Far

My God, my God, why have you forsaken me? Why are you so far from helping me, from the words of my groaning? O my God, I cry by day, but you do not answer; and by night, but find no rest. Yet it was you who took me from the womb; you kept me safe on my mother’s breast. On you I was cast from my birth, and since my mother bore me you have been my God. Do not be far from me, for trouble is near and there is no one to help. - Psalm 22:1-2, 9-11

Where is the God to whom the psalmist is crying out? Where, in the psalmist’s most desperate time of need is ‘my God’? 

For some, it is difficult to perceive a God who does not come to our aid; who does not respond when we call. For others, this is the God they know: one who remains silent in the face of trouble and of doubt. 

Where is the God, who, up until this point, seems to have been present?

We do not know. We cannot say. 

Today we remember a Friday unlike any other. We remember a dying man upon a cross: Jesus Christ, King of the Jews, who dies in pain, abandoned by his closest friends, ridiculed by enemies, ignored by everyone else. And his God didn’t rush in to save the day.

Amidst this feeling of forsakenness, the psalmist has also remembered and enumerated examples of God’s care and protection:

Yet it was you who took me from the womb; you kept me safe on my mother’s breast. On you I was cast from my birth, and since my mother bore me you have been my God.

A mature faith will strive to hold these experiences of despair and joy together, moving from doubt to belief and then back again in a cyclical pattern. 
Wherever you are in this cycle of believing and unbelieving, know that though God may appear silent, God is not too far. This, we are promised.

Good Friday has been an epic fail in the church category.  My attempt to attend this morning's passion play was thwarted because I had the incorrect time and location.  I was a bit bummed because I thought it would be interesting and of course dramatic as I find Good Friday (when I take time to think about the implications).  Tonight I attended mass.  Well, I attended twenty minutes of mass.  Although I knew it would be in Spanish and I wouldn't understand it, I didn't count on a concert outside blasting, so I could barely hear the Spanish.  Plus a German shepherd mix, from off the street, walked up the aisle next to me.  After twenty minutes of the insanity, I decided I knew the story, and it was time to go.  It's not as if I didn't learn anything.  To me the color of Good Friday has always been black, but many (seriously many, mucho)  tonight (in church and on the streets) were wearing red.  It seems red is indeed a color for Good Friday.  It seems as strange to wear red on the day Jesus died as it does to call it "Good" Friday. 

As for the above verse and prompt, I struggle.  Something about Good Friday has always wanted me to buy into the pain and suffering, "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?"  I appreciate the line from today's prompt "moving from doubt to belief and then back again in a cyclical pattern."  It resonates with me. 

I fly out bright and early.  For some reason, I've spent a lot of money, perhaps too much, while I've been here.  Tonight as I walked the half block from Oxxo to my hotel, I lost my coin purse.  It only contained 30 pesos (about $3), my room key, and my towel key.  It, however, is disconcerting that someone has my room key and that they are going to charge me 200 pesos for my towel card.