Father, forgive us

In this life we all make the choices that seem prudent to us in our daily lives. Each of us is the product of innumerable decisions and influences, some forced upon us and others discovered for ourselves over the long and wavering course of our lives. We are all travelers in a long, trail-less wilderness, carving for ourselves a path based on instincts and hunches and following the ways laid before us by others. That is our life, and few, if any of us, know where we are heading or have any idea what we are doing.

            That is the truth wrapped up in Jesus’ words as they raised him on the cross at Golgotha. “Father, forgive them; for they do not know what they are doing.” If those were only words for a people long ago and completely unaware of the Savior of the world living in their midst it would be one thing, but a part of us knows better than that. They are timeless words whose edge cuts through the annals of history to this day. Father, forgive us, because we don’t know what we are doing. In the midst of a world debating complex issues of life and death, love and hate, freedom and temperance: Father, forgive us for we don’t know what we are doing. When faced with criticism; when we are no longer open to debate; when our faith is tired and waning, Father, forgive us.

Father, forgive us, because in the midst of this Holy Week this may be the only time when we feel lost and confused.

            Father forgive us, because when we sing “Were you there?” the truth is that we weren’t, but if we were it almost certainly would have been us nailing Christ to the tree. It would have been us scared of the government; scared of the temple leaders; scared because, as much as we do not want to admit it, there are so many things in our lives completely out of our control; scared because the most crazy idea of all was too good to be true—it would be the death of the one who embodied it. Father, forgive us.

            Father, forgive us, because we are people governed by simple desires. We love ourselves, we love our freedom; we love the nice things that we have and the enjoyment of them. No part of that makes us guilty, and why should it? We forget our neighbors; we forget our history. We are a people who need to get outside and see the strangeness of life in the midst of people we do not understand, but we are scared. Father, forgive us.

            Father, forgive us, because each of us wants to be our own little messiah, and each of us in Jesus’ place would have saved ourselves first before thinking of others.

The greatest miracle of all on this Good Friday is that there was one who did what we cannot, who didn’t puff up his sense of self-worth for the sake of temporal gain, and who gave himself for all. It wasn’t our choice. In truth, we couldn’t even see ourselves in that position. We still can’t. Though the church has been given the mission of serving those in need and bringing the gospel of Jesus Christ to the ends of the earth we are stuck on day to day matters that turn us in on ourselves. We are a people who believe that a leader should not kneel before prisoners or humble himself for the sake of sinners, as if that were a most unnatural position for a leader in God’s church when in fact this is the only position worthy of being called Christ-like. If even Jesus dying on the cross has not taught us that then our hearts are indeed hard. Father, forgive us.

            Father, forgive us, because this is the last place we want to be. We would prefer to be watching basketball or a movie, playing games or going out for drinks; we would rather be relaxing or hearing a word of encouragement. We love Easter but ignore Good Friday. We do not want the truth; we do not want the feeling of conviction that is our due. We want comfort and we crave it even as our Lord dies for our sake.

            The cross teaches that comfort is an illusion. You were not created to be comfortable. You were created to be the image of God in this world, and God doesn’t take naps; he doesn’t lounge or veg. Instead, he does what God always does; he dies on a cross, alone and rejected. Father, forgive us, because in spite of our failures we have a God who died for us. It’s more than we would do and certainly more than we deserve. Frankly, it’s unfair.