“As he approached Jerusalem and saw the city, he wept over it and said, ‘If you, even you, had only known on this day what would bring you peace—but now it is hidden from your eyes. The days will come upon you when your enemies will build an embankment against you and encircle you and hem you in on every side. They will dash you to the ground, you and the children within your walls. They will not leave one stone on another, because you did not recognize the time of the God’s coming to you.’” –Luke 19:41-44
Easter tears. I cried a few yesterday, somewhat like the ones Jesus must have cried over his people on his approach to Jerusalem.
There are still so many who’ve yet to recognize the time of God’s coming to them. It seems to me that the time is now. There’s no time like the present time to take hold of truth and the Truth-Giver. Or so it seems.
Maybe it’s my heart that is clouded by too much expectation—my great desire for friends, family members, and strangers alike to finally wake up to the realities of Jesus and to get down to the business of their salvation. What could be keeping them from making this life-altering decision? What possible rationalization could be offered that would make their delay a reasonable choice?
I don’t see it. I don’t get it. Apparently they don’t as well.
A frustrating wait. A grief painfully carried. Thus, my Easter tears.
If only they knew what would bring them peace.
They may not know, not yet. But I know. The answer to my Easter tears is my Easter Jesus. He is the Peace-Bringer – the Sword who slices through joint and marrow and pierces the soul with undeniable strength and clarified precision. Only Jesus is able to cut through the veil that shrouds the ignorant heart, exposing rotten flesh and offering his fresh grace in exchange.
Only Jesus. He is what they (the lost) need to know.
What about me? What about you? What do we need to know moving forward? What will bring us peace while we linger with our Easter tears?
Only Jesus. He, too, is what we need to know. Every day. Intentional investments in the curriculum named Jesus. Allowing the Teacher to pour into our souls so that we might, in turn, pour out to others.
To walk where he walks. To weep as he weeps. To pray as he prays. To speak as he speaks.
Only Jesus. This is our responsibility. It doesn’t get more responsible than this, friends. When we take on the mantle of Christianity—when we dare to call ourselves by Christ’s name—then we become responsible for something far greater than ourselves. We become care-takers of the kingdom, extraordinary shareholders of a lavish grace. A people who willingly release Easter tears for those who’ve yet to realize what would bring them peace.
When we no longer weep for the lost, then perhaps our souls need a divine sword-piercing as well. It’s not about us, Christians. We know the way home. It’s about them—those who wander aimlessly without a divine compass and who foolishly reason their navigational skills as adequate.
If only they knew what would bring them peace.
If only.
May God quicken our hearts with a response and moisten our eyes with heaven’s fuel to get the job done.
Peace for the journey,
