Learning By Paradox

Constant. The hard wood, splintering, seemingly heavier every minute it’s carried. Uncomfortable and inconvenient, carrying as others watch on. They see the pain and yet do not know it. It hurts. Unable to know the difference between tears and sweat as they drip to the dirt. Thoughts screaming.

That cross, the heavy one, the one seemingly impossible to carry, the one that hurts physically, that one that doesn’t let up and seems to grow heavier.

I am learning by paradox.

Let me learn by paradox

That the way down is the way up,

That to be low is to be high,

That the broken heart is the healed heart,

That the contrite spirit is the rejoicing spirit,

That the repenting soul is the victorious soul,

That to have nothing is to possess all,

That to bear the cross is to wear the crown,

That to give is to receive,

That the valley is the place of vision. (“The Valley of Vision”)

As the wood splinters in through the skin, I cry out.

The cries have turned to singing and begging. Proclaiming truths with my voice. Because as I die to what I want for myself, He is there.

Then there’s a voice, not the one of Him whom I love, a different one, the one of another who loves Him too.

“Can I help with the load?”

“It’s messy, you might get hurt, and it’s really heavy,” I reply.

Before I finish, the wood seems to lift a little, become slightly lighter.

His people help me. And they love me, they cry too. They bear some of the weight.

The most important cross, He bore. Without the bearing of that cross, he wouldn’t be here with me in mine. That’s the greatest gift. Him.

I am learning by paradox.

 David said, as he was fleeing through the desert from those who wanted to kill him, “Because your steadfast love is better than life, I will praise you. So I will bless you as long as I live; in your name I will lift up my hands,” Psalm 63:3-4

Because as the sweat turns to tears and you don’t know the difference anymore, He sees you there, meets you there, and His loving kindness as you bear your cross, somehow, is your joy.

It is mine. And without the pain of a cross, I wouldn’t see that His steadfast love really is better than life.  So much better than life.

Though it may seem odd, the paradox makes me a better evangelist. I need Him, I know His kindness to me, His church is with me too. He is more precious to me in the Valley. As I treasure Him more in the valley, the more my soul longs to tell of His loving kindness, for more people to know the love that is better than life itself. Because it exists. I know that love.

To bear it means to feel pain. But better is pain soothed by His presence than the agony apart from His presence. Thank you, Jesus, for enduring that pain so I don’t have to.

The valley is the place of vision.

The broken heart is the healed heart. 

To bear the cross is to wear the crown.

What a sweet and good life. I proclaim it. It is sweet and it is good. Because His love is better than life itself. So I will praise you, I lift my hands to The Lord.