When God Forsakes (On Good Friday)
"The Sacrament of the Last Supper,” painted by Salvador Dali in 1955.
“Joy is the infallible sign of the presence of God.” (Pierre Teilhard de Chardin)
The feeling of being forsaken (Synonyms: Abandoned, deserted, renounced, refused) has a lingering heaviness to it, a sense not easily shaken off. It’s a lingering dark cloud that creeps forward into your soul – ever slowly, yet without pause. Be it biological (“We can’t seem to get pregnant”), regarding work (“I didn’t get the job, again”), or simply unexplainable (“Maybe there’s just something wrong with me”), the feeling is horrible, serving as a door jam that allows most other dark thoughts to flood into one’s mind, quickly overwhelming the soul.
As Good Friday approaches, I am heartened by the fact that Jesus felt this darkness, seeming to grow ever more somber, even sad, in the same manner that I do in the midst of struggle. While I understand the truth inherent in Pierre Teilhard de Chardin’s declaration that “Joy is the infallible sign of the presence of God,” perhaps Good Friday, and the tumbling chaos of events that leads to the crucifixion of Jesus, give witness to the antithesis of this sentiment: that in fact, even Jesus himself wrestled with the stark emptiness of feeling abandoned by His Father right in the midst of his most desperate hour of need, experiencing a darkness akin to one of the greatest horrors one can feel: the deliberate turning away of a loved one in a desperate hour.
Oh, how dark were those hours.
Among many incredible things taking place in the last day of Jesus’ life, I am struck yet again by his blunt honesty at his closest friends’ coming betrayal and desertion of him, and yet his empathetic understanding that they will be unable to see beyond their own shortcomings, trapped in the wreckage of their own world falling apart as Jesus breathes his last. He knows that Peter and the whole lot will watch their dream of Jesus as conquering King come crashing down in a heap of blood mixed with dirt, unable to be put back together again.
As I enter into Good Friday in the midst of my own personal struggle, the creeping familiarity of feeling forsaken lurking around, I take solace in the desperation of the disciples. Following Jesus “after the fact,” I at times must remember that they had no clue that Resurrection was coming mere days later. They thought all was lost.
I wonder, if in their moment of greatest need, they remembered their dear friends’ words: “Anyone who intends to come with me has to let me lead. You’re not in the driver’s seat; I am. Don’t run from suffering; embrace it. Follow me and I’ll show you how. Self-help is no help at all. Self-sacrifice is the way, my way, to saving yourself, your true self. What good would it do to get everything you want and lose you, the real you? What could you ever trade your soul for?” (Mark 8:34-37, MSG).
I wonder, if in my moments of greatest need, I am to remember my dear friend’s words.
“Jesus told them, ‘You’re all going to feel that your world is falling apart and that it’s my fault. There’s a Scripture that says, I will strike the shepherd; the sheep will go helter-skelter. But after I am raised up, I will go ahead of you, leading the way to Galilee.’ Peter blurted out, ‘Even if everyone else is ashamed of you when things fall to pieces, I won’t be.’ Jesus said, ‘Don’t be so sure. Today, this very night in fact, before the rooster crows twice, you will deny me three times.’ He blustered in protest, ‘Even if I have to die with you, I will never deny you.’ All the others said the same thing.” (Mark 14:27-31, MSG)