Soon afterward, Jesus went to a town called Nain, and his disciples and a large crowd went along with him.
As he approached the town gate, a dead person was being carried out—the only son of his mother,
and she was a widow. And a large crowd from the town was with her.
When the Lord saw her, his heart went out to her and he said, “Don’t cry.”
Then he went up and touched the bier they were carrying him on, and the bearers stood still.
He said, “Young man, I say to you, get up!” The dead man sat up and began to talk,
and Jesus gave him back to his mother.
luke 7: 11-15
i’m explaining passover again to my abraham. i’m telling the story. the final plague, the reason they had to leave so fast that their bread had no leaven. the angel of death that flew overhead, over houses, stealing breath, killing every first born son.
and i caught a glimpse of the heart of god.
how could you god? how could you kill children in the night while their parents slept? their eldest son, maybe their only?
what do you know of the killing of innocent sons, oh holy one of israel?
more than i know.
could it be that of all the tragedies that we can fathom, god both experienced going through it and watching his son go through it as a father with his only child. he was both. both the only son on the cross and the father. he’s walked both paths. and he always has since those ancient, brand new days of abraham walking, knowing full well that he’d lay his beloved isaac down on the rocks. isaac with his trusting eyes on his father. god’s heart has forever born the equation we all know is wrong.
a parent is not suppose to bury a child.
that morning in egypt, when every family found their boy,
could the tears, the inhuman howling of a city that rose and rose,
could that wailing be a way in?
a way to begin to understanding what the cross even means anymore?
This is how God showed his love among us:
He sent his one and only Son into the world that we might live through him.