April 14, 2022
I can’t believe he would do that.
What was it?
“I can’t believe he would do that.”
She just couldn’t let it go.
And honestly, I think it was for the best that she didn’t.
Because no one deserved that.
I still remember her face, looking at me over the kitchen table.
Both the room and the day were as ordinary as anything could ever be. We were surrounded by the trinkets of her life: framed pictures, mementos, special dishes.
Her crinkly arthritic hand rested on the table beside a mug of coffee. Age had changed her posture, but she was looking me hard in the eye.
She was telling me how significant it was to her, this thing someone had done. And she wanted to be sure I listened. She wanted me to know it was the truth.
Here’s the thing: those words usually are said indignantly, or at least with some disdain.
But not this time.
You know what she was talking about?
Jesus. The cross. It’s what she said:
“I can’t believe he would do that for me.”
As believers, she and I had lots of important conversations. But she wanted to be sure we had this one.
In that moment, I loved her even more for bravely plowing through the ordinary talk and saying the important thing. I loved her for demonstrating the courage to proclaim the truth of the Gospel. To this day it remains my touchstone, my “cross-in-the-pocket” reminder to bring Jesus to the table. “I can’t believe he would do that for me.”
I don’t just think about it at Easter. I think about it often. And it brings up all kinds of questions.
Tell me if this is you:
You bring your broken self, with all your mistakes, to another broken person, with all their mistakes, and you do something together. You team up at work, or you work through marriage issues, or you find ways to be a better parent. Or a better something.
And all you see is difficulty. Diseases that don’t heal, lives that end unexpectedly, brokenness that causes pain. It’s just so hard.
I’ll tell you — It’s me. My broken self, using my good arm to hang on to another limping believer and move ahead.
Just like we’re supposed to.
Here’s the hard truth:
The myth of “the perfect Christian” finally arriving to minister to the people around you — It’s not going to happen.
Give it up, and look in the mirror. God gave you the discussions, the encounters, and the conflicts.
The Good News is the Resurrection.
And the Other News is that you’re supposed to talk about it.
It’s scary. Believe me, I know. Because no young houseguest has heard me bring up the cross at my kitchen table.
Oh we talk, and we share, and we encourage. But do I bring up the cross?
I just keep waiting — for what?
Because it’s not up to others to invite me to say it.
And I always chicken out before I really say what I should.
Don’t misunderstand — I can talk about lots of things. I can focus on the commandments, the disciplines in the life of the believer, the call of Christ, and even the things God hates. I can talk about the times I’ve been rescued and restored.
As a sweet beloved aunt used to chuckle and say:
“I said all that to say this:”
But if I can’t talk about the Cross, I’m leaving out the best part. The transaction that was the center of it all.
She just couldn’t let it go.
And honestly, I think it was for the best that she didn’t.
Because no one deserved that.
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-Grammye
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