Flies

I've always wanted to be one of the people who stays at the foot of the Cross.  I've wanted to believe I love God so so much, that even when all seems lost, and He is bleeding, bruised, beaten beyond any comprehension with open, gaping wounds, flesh hanging off bone, I would stay ...and still believe.  I want to be that person ...the one with such enormous faith, the universe couldn't hold all of it.  I want to be that person who stays even when all is lost, when human reason says it's all over, there is no more to be done, it is finished. I want to be the one that when horror mounts, the real horror of human brokenness, the horror of a lost soul presents itself to me, I still ...beyond all reason ...witness for Him ...and believe.  That's who I want to be. But I am not that person.  There have been times I've believed I was that person, but I know now, I never was.
Recently I listened to a talk by Fr. Groeschel on human suffering.  He lives and works among the day to day desolation and desperation of so many people ...he sees the underbelly of life, the lost hope, the detour signs, the closed signs, so many people face day to day.  I have some options.  Grab my sneakers and head out my door, breath in the salt air, listen to the surf, and walk the deer paths of undisturbed land. I can head down the road a mile or two and sit in front of the Tabernacle ...because I know and believe in the One who is in there.  I can turn my gaze and grab my beads and pray the ancient prayer of the Rosary.  In all this, I can find some safety, security, peace ...hope.  And so I know I've been blessed, enormously. Others haven't.  It's not my hard work that's earned that ...its grace given, bestowed.
So I have to ask some hard questions of myself ...and answer them.  Would I stay, today, at the foot of the Cross?  Would you?
Fr. Groeschel describes that place ...the dried blood, the smell, the flies.  This place where Christ died, was not on a beautiful hill overlooking Boston.  It was narly and wasted and crass.  Criminals were executed there, blood carpeted the stone, layers and layers of it, and flies flourished and buzzed that annoying sound they make that cuts through to the core.  In that place, can I honestly say I would stay?
Only one apostle stayed, John.  The Mary's stayed ...who else?
I'd like to think that I would stay until the end.  I'd like to say I would help His body off the cross and adorn Him with oil.  I'd like to say I'd still see Him as my Savior even though my eyes told me something else.  Because when God's story doesn't compute for the human eye or emotion, its pretty hard to keep believing and trusting and loving.
And that's the true story of faith.  When we hang on and trust even the unbelievable ...that's faith.  When we cling to our sorrows, our losses, our persecutions and abuses ...and whisper thank you ...only then is it when I really believe.  And the truly incredulous part to me, is that all we have to do is say it, to attempt to believe we are thankful for the crosses in our lives ...and He blesses us.  Feelings have nothing to do with it.  They're nice, certainly.  It feels good to feel good ...but that's not true unity with Christ.  True unity is when we choose Him even though our feelings question and challenge His ways ...and what He's offered and allowed us in this life.
Can I see and believe the Resurrection  when I gaze at my own crosses?  Or do I jump straight to the Resurrection screaming ....you lied!  Where is this joy and peace you promised if I followed you?  I've asked, no screamed, this so many times over this past year.  The realization of that promise is all there, but I can only see it if I look through the lens of Christ's Crucifixion ...when He was spent, His total humanity was completely and totally beaten.  His humanity lost, just like ours will.  But His divinity won, always has and always will ...and He will take us with Him if we follow Him ...and believe, truly, absolutely ...and obediently in all He teaches.
What if Christ saved me through this tremendous loss?  What if Christ saved many by snatching Phoebe, taking her home?  Even one soul, saved, would be enough.  Would I stay at the foot of the Cross if it meant one more soul was saved?  For my daughter, I hope I would ...I hope.  With each praise and thank you to God for everything ...even her death, my separation from her, I can stay a bit longer.
May Christ grant all of us the grace to trust, believe and follow Him in our worst moments.

Eternal rest grant unto Phoebe and may perpetual light shine upon her.  May she rest in peace. Amen.