Give Jesus Your Pain

 

 

I sat and considered Christ’s encounter with Zacchaeus, a man despised by everyone who knew him. He was Jewish, yes, but he was also a tax collector for the Roman occupiers.

The Romans gave this unsavory job to local recruits and allowed them to keep a percentage of whatever they collected. Zacchaeus and his colleagues took more than what was owed. They were parasites living off the vulnerability of their own people. When Christ decided to share a meal with Zacchaeus, the people were horrified. How could Jesus spend time with a man who was bleeding them dry?

This was His response:

The Son of Man came to seek and save those who are lost. — Luke 19:10

I considered the verse and thought about the study I’d done on it years ago. The word used here for lost means “destroyed, ruined, broken beyond repair.”

I thought about Jesus, who didn’t come for those who are doing-just-fine-thank-you. He came to save those who were and are willing to acknowledge they are broken beyond repair. And even now, in His tender way, He comes to the doors of our hidden places and invites Himself in for supper.

Jesus comes to us in the secret shadows and bids us into the light. He wants to be in communion with us, wants to help carry the load of the pain and shame we secret away in isolation.

I don’t think I’m the only one who has constructed walls around parts of myself. We all know that pain is part of life, but when too much of it happens all at once — when it happens too early in life or when we feel helpless to combat it — the pain can make us believe we don’t want to go on. It’s why we build a secret place inside ourselves where it can hang out. The pain might follow us there, but we believe it can’t hurt us as much if it’s walled up. And we falsely think that the world can’t see it either.

We can pretend that everything is okay. And perhaps that’s a sort of saving grace for some of us as children. When I think of the stories women have shared with me through the years — stories of the worst kind of abuse and betrayal — I’ve wondered how they’ve made it. Perhaps some have survived by burying the pain deep inside, but I believe now that others have discovered the beauty of living open, yet broken, with Christ.

In Luke 19, Christ makes His way into Jerusalem on the back of a donkey. The crowds welcome Him with open arms, shouting,

Blessed is the king who comes in the name of the Lord! Peace in heaven and glory in the highest! — Luke 19:38 NIV

Then Luke tells us that as Christ looked over the Holy City, He wept “because you did not recognize it when God visited you” (Luke 19:44).

Luke moves away from that panoramic picture and focuses on the weeping face of Christ. Why do you think Christ wept in that moment?

I wonder if Christ ever weeps over us when — even as we raise our voices in worship — our hearts, our shame, our pain is hidden? Is there something you have hidden away inside that you need to bring into the light of Christ?

 

~From In the Middle of the Mess by Sheila Walsh

 

Stay Encouraged and Be Blessed!