Your Brokenness is Welcome Here

Good Friday Sermon

Karen Smith (guest preacher)

Sitting in the lament and darkness of Good Friday is something new to me. I did not grow up in a liturgical church, probably like many of you, some of these rhythms and guides are new.

My brother is close to becoming ordained in the Episcopal church in Tennessee. We have journeyed through seminary together these past few years. One of the biggest lessons I have learned from him, and the beauty of liturgy is the ability to sit in lament and darkness.

We have struggled together at the loss of our parents and found beauty in the collective grief that is All Saints Day. He has also show me the beauty of lament and expectant hope through Advent. This collective grief can also be found through this season of Lent and where we find ourselves today on Good Friday.

We know this is not the end of the story, there is more to come, but for today we cry out in this darkness to be rescued. Light shines brightest when there is darkness. And so, we sit in this darkness today in order for the light of Easter to shine brighter.

There’s a loneliness that comes with darkness. It’s hard to see if someone else is in the room with you or going through the same dark times that you are.

Now I’m pretty extraverted and I hate being alone. The older I get the more I’m learning to be ok with it, but the truth is I don’t like it at all. It’s one thing to feel alone in the daytime, that could be peaceful, fulfilling, or introspective. But there’s something entirely different to me about being alone at night and I think that’s because of the darkness found there. I think I hate the darkness because it’s often lonely.

In our lectionary reading in Hebrews 4 we hear that we have a great high priest who can sympathize with our weakness. It is because of that we can confidently approach his throne with confidence.  

In the big picture of God’s people, the Israelites had the Temple and inside that was the Holy of Holies. Now only the high priest could approach that holy space where God was. In this function, he was a mediator between the people and God. Once a year the high priest would enter this space behind the curtain and sprinkle the blood of a sacrificed animal over the mercy seat.  

It is here that we see the beauty of Christ’s work as the great high priest, in his death. He is bridging the gap between us sitting in the darkness, and God. He is the perfect high priest who offered not a yearly sacrifice, but his very body as an eternal sacrifice. He literally and figuratively tore that curtain in half that separated us and ushered in the priests, the men, women, children, the sick, the hurting, the unclean the gentiles, everyone he ushered into the presence of God.

This passage shows us he knows what it is like to be human, every temptation, every weakness, fear, all of it, he knows! And yet he also knows what it is like to be God, he was at creation, equal with the Father. He is the bridge between us.  

You have a God that is full of empathy in where you find yourself today.
Maybe you walked in these doors feeling scared and scar-ed from the way previous churches have hurt you.
Maybe your marriage is failing, and you feel lonely.

Maybe you feel unseen.

Or maybe you feel like you are at the end of your rope.

The literal God of the universe knows, and has felt that too.

Jesus walked away from his power and walked towards death.

Jesus knows what it means to suffer.

The rabbis had a saying “There are three kinds of prayers, each loftier than the preceding--prayer, crying and tears.

Prayer is made in silence.

Crying with raised voice.

But tears overcome all things.

Jesus knew these tears.

The Psalmist in Psalms 56 says God keeps track of all our sorrows and puts our tears in a bottle.

God sees your sorrow, and even more he has wept those same tears.

Revelation gives us the hope that one day God will wipe every tear from our eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain.

But today we find ourselves in the already and the not yet.

Caught in the tension of sitting in the darkness but knowing more is to come.

The reality is I’m sure many of you are experiencing suffering.

I have certainly received my fair share of suffering in this life.

I’ve been angry at God, shaken my fist, wondering why it has to be this way.

There’s something though that overwhelms me when I think about Jesus on the cross.

It’s like a mysterious space that lacks time. I realize that the brokenness I feel today was experienced by him 2000 years ago. Jesus has already lived the pain you and I feel today AND the pain you and I will feel in the future. He knows.

It’s like the image of this pain and we holdit in our hands desperate to not let go. There is so much sorrow and grief, anger and lament that birthed this seed of sorrow and we don’t want to let that go.

Here’s the mystery. When we recognize his suffering on the cross and see his empathy, we can remember that we have a great high priest who gets everything you have ever been through and everything you ever will go through. If you can find yourself able to open that grip, he will take that seed and plant it. And he is in the business of LIFE. He will take that seed of suffering, bury it with himself 2000 years ago and it will grow it into new life that produces fruit.

I hate suffering. I’ve been through a lot, but it never seems to get easier, just different. I’d much rather disconnect from it, ignore it, and move on but today on Good Friday Jesus invites us to sit in it with him.

One of my favorite authors, Henri Nouwen said, “Our efforts to disconnect ourselves from our own suffering end up disconnecting our suffering from God’s suffering for us. The way out of our loss and hurt is IN AND THROUGH.” THAT is the invitation Jesus gives you today.

Jesus wants your suffering, your sin, your anger and all the bad choices you have made, and he wants to bury them in his own grave. That is grace.

My family has been slowly working our way through seasons of the tv show called The Crown. There’s a certain protocol for people when they approach the queen. They must bow or curtsy, they can’t eat before she starts eating, they may not touch her. The show itself shows the complexity of their relationships in hierarchy, royales as well as a side of them that sometimes long to be normal just like anyone else. They want to maintain their power, and in order to do that there is a sort of demand that everyone around them keep the protocol. The royal family seems at times desperate to be seen as normal and yet unwilling to give up any power in the process.

Jesus gave up his power. In fact Philippians 2:7 says, “Instead, he gave up his divine privileges; he took the humble position of a slave and was born as a human being.
When he appeared in human form, he humbled himself in obedience to God and died a criminal’s death on a cross.”

It goes on to say, “Therefore, God elevated him to the place of highest honor and gave him the name above all other names, that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and every tongue declare that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father.”

The irony here is he gave up his power and God restored it.

After his death and resurrection, God placed him back on the throne and notice in Hebrews 4 it says, “Let us therefore approach the throne of grace with boldness.” It’s not the throne of holiness, or majesty or power. He has all those things to be sure, but God sits on a throne of grace.

You cannot approach God’s holiness with anything in your hands except your need. But here’s another wild aspect, we are to approach him in his throne with confidence.

Not on our knees groveling, not full of fear but with confidence. Christ has given you that confidence. He is the image of our king, who comes off the throne, breaks all protocol, takes the place of his child, dies for them, raises from the dead and offers that same resurrection life in return. Then he lovingly invites us to sit in his lap like a child any time we want. We are loved and we are seen by the king.

The work has been finished. That is where our confidence comes from, the finished work of Christ on the cross abolishes the royal protocols.

In the greatest act of empathy Christ took away our suffering by entering into it.

Jesus was broken for you, and he sits on his throne with open arms saying

Your brokenness is welcome here.