Almost all gospel stories can call me to reflect on who I might be in the picture. Yesterday’s accounting of the crucifiction of Jesus from the Gospel of Luke causes me to wonder which thief I would have been: the wise, repentant one who accepted himself and asked “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom” or the the self-serving, angry one who didn’t accept his own failings and tried to get Jesus to save himself and save them as well? I’d really like to think I’m the one who came to his senses. I fear I am the one who just wanted another way out. Either way, I’m pretty sure I’m not Jesus in the center, giving everything for Love.
Walking through Holy Week, I’ll be pondering this idea. I come closer to grasping the gospel value of being servant and seeking the best for others. But, this pain thing, is hard. Granted, I delivered 3 children without the benefits of anesthesia – and did so by choice. But, the first time that choice was informed as much by a fear of the needle required for an epidural as much as the desire to feel, and live the process fully and to give my child the best start possible. For the other 2, I had discovered I could do it! And live! And recover quite nicely. Perhaps I can learn to face this idea of pain more openly after all. Then I can allow myself to see me as clearly as God sees me. And who knows where that can lead me?