But today, I feel the cost in weariness, and a rebound of discouragement.
Which should not be surprising. The cross was a fully costly experience for Jesus. He gave up every vestige of wanting to be loved by others, was disfigured, misunderstood, silent, accused, revolting. There was absolutely nothing in His walk to death that was calculated for popularity, that pushed His own agenda. The Son of Man did not come to be loved, but to love . . the cross was a full emptying of any right or desire to demand love, an in its place a full sacrifice of unreturned love towards others.
That was Jesus. That is not me. And that's why Saturday feels long, and tiring. How to thrive in a life of giving love rather than seeking it? I think a big answer is the continuous way Jesus prayed, which is strikingly portrayed in the movie the Passion. Psalms drop from his lips and flow from his heart. Patrick from our mission wrote a post about this a few days ago, the continuous prayer that taps into the power of God. Power to love. Because I can't, none of us can. May the morning's celebration of resurrection begin there, a fresh-from-the-garden encounter with the One who has the power to love, and to share that with us.