Next Year I'm Getting a Babysitter

Tonight was the annual Good Friday service at our church. Full of candles, quiet, darkness, and a very somber atmosphere, this time is usually a powerful reminder of Christ's final hours before His death by crucifixion, as well as a startling reminder of the severity of my own sin that played a part in nailing Him to that cross. We sing mournful hymns like, "Where You There When They Nailed Him to the Cross" and "When I Survey the Wondrous Cross" and there are candles extinguished with each song. The sanctuary gets darker and darker as the service progresses. At the end of the service we sit in complete darkness and listen to an instrument as it strikes wood, sounding eerily like the pounding of hammer on nails, but I think it is supposed to represent the rocks breaking as Christ died, and foreshadows the earthquake as the stone was rolled away from the tomb and victorious Christ came forth. We then leave the service not just in darkness but also in silence.

At least, that's how it's supposed to go. Instead, I dragged both kids to the seven o'clock service by myself (Eric had to work), which is no easy feat. There was no official nursery service, so Jack sat about a total of two minutes before he was asking for juice and wanting his book. I was so afraid he would start yelling excitedly, "Ball!!" because just about every puppy in the book is playing with a big ball. Thankfully my sister came and took him to play in the nursery with Mikaila and Jonathan. Ellie didn't last long either, and the short amount of time I was in the sanctuary I was so worried about her making noise that I could hardly concentrate. So we spent almost the whole service (me, Marika, and Jonathan) chasing kids in the church nursery.

At the end of the service tonight there was a presentation that my dad had created; he recorded a bunch of people reading a poem on the death of Christ, added really interesting and striking sound effects, and then there was a slide show playing along with it (in the darkened sanctuary) of various artistic interpretations of the crucifixions. Unfortunately, since we had the kids, we all stood in the lobby peering through the windows, trying to hear it over Jack and Mikaila's babbling. Too bad. It looked amazing.

Then, as everyone was leaving in supposed somber silence, Jack was oohing and ahhing--loudly, I might add--at all the people passing by. Thinking it was any other Sunday, he was excited to go running into the sanctuary and up the balcony stairs, where Eric usually is. So then I had to chase him all over, holding Ellie, trying to get his coat on and keep her happy (didn't happen) all the while trying to keep them both quiet. By the time I was actually pulling out of the church parking lot I was about in tears.

What's the point? Why even go? I think for me, tonight, I was determined to go because I have felt so disconnected from this Lenten season. I missed our Ash Wednesday service, haven't been to any of the Lenten suppers at our church, and just generally have not been very "conscious" of this season of remembrance and celebration. With much guilt I realized a few weeks ago that I have probably thought more about what the kids will wear on Easter than I have thought about the reason we are celebrating.

I'm not a fan of cheesy Christian slogans or cliché phrases, but lately I've had that annoying "Jesus is the reason for the season" rhyme running through my head (is that supposed to be about Christmas?), and as irritating as it is...it's really true. This season is not about bunnies, or eggs, or pastel chocolate candies, or large baskets filled with annoying grass, or even about what we will all wear to church on Sunday. How insulting to our conquering Christ that this time has somehow become about the fluff and marsh mellow peeps, about shiny white shoes and hats, and bow ties and sweater vests! What did any of that ever do for me, except give me a tummy ache when I ate my whole chocolate bunny on Easter Sunday?

For me, Easter is about a specific day set aside to celebrate Christ's victory over sin, through his death and resurrection. I don't know about you, but I personally have more sin needing to be conquered than I care to admit. The enormity of His grace is sometimes hard for me to grasp, but recently I had an experience that I felt gave me a new insight into the true meaning of grace.

I have been going to the chiropractor for years. When our insurance changed last year, I was unable to continue going as I would have to pay out of pocket, which we couldn’t afford. They worked with me to try to come up with some sort of payment plan, even offered an interest free medical loan for low-income families. We could not even afford that. I finally had to stop the woman helping me and just say, “Look—the honest truth is that I have nothing. There is no way I can pay you for this, so I’ll have to just not come.” It was humbling, as well as a bit embarrassing, to admit that.

Weeks later she called me up and told me there was a credit on my account, and that I should schedule an appointment. Seeing as how I had just given birth, and thus my bones are all slightly out of place, it was a huge blessing to be able to get a few adjustments. After coming in a few times I inquired into the amount of our credit, as I wanted to be sure I didn’t end up owing something I couldn’t pay. I was then told that someone anonymous was paying for my chiropractic treatments, and that I could come in once a week and they would be paid for. How amazing!

I continued to go to my visits once a week for a month or so. One day, there was a new receptionist working, and she asked me how I would like to pay for my visit. I stood there paralyzed, unable to find words to tactfully explain that there was some type of arrangement, that I didn’t actually have to pay anything. There was another woman standing at the counter, and other people sitting just a few feet away in the waiting room, and I was mortified that I would have to stand there and make my case in front of everyone; in that split second I was sure she would give me this horrific number of what I owed, and I would have to beg and explain that I simply did not have any means to pay that debt.

Then, in a moment of sheer mercy, the insurance lady (the compassionate one who has helped me navigate through the financial aspect of this) leaned her head in and said quietly, “She’s taken care of. Her account is paid.” What relief! What thankfulness!

As I got in my car, her words kept ringing in my ears: Her account is paid. It suddenly hit me how closely this paralleled the grace and mercy of Christ on the cross. A debt that I have no means of paying or erasing, was forgiven and “taken care of” by the grace and compassion of some stranger. The debt of my sin, the ugly, heavy burden that I am unequipped to conquer, erase, or pay on my own—this great debt was lovingly and mercifully “taken care of” by Christ on the cross, and through His victory over sin. It was out of great love that He made this sacrifice, and there is no expectation of being "paid back." It's not like Jesus did me a favor, or gave me a loan that I'll have to repay someday. I don't owe Him. If I owed Him it would be humanly impossible to ever it pay off. That's the whole point of grace.

Last night I read this quote by Max Lucado:

“Envision the moment. God on His throne. You on the earth. And between you and God, suspended between you and heaven, is Christ on the cross. Your sins have been placed on Jesus. God, who punishes sin, releases His rightful wrath on your mistakes. Jesus receives the blow. Since Christ is between you and God, you don’t. The sin is punished, but you are safe, safe in the shadow of the cross.”

Wow. That is certainly something worth celebrating and remembering every single day of the year!

I hope each of you reading this, wherever you are in the world, has a wonderful Easter Sunday celebrating the gift of grace and mercy bestowed on you through Christ's death and resurrection, and subsequent victory over the strongholds of sin.

"For nothing good have I
Whereby Thy grace to claim,
I’ll wash my garments white
In the blood of Calv’ry’s Lamb."
(Jesus Paid it All)