Joy Comes!

So, as I mentioned in my last post, I was running the projector for the interface worship service that was held tonight at St. Paul's. Through art and liturgy and music, the worship service is meant to facilitate listening to the Holy Spirit. The theme of the Holy Saturday service is the Rending of the Veil, which refers to the veil that was torn at the time of Christ's death, symbolizing the direct relationship now available between man and God. A member of the congregation gave a small talk on suffering, touching on Christ's suffering, the suffering that happens to us today, etc. Following the talk was a meditative time. Often there is a slide show running during this time for those who prefer to meditate with visuals. Because I was running the projector, I also monitored the slide show.

The slides were portraits (photos, paintings, drawings) of both random people and Jesus (kind of alternating back and forth). It started out that in all the portraits, the facial expressions or poses portrayed suffering, pain, sadness--that sort of thing (similar to the photo below [not mine]).

I didn't much like the pictures, although many were very striking. And yet my strong interest in looking at pictures kept me watching each one. The thoughts running through my head were things like, we suffer, He suffered; our suffering doesn't compare to His; there is a time for suffering; suffering is universal. And I could totally appreciate those truths in my head. In my heart, however, was an underlying feeling I couldn't describe right away. There was a part of me that was keeping track of the number of slides viewed relative to the total number in the presentation, because as engaged as I was in the photos, I kinda just wanted to be at the end of them. Kind of like how a person watches the clock in a boring class. You know you have to be there, and that the information presented is important, but if it wasn't necessary, you'd totally be elsewhere.

About half way through the slide show, there was an image of Christ with His arms outstretched upwards, His face towards the sky, and His facial expression kind of neutral. The slide after that was a photo of a little girl with her arms outstretched, and with a silly, sticking-out-her-tongue facial expression. It caught my attention; this child was definitely not suffering! The images following still alternated between photos of people and portraits of Christ; however, in each image now, the facial expressions were happy, smiling, laughing. I quickly realized I had a subtle smile on my own face; the same kind I get when I watch my nieces and nephew play, or when I'm looking at photos of a past event I've shared with friends. I suddenly liked looking at the images a lot more!

After the slide show had ended, I realized that the process (on screen and in my head/heart) kinda mirrored the process that happens in real life. We know that suffering happens. We wouldn't ask for it, and given other options, I'm sure many of us would choose the out rather than the pain. We don't suffer all the time--we're not meant to. But because we live in a fallen world, we know that we will experience suffering, and that God sometimes places us in those circumstances to "grow us" in some respect. Still, I would have to say that I tend to move through times of hardship in a one-foot-in-front-of-the-other kind of manner. It's a time when I know God's truths in my head, but I don't really feel it so much in my heart. And I'm continually looking at the clock and wondering when it will just be over. ...And then there is a moment where it changes. A blessing; a healing; a realization. And I notice that the growing pains are gone, and the suffering has stopped. The blessing washes in and lightens the heart.

The disciples probably knew in their heads the promises Jesus had made right before His crucifixion. But how long those three days must have felt. Even Jesus had moments where He just wanted it to be over (Mark 14:36; Mark 15:34). Yet when we suffer, we grow by remaining engaged in Him, even though our heart doesn't like it and we feel like it's just our head that's keeping us going. But engagement heightens awareness, which heightens our relationship with God, and opens the door for His Spirit to work in us. And we then also become more acutely aware of when circumstances shift. And the next time we encounter suffering--whether in our lives or those of others--maybe we find ourselves looking at the clock just a little less often.

...It's almost Sunday. The suffering is done. Time to get your joy on.