Redemption At Its Finest
Last week I got married. Graciously—for a second time. My first go around donned the dress, the veil, the church, the 300 people. This time it was different. On the beach, with best friends and family. Sand and sea. Barefoot. Champagne brunch on a rooftop. Evening gathering, filled with immeasurable love and laughter. I could not have designed anything more perfect.
Even with all its imperfections.
As I’ve reflected on that moment of pure grace, I keep dancing around the great biblical notion of privileged suffering. Maybe it’s all those years in Los Angeles when I first learned of the “very important people’ concept—being on the list for On the Rox, getting in the side door with Vince Vaughn or hanging with Prince in the VIP room. Name-dropping. Walking on the red carpet. The Deserved. The Entitled.
But what if the deserved didn’t get to be first? Instead, they were last? VIP suffering, maybe? As I’ve traversed life as a widow—one without a partner but never alone or abandoned—God has gently and persistently pushed on my heart the value of sacrifice and suffering—in this world and culture. Missing out on family gatherings because I didn’t have a male counterpart was painful at times. Knowing my kids may never have a dad to coach soccer or baseball or go camping with the Cub Scouts often felt a little like lemon on a paper cut—stinging with a cry of pain but then subsiding. Or evening after evening, in the quietness of my house, knowing that I could never fill the shoes of a father and trusting that God would be there for my boys—all the time, every moment.
But I learned something invaluable. I’ve come to rejoice…sing out….praise…the privilege of suffering. Suffering, I think, is where we understand redemption. I’m sure when God the Father and God the Son decided it was time to redeem humanity, it was not about the valet parking. And I’m sure no designers were summoned to find the perfect fashion for the red carpet.
He is too VIP for that.
Instead, He chose hay and smelly animals and even some lowly shepherds for his entrance. Never owned a home. Never owned a car. Never had many possessions. Sure, there were a few palm fronds and a donkey, but definitely no limos and red carpet.
And the whole redeeming process? Betrayed. Whipped. Beaten. His own friends threw him under a bus. VIP suffering at its finest. All motivated by love. And so I ponder how to be more like Christ. To live gracefully, to love compassionately and to serve faithfully. To engage in the redemption of a broken world. Can I really get it if I am comfortable, avoiding suffering of any kind?
Not really.
Though I don’t have nor will ever know nails in my hands or thorns on my head, the more I lose and suffer in this world, the more I gain in understanding the redemption story. The more I get how truly redemptive it is that I got married again. Or that my children now have a father who can coach baseball and grill hot dogs.
The more I walk this journey, the more I know I need to follow him no matter what because suffering is about as VIP as I can get.
Even with all its imperfections.
As I’ve reflected on that moment of pure grace, I keep dancing around the great biblical notion of privileged suffering. Maybe it’s all those years in Los Angeles when I first learned of the “very important people’ concept—being on the list for On the Rox, getting in the side door with Vince Vaughn or hanging with Prince in the VIP room. Name-dropping. Walking on the red carpet. The Deserved. The Entitled.
But what if the deserved didn’t get to be first? Instead, they were last? VIP suffering, maybe? As I’ve traversed life as a widow—one without a partner but never alone or abandoned—God has gently and persistently pushed on my heart the value of sacrifice and suffering—in this world and culture. Missing out on family gatherings because I didn’t have a male counterpart was painful at times. Knowing my kids may never have a dad to coach soccer or baseball or go camping with the Cub Scouts often felt a little like lemon on a paper cut—stinging with a cry of pain but then subsiding. Or evening after evening, in the quietness of my house, knowing that I could never fill the shoes of a father and trusting that God would be there for my boys—all the time, every moment.
But I learned something invaluable. I’ve come to rejoice…sing out….praise…the privilege of suffering. Suffering, I think, is where we understand redemption. I’m sure when God the Father and God the Son decided it was time to redeem humanity, it was not about the valet parking. And I’m sure no designers were summoned to find the perfect fashion for the red carpet.
He is too VIP for that.
Instead, He chose hay and smelly animals and even some lowly shepherds for his entrance. Never owned a home. Never owned a car. Never had many possessions. Sure, there were a few palm fronds and a donkey, but definitely no limos and red carpet.
And the whole redeeming process? Betrayed. Whipped. Beaten. His own friends threw him under a bus. VIP suffering at its finest. All motivated by love. And so I ponder how to be more like Christ. To live gracefully, to love compassionately and to serve faithfully. To engage in the redemption of a broken world. Can I really get it if I am comfortable, avoiding suffering of any kind?
Not really.
Though I don’t have nor will ever know nails in my hands or thorns on my head, the more I lose and suffer in this world, the more I gain in understanding the redemption story. The more I get how truly redemptive it is that I got married again. Or that my children now have a father who can coach baseball and grill hot dogs.
The more I walk this journey, the more I know I need to follow him no matter what because suffering is about as VIP as I can get.
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