And then I remembered. I remembered that He said He would suffer. He said he would be rejected. That He would die. And that He would rise.

And so I rose. And I ran. I ran as hard and as fast as I could to the tomb. I had to see it. I had to see Him. And the stone was rolled away. And the linens were empty. The Tomb is empty. My Lord is Risen.

What Happened This Week…or Why I Haven’t Written Anything

So, I have been a little busy this week, which is why I have no little story for you, my avid readers (all three of you). Here is a little break down:

 

Sunday:

All day hilarity. My youth minister friend, who I will call Hank, was preaching for the first time since college, I think. Twice, no less, one for the church and one for a youth rally. So church went well. Well, mostly. I work the slides and one of the youths was the worship leader that day. He does wonderful work and I think it is fair to say that he is gifted. However, he doesn't stay on script all the time, or even most of the time. This is fine for the congregation because he is really in to it and so they follow suit. But for me, who has all the slides lined up, well…it makes me look like a fool! That's fine. The youth group had a fundraiser lunch for a summer event. Tacos FTW. Went home, read a little, then went back to church to go with the youths to hear my buddy preach again. Both sermons went well. He has a little to learn but I think that has more to do with growing comfortable with preaching. The best preachers are themselves at the pulpit. His theology is solid, he loves Jesus and preaches Him, and he listens to a ton of preaching as well as being naturally a good communicator. We went out to eat afterwards, lots of fun. Went home and slept.

 

Monday:

Not a lot happened on Monday. Filled out an application for a pizza delivery job, checked on prices to get my car worked on, and screwed around on YouTube. A little reading, a little sorting and cleaning, and then sleep.

 

Tuesday:

I listened to Mark Driscoll's sermon on Men and Marriage from a couple Sundays ago and got owned in the face. Short version is that I have lived as a coward, and truly I still struggle with it, as you will see below. On the plus side, Jesus loves me and is working on me. Hooray! I then started my new project: praying for Temple College. I wandered the campus for an hour, praying over buildings and any people I saw. I thought about implementing stage two, which was to ask the staff if they need help with anything, along with anybody else who looked like they could use a hand. However, I wussed out. Next was an interview for the pizza delivery job. I will start next week. It's not much but then I don't need much and it leaves my schedule available to be of service in whatever way God leads me. Then I went over to Hank's house and helped with some cleanup in prep for a baby shower his wife (who I will call Hally) was throwing today (or Saturday, since I didn't post it right away). Then went and helped my neighbor with some grounds keeping work at his church. We mowed the lawn and watered the lawn and plants. He gave me $40 for two hours work (I told him it was only an hour and a half but he wouldn't have it). I would have done it for free but all the same, it is appreciated. Read, sleep, repeat.

 

Wednesday:

Implemented stage two for Temple College, with some intriguing results. As it happened, the college was having its Spring Fling. Lots of food and activities as well as a live band. I took a look and then went on and prayed and read the Bible a bit. I thought about checking if anybody needed help there but wussed out again. So I went across campus to the Administration building and started asking there. Well, one of the staff was a Christian and she suggested that I go see if they needed any help with the cleanup of Spring Fling. I said I would check it out, all the while thinking "Okay, God, I get it." So I head back across campus, ask a few people, and someone bites. A couple student organizations had teamed up to raise money for a potential homeless shelter, along with the start of a clothing drive. So I helped them cleanup and then we went to go set up boxes for the clothing drive. It was a bizarre experience. The group was made up of a white guy who had started and organization called Students Improving Lives Together (SILT); a black and extremely gay guy who was with True Colors, which is connected to the Gay, Straight, and Lesbian Alliance; and a white girl, and I'm not sure which organization she was a part of. Pretty diverse and I didn't really think I would meet any students so soon. The conversation at first was pretty standard banter for the first hour or so and then turned extremely sexual for the last hour. And the two guys were both Christians. Welcome to TC and to the Bible Belt.

 

Finished up there then went over to my buddy's house for a little more cleaning before heading to church. I sat in with the youth group (I'm kind of like a de facto intern for Hank and Hally, which is fine by me). The lesson was from James and we talked about what is holding us back from God, what things we weren't giving up. I said fear, which is true. What was strange is that when it came time to pray, I was the last person, and I was just nailed. I was crying, which usually happens when the Holy Spirit was on me. I said, "I am a coward and I'm awkward, and I don't know why because I have seen how awesome You are. Lord, if I am left sitting in the ashes of my life, I want to find joy because I have You." I meant every word, but I am rarely that honest, let alone with teenagers. But the teens really seemed to connect; a couple were even encouraged. Yea, Holy Spirit! Went back to Hank's and painted a little. Went home and slept.

