Day 3: His Sacrifice

STATIONS OF THE CROSS

Today St. Rose did the first Stations of the Cross for this Lenten season. I remember going for the first time last year, and discovering the meaning behind the small Roman numeral marked bronze prints adorning the church walls. In all my "glimpes" of Christianity I had never even heard of The Stations of the Cross. The impact was deep and profound... and painful. Each station offers an incredibly honest and striking event in the crucifixion. If one is able, and more importantly willing, there is an opportunity to leave ones self and enter that dark and affecting and victorious moment in history. To walk among the crowd of witnesses, or maybe, beside Mary and John themselves. To feel the greif of those that knew Him and loved Him and the heat of the anger of those that hated Him. To see the tears, the fists, the faces. To hear the cross hit the ground when Jesus falls or the hammering of the nails into His hands. "Boom! Boom! Boom!"

The crucifixion has always brought me such tremendous heart ache. I think because I have always wondered what it must have been like for Christ to be beaten and cursed and rejected by His own people. The very people He was trying to help in fact. But the stations offer a much more dimensional visual of the crucifixion. A much more dimensional grasp of the sacrifice.

To know the pain of Mary and know I have walked in her shoes before. I have watched the persecution of someone I love. I've seen the suffering of the innocent and undeserving. I wept and grieved for them! Imagine Mary, who brought Christ up knowing He was God's, set apart and perfect. Imagine watching Him betrayed, accused, persecuted, hung on the cross to die. To see such love returned by such hate.

Then imagine how many swings of the hammer we ourselves have taken at the nails in His hands and feet. When His sacrifice did not outweigh our own hate or lust for worldly vices. When they hung Him on the cross I could hear the sound of the iron on iron as I did last year, and this time I could feel the vibration of the instrument in my hand. The impact of that contradiction. The realization of my own sin with the simultaneous enlightenment of the magnitude of His love and grace and sacrifice and the desire of my heart to weep and grieve for Christ like Mary.

This time, as I experienced the Stations of the Cross I didn't just witness it... I entered it. Oh, Christ, how much you have loved me and given for me. Even in your weakest moment you were carrying the weight of the entire world on your shoulders. You gave up your physical strength and in your weakness you administered grace to everyone!