FROM CRIB TO CROSS

Our son, John Michael Oakes, was born on Maundy Thursday in 1994. He came peacefully into this world, just after lunch, on the last day of March. For one reason or another, I felt very little pain during labor, so he made his way into our lives – and my arms – and heart – with incredible ease. As I held my son, I took in the miracle of his wriggling little presence with utter awe and amazement.

“Where did you come from?” I wondered. As if I didn’t know perfectly well that I had carried him and nurtured him and bumped into him every day for the past nine months. But in that crazy, transcendent mother-love moment of meeting your child face to face for the first time, the question feels right.

No matter the number of kicks and trips to the doctor and baby books I read, I could never truly grasp the reality of the coming child even though for months my baby lived inches from the palm of my hands. Labor, delivery and birth brought John (and Vanessa, Grace and Stephen) – and awareness truly began.

If this is true for my own flesh and blood – how can I ever hope to grasp the awesome reality of a God whose creative presence spans the universe? I can’t. That is why I turn to the observances of today to remember the graciousness of our creator God. Who out of love for us “became flesh” (at one time also tiny, wriggling and brand new) so that we can follow, quite literally, in His footsteps.

Today I can take some time to delve deeply into the nature of this graciousness. Despite complicated theology that too often distracts me, today’s scripture reveals a gift as profound as it is simple. This is what I read: Then he took some bread, and when he had given thanks, broke it and gave it to them, saying, “This is my body which will be given up for you.”

This is what my heart hears: I love you; I will be born, obey my mother, and grow in wisdom. I will walk among you, heal you and teach you the way of peace. I will be persecuted and crucified, my body and blood, death and resurrection will cover your lack of awareness and hurtful nature and bridge the gap between where you stand and where God is.

“Do this as a memorial to me.” I love you. I travel through time and space, humanity and divinity and meet you where you can truly take me in. I will transcend your culture, language and doubting intellect to imbue you with the grace of my love. In communion with me, you will be conformed to Me. I promise.

He did the same with the cup after supper, and said. “This cup is the new covenant in my blood which will be poured out for you.” I love you. Despite all the things that get in your way, you can hope to know Me. You have my Word.

Tonight I will sit at the table and remember the love that brings all things into being. I will take in His promise and know I leave this day better able to respond to a God that gives perfectly.

— Marey Oakes

Courtesy of The Church of the Good Shepherd United Methodist