What are we to make of
that?
It's not, after all,
the Sunday when we HEAR one of the Passion gospels read aloud –
that comes next week, as a solemn post-script to the triumph of Palm
Sunday.
Passion might seem to
have little to do with us – a small polite group of Anglicans
gathered in the quiet of an 8.00 celebration of Holy Communion –
and on the whole we'd probably prefer to keep it at a distance - but
it's passion that brings us together.
Not only THE Passion –
Christ's suffering on the cross......but, if you like, the passion
behind the Passion.
We're here because of
God's passion for us – that overwhelming love that brought the
universe into being and is endlessly poured out on each and every one
of God's children.
We are here because
that passion seeks us out relentlessly (the ceaseless pursuit of the
Hound of Heaven) and is not content until it has brought about our
ultimate salvation...
One dictionary defines
of passion as “intense desire” - and indeed it is God's intense
desire for us to come into relationship with Him that lies at the
root of everything. That desire, that passion, is so great that had
you or I been the only person ever born into our world, Christmas,
Holy Week and Easter would still have happened – just for us.
But we tend to think of
passion as a two way process – the glue that holds a relationship
together... so what of our part in the process? What of our passion
for God?
Does that exist at all?
Do I – do you - grasp
the depths of that love, vast as the ocean?
And, if we grasp it,
does it move us in our turn to reckless generosity?
“It is most
wonderful to see his love for me so free and sure
but tis more
wonderful to see my love for him so faint and poor”
runs a hymn I sang in
childhood – and the sad truth is that most often, even when I
glimpse the wonder of God's love, I hold back, resist the longing to
throw myself into his arms.
I'm don't really
understand why – though I guess it has something to do with a core
of selfish, rebellious independence...that part of me that fears to
be lost in wonder love and praise...even while I know that I will be
most fully myself when I am lost in Him.
My better, best self,
reading the gospel we've shared this morning identifies completely
with Mary, ready to pour out her costliest treasure – that
fragrant, wickedly expensive perfume – worth a whole year's wage
for a labourer..I long to show Jesus that I can and will give him
everything – just as he, in his passion, has given me everything.
I want to show my love
in ways that will fill the whole house with a beautiful perfume, so
that nobody can miss my extravagant devotion.
That's my best self.
But I know in my heart
of hearts that, had I been one of the crowd in that house in Bethany,
I would probably have grumbled with Judas about the terrible
waste...tutted in disapproval at such public displays of emotion...or
looked away, embarrassed at such naked feeling.
I wonder, had I stood
at the foot of the cross, if my reaction might not have been similar
– for surely there has never been such a public display of longing
love since the world began.
I struggle to enter
into God's Passion for me, risk remaining forever a spectator as I
try to hold onto an independence that is, in the end, worth nothing.
“Whatever gains I
had, these I have come to regard as loss because of of the surpassing
value of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord. For his sake I have suffered
the loss of all things...”, or, to put it another way,
“whoever tries to
keep their life will lose it”.
As we contemplate God's
passion for us, let's ask for courage and faith to let go, to fall
into those everlasting arms –for then we will discover their
strength and their gentleness as they hold us
secure.
And let's pray that the
words that Isaac Watts wrote more than 300 years ago may come to be
an expression of OUR Passion -today and every day
“Were the whole
realm of nature mine, that were an offering far too small.
Love so amazing, so
divine, demands my soul, my life, my all”
1 comment:
my song is love unknown: my saviour's love for me, love to the loveless shown. But who am I, that for my sake, my Lord should take frail flesh and die.
Love from your friend Georgie Newbery aka @theflowerfarmer
Post a Comment