Went with Aud for a bible study at her church on the book of Galatians.
The pastor asked 'Who would you be? The thief hung on the side that told Jesus to save himself, or the one whom Jesus says will join him in paradise?
In many ways, I have grown more and more to be like the thief who told Jesus to save himself. I mean, it is as logical as the airline safety advertisements that advise parents to wear their own masks before helping their children. If you can't save yourself, you really shouldn't be bothering with mine.
I think I am slowly treading water right now, getting the hang of it, and if I persist, I'll be friends with this new normal. We live in a time-starved society where you do not stretch out your hand when you feel like drowning. Independence is the new cool. Don't rely on others. Help is for the weak or for the momentary occasion when resources are in excess. If you sink to rock bottom, the only bottomline visible is 'save yourself!'.
I mean, what if you prayed, hoped and with the most earnest heart asked God for help? You turn around and there he is, still hung on the cross. The only sign visible is his shadow on the cross. You almost thought he had you duped into a Easter play, and if you counted it right, the good news is just 3 days short. When 3 days passed and hang on, he's still on the cross(!!!), do you withdraw your outstretched hand, return a polite smile, and tell this chap to go save himself first.
I think my faith stops short at this juncture.
What do I do with a Jesus who looked like he cannot save me at this moment?
What do I do when I cannot save him?
Should I call for help from someone else?
Should I tell him to go save himself first and not bother about me?
Do I tell him 'it's ok, let's hang (out) together first!'
There's no modern day crucifixion, but my faith is not one as simple as 'pray and believe and get'.. My faith lies in that awkward silence while I am hanging in pain, and I believe that Jesus is crucified next to me for my sins, but He hasn't personally climbed down the cross, lasso a rope around me and heroically hoisted me off my cross. In those times of silence and helplessness, my thoughts moved from curiosity to impatience, anger to despair. I almost want to jeer him to provoke him into action. Still nothing...
I wondered if that is the sort of Christianity I wished I knew more about before taking the step of faith. That sometimes faith is watching what you placed your hopes in, only to have them torn to shreds... still visible, but beyond comprehension of how there can possibly be some new hope, new perspective, new ways that God can tell you that He still worth putting your faith on without coming down the cross to release you.
I wonder if it takes less of me to just find my own way down.
