Ken Sande says that it's much harder to "make peace" than it is to "keep the peace" and it takes a lot more courage. We went into see my Father and didn't have an agenda...we sat there awkwardly talking about the funny guy in the automatic chair that kept making circles around us and making undecipherable sounds.
We took Juan through a journey of pictures of our lives from little kids up to the present. It's strange having to evaluate your life and what you would share with someone who missed out on it all. It makes you think of the things you are most proud of. I showed him pictures of me on mission trips around the world...places like China, Peru, Costa Rica, Romania. There was a picture of me completing a triathlon and playing my french horn (not at the same time:). Then the day I got accepted into Moody Bible Institute and pictures of different kids I had impacted in ministry over the years.....I wanted so deeply for him to understand the depth of joy that my heart feels from serving the Lord. I wanted him to see it and rejoice with me but as I shared I knew he couldn't. Juan looked at the pictures so intently...as if he was watching a movie of our lives. At one point he saw a picture of me in a friends wedding and stoped and said, "you look so nice there". In the moment I said "thanks" but since then that comment made me feel the deep hole I have as a woman who rarely feels her own beauty. I thought of the things I wished he would have said to me as a little girl and the way not hearing it marred my sense of worth.
We sat around for awhile and even stood in the cold while he smoked a cigarette. Smoking seemed like the best part of his day...the one thing he looked forward to in life. As we came inside we started to say good bye and I am not good with good bye's. I wanted it to be fast and to be done with it...but I knew it may be the last time I saw my Father. I looked him in the eye and said "we have to go now". (I don't think your ever ready for moments like that.) He sadly asked if he would see us again but we were unsure. I was thinking, "it really depends on how long you live". I gave him a hug and it felt more familiar to me...a little easier than the day before. He said, "I love you Caye" and it took all of me but I whispered over top of his head, very softly, "I love you too". And I meant it....I loved him because he was God's creation too.
This entire process has given me a different perspective on the cross and what it really means. Christ died for the worst of sinners...for people like my Dad. And at the foot of the cross I am standing next to him and the invitation is open to everyone. I mean, I knew this before in my head but forgiving the one's who hurt you most makes you face the reality of what Christ has done for you. How could I recieve God's forgiveness for me but when the time came to pay it forward withhold my own blessing? Jesus loves us so much that though our sin has offended him and greived him and even caused other's deep pain...yet he carried our sin and took the punishment we deserved on that cross....the ugliest sin was covered by that sacrifice and for those who truly surrender to him he can wash us white as snow. And the cross is a picture of God's justice and wrath coming to meet the love and mercy of Christ. It's like a huge collision of contradiction but it's all in God and it all beautifully makes sense.
To the cross I look, to the cross I cling
Of its suffering I do drink
Of its work I do sing
For on it my Savior both bruised and crushed
Showed that God is love
And God is just
Chorus:
At the cross You beckon me
You draw me gently to my knees, and I am
Lost for words, so lost in love,
I’m sweetly broken, wholly surrendered
What a priceless gift, undeserved life
Have I been given
Through Christ crucified
You’ve called me out of death
You’ve called me into life
And I was under Your wrath
Now through the cross I’m reconciled
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