 

Thursday:

Went to TC, read and prayed. The prayer lasted longer than expected, which I found strange. Went to check if one person was in but she was out that day. As I am about to leave, I bump into the guys from the other day. They are about to gather up the first load of clothes and take them to the Salvation Army. I help them count the clothes and then we load them in my car. The white guy and his sister ride in his car while the black guy and I follow along. I chat a little with my passenger, nothing big. We drop off the clothes (where I found a decent microwave for $10) and then look at a possible location for the shelter. There is an abandoned nursing home by the school that would work nicely but the price is $900,000. We'll see what happens.

 

Went from there to the church building to meet Hank and our other friend. We then had a two hour debate on the future of the church. They had talked about an idea earlier in the week and were telling me about it. I was pretty adamantly against it because of some of the implications. So we hashed it out and made our cases. The debate ended on the up and up and I think I got my points across as well as listened to theirs because the following day we were pretty well on the same page (I know I am skipping ahead…sorry). Kept an eye on my buddy's kids so he could take a nap and his wife could read and clean before life group at their house. Their kids are pretty awesome and we had a nice time. Had life group, went home, and then tried to sleep for several hours. I was bugged by church things, mostly the lack of spiritual maturity, but I eventually nodded off.

 

Friday:

Got up before 8 am, which is weird for me. Went to TC, read and prayed. I went to some other offices scattered around campus. No help needed but the people seemed to appreciate it, even though it surprised them. Not an unusual reaction. What was strange is that one woman wanted me to stop asking. She said, "I don't think we can take solicitations here." "But I don't want a job, I just want to help," I replied. "I know, but still." "Well, okay." Apparently she was so disturbed by a Christian wanting to help at random, just out of a desire to serve, that she shut me out. I know I am a big guy and all, but all the same, it was odd. I did, however, get to pray for one very nice lady as well as have a conversation about John's relationship to Jesus (short story, Jesus is the best youth minister, ever). So, all in all, I count it as a win.

 

Went back to apartments to grab a shovel from my neighbor and took his battery to Auto Zone. Then I went to my buddy's for more baby shower prep. Dug up some shrub stumps, ran a few errands. My friend asked why I was helping him so much. That question worried me. I find most ministers feel that they are not entitled to the same grace that they offer. I asked him, "Who ministers to you?" "No one." "Well, I'm here to help, and frankly, you are awful at asking for help." He'll work on that.

 

Then I went home. I had an interesting conversation with one of my older neighbors. Apparently multiple people in the complex think I am a minister. Not exactly, in that it is not my profession, just my life. Anyway, he asked how long I had been in ministry. So I told him a little about my life, school and working for my Dad and struggling with pornography (actually, struggling is the wrong word; failing would be more accurate), and I was about to tell him what God was bringing about in my life when he asked why I looked at porn. The simple answer is that it was easy, which is no excuse. Sin is sin, no doubt about it. So he was talking to me about that and that it would affect my ministry and that lust was the real issue, at least in his own sort of folksy way. I didn't disagree with him, partly because he wasn't entirely wrong and partly because he was older than me, and I am big on respecting my elders. In the end, it wasn't anything I hadn't heard before. But I think he was missing something. Every person mentioned in Scripture has their faults listed out, and they get pretty bad. Peter's betrayal of Jesus and Paul's persecution of the Church come to mind. Why does Scripture mention these failings? Because the plans of God are not dependant on the quality of His servants but on His power and wisdom. In fact, God often picks the worst recruits for His glory. Which is why I have to be honest about my life. Because if God loves a slacker like me, if He is willing to use a former porn-addict in His kingdom, then why not you? Anyway, I listened and then went to my apartment and went to bed, pretty early at that. Long day.

 

Saturday:

And then there is today. I spent about five and a half hours helping my buddy and his wife get ready for the baby shower. Cleaning some fancy, pink dishes (girls, am a right), sweeping the porch, and cleaning the rooms. No individual task was major, but combined it was quite a bit. Spent the next hour and a half talking with my friend while we watched the guests' children. There weren't a ton but they were rambunctious so we had to stay on our toes. Came home and typed all this. In doing so, I noticed a pattern I had not seen before: every day had cleaning of some sort. I don't know what that means yet but I'll post if I come up with anything. And now, I will read the Bible a bit, play a little Civ 4, and then go to sleep. Sunday is often busy, but it is always interesting. And a new day is a new chance to serve the God I love, the God who loves me better than I have ever loved Him. But He's teaching me.