“Jesus died crying. Jesus died of a broken heart.
Those words were still warm on His cracked lips: “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”
The movement of a life of faith is always toward answering that singular question.
Read the headlines. Read the obituaries. Read people’s eyes. Isn’t the essence of the Christian life to answer that one, nail-sharp question: “God, why in this busted-up world have You abandoned me?”
I can see that question hanging over our farm table, up in the gable, from that framed canvas of a thousand little broken squares of color.
In the semiabstract painting, there’s no tidy pattern, just light and dark bleeding into this subtle suggestion of Jesus hanging on the cross.
He’s hoarse with the begging, for Himself, for us: “God, why have You abandoned me?”
And He surfaces in the patches of color, the broken brushstrokes, the silhouette of Him visible in the chaos—Christ entering all this chaos.
And, by God, we’re the hurting beggars begging in all this chaos: ‘Be close to the brokenhearted. Save the crushed in spirit. Somehow make suffering turn this evil against itself, so that a greater life rises from the dark. God, somehow.’
Because Jesus, with His pierced side, is always on the side of the broken.
The wound in His side proves that Jesus is always on the side of the suffering, the wounded, the busted, the broken.
Jesus always moves into places moved with grief. Jesus always seeks out where the suffering is, and that’s where Jesus stays.
And — there’s brokenness that makes a canvas for God’s light to be lavishly splashed across all the darkness.
Because Jesus gets it — Jesus gets it all.
Jesus died crying.”