Good Friday
Every night the ancient cat pulls herself up on to my bed with great difficulty.
It takes some time for her and the effort is painful.
She comes straight up the comforter to where my head lies on the pillow, nuzzles my hair, and purrs herself to sleep hugging me tightly.
She used to roam the neighborhood during the day but she senses now that she’s too old, too slow, too deaf, to do so safely.
She stays in and stays close.
She knows the end is coming and she wants company when it arrives.
I’m preparing for it, getting ready for another goodbye.
The preparation won’t help much…I will grieve deeply.
I hate death.
Death is the inevitable end for us all, pets and people… the last word in this world is always goodbye.
Good Friday.
The day that Jesus died.
How can we possibly call that good?
We call it good because by His death, death itself was defeated.
Today, we lament the death of our Savior, and all He endured for us.
We lament the existence of death and all the pain it brings to us and those we love.
We stand in grief knowing the price that was paid for our redemption and the redemption of the whole creation.
We should lament it fully…we need to know it in its awful fullness if we are to know the real wonder of its defeat.
However, we know the end of the story.
He rose again.
Because He did,we will too.
I believe that.
I’ll miss this cat when she goes…I still miss my friend Chester every day.
I miss some people too…
I wish they’d never had to go.
Thank God for Jesus.
Good Friday…when the last words in this world were changed from “goodbye” to “see you later” .
Make your own application…
I wrote that piece a few years ago.
I never wrote the rest of the story because that cat died the worst death of any animal I’ve ever owned.
She declined suddenly and dramatically and the few minutes it took to get her to the vet were full of pain and terror.
I’ve never seen such terror in one of mine and I’ve never gotten over it.
She did not die in peace…she never heard any of my affirmations of love or thanks for her years of friendship.
She died screaming with the last reserves her little body could muster.
Most of the time we are able to sanitize and anesthetize death, whether it be the death of a human or a pet.
We follow it with talk of “rainbow bridges” and have “celebrations of life”.
This cat would have none of those lies accompany her and she faced death for what it was and what it is.
The last enemy.
It has taken me years to speak of that day, though the pictures in my mind appear without notice and those pictures taunt and condemn me.
The older I get, the less time the memories have to torment me, because every day seems to bring news of fresh grief.
The older I get , the more grief I carry and the more grief I anticipate, the better Good Friday becomes.
Death was defeated.
I wish I’d been able to speak to Mommacat about Easter…but I’ll see her soon.
Make your own application…
Postscript:
I published this last year and this was in the comment section:
I felt the grief welling up as I read of Mommacat. When I saw Em’s comment, that did me in.
“Tomb thou shalt not hold Him longer
Death is strong, but life is stronger
Stronger than the dark with the light
Stronger than wrong with the right
Faith and hope triumphant say
Christ will rise on Easter day.”
~Phillip Brooks~
This Sunday I will stand with Magdalene at the tomb and weep until the revelation dawns, a gardener for new creation life. But first I will stare into the darkness with Mary and ponder where have they taken him? I will look into the dark place with new eyes and new sorrows and new reasons to find Him.
CK,
I’ll spend the weekend pretty much undone…..so many have lost so much in the last year…
Alan,
No words are adequate…bless you and yours.
Thank you, Michael, for sharing when you learned Em had gone home.
I can’t help smiling each time I consider her present joy.
This hit me hard.
The last 24 hours of my wife’s life were horrendous.
Thank you for writing this.
IB,
I’m blessed she touched your life in some way…from everything I can see, hers was a life well lived.
Reuben,
You will see her again and all things will be well.
Jesus died to make it so…I will believe that until my last breath.
That does not minimize the devastation and loss…it’s the goal on the other side of both.
I was so touched by the story of Mommacat…and Reuben…tears!
What Em said goes ditto for me…
I really really understand not wanting to talk about it. I feel that pain.
When I reported to everyone that she had died, I said she died peacefully. She technically did as she was knocked out on drugs being pumped into her. The hours leading up to that were flat out horrific. They replay in my mind like hot fire. I remember every detail.
I should talk about it, but there is a wall there.
Some day.
Perhaps this will get overlooked but …
How many times to I have to hear that 1) God is too holy to look upon sin — as if somehow sin is kryptonite to God 2) Thus when Jesus bore our sin the Father — turned his back upon the son — a tortured anthropomorphism that is ontologically absurd. 3) The son was separated from the Father — another ontological ‘say what?’ all this rooted in the citation of Ps 22:1 by Jesus at Calvary and the rationalizing of what that means.
One charismatic leader wrote yesterday that the weight of scholarship agrees that the Father turned his back (abandoned) the son in the cross.
I remember the emotionalistic sermonizing of my youth that always sounded strange and was often accompanied by a doctor explaining the physical agonies of the cross as if the sum of them was necessary to tip the scale of our sin.
Alan,
I’m getting ready to teach, so I can’t jump in too much, but I’m glad you’re pointing out all this foolishness…thank you!
Reuben – I’ve been seeing a counselor regularly for the last two years. Sometimes there isn’t much to talk about, but sometimes its a lifesaver. That’s a very heavy load you are carrying.
Hey Josh
This last treatment program I was in, I had a therapist. I could not bring myself to talk to her about it either. She was more interested in my religious past and wondering if I ever got over that. My answer is no.
I have to trust God has a plan, because these things eat at me. Maybe I should find another therapist. Force myself to talk.
At some point, you’ll probably need to. Or I would, anyway.
I do believe God has a plan. A good one, even, and I think you’ll see it in your life in weird, unexplainable ways in the days to come. What that means theologically, doctrinally, biblically…I have no clue. But I am finding that God is better than we ever gave him credit for.