The Eleventh Station:
Jesus is Nailed to the Cross
It is hard to imagine a God being nailed to a cross by His own creatures.
It is even more difficult for my mind to understand a love that permitted
such a thing to happen! It seems, dear Jesus, Your love has held You bound
hand and foot as Your heart pleads for a return of love. You seem to shout
from the top of the hill “I love you – come to me – see, I am held fast – I cannot hurt you – only you can hurt Me.”
How very hard is the heart that can see such love and turn away.
Is it not true I too have turned away when I did not accept the Father’s Will
with love? Teach me to keep my arms ever open to love, to forgive and
to render service – willing to be hurt rather than hurt, satisfied to love
and not be loved in return. Amen
Prayers for the Eleventh Station of the Cross
“What do you do all day?” I hate when people ask me that question. I know most people don’t understand clergy responsibilities but still, that’s a rough question. My mother had the same irritation after she stopped teaching to be a stay at home mom. It would be the one time when she would glare at the person asking, clearly contemplating which part of their face she should tear off first. I also pause when asked because when your day is full of doing 5 things at once, there is no clean, chronological answer. And the real kick in the face is that the person asking clearly thinks nothing is being done all day. Obviously, they must think I’m someone who chooses to always be late, who enjoys never being able to find anything other than Transformers and Sunday school handouts in her massive purse and loves cold coffee that has been reheated 5 times.
Productive, capable and efficient are the words I long to hear. They are such refreshing adjectives that make me feel like I am in control and that those who see me are impressed, maybe even intimidated which is another intoxicating thought. It feels very, very safe in that place. Easter, Lent and Holy Week are hard because it shows us Christ chose to act differently. He chose to not be in control, to not meet other people’s expectations or timelines. He chose to struggle, to fall and bleed publicly. He even chose to ask God “Why?” despite an audience at his feet. With arms nailed wide, chest defenseless and exposed, he didn’t look capable, productive or efficient. He didn’t look intimidating, he looked defeated. Instead of covering himself with a socially admirable façade, he hung completely naked. If someone had judgmentally asked him “what do you do all day?” he could simply say, “I love”.