This Cup…

by Robin Gray

We are entering Passion Week under a Stay at Home order here in Florida.  There are now over 311,000 positive cases in the U.S., and the death toll has climbed to 8,438.  A somber press conference by the President last week estimated that deaths in America could be as high as 100,000-240,000 by the time Covid-19 is done with us.

A difficult Easter for healthcare workers…

Nurses in New York are begging for proper isolation gear in order to protect themselves as they care for sick and dying patients.  Politicians and pundits are blaming each other, but the virus doesn’t care who you are. It doesn’t care who you vote for or pray to.  It doesn’t care about your nationality, race or gender. Covid-19 attacks, sickens and kills indiscriminately.  

I love being a nurse.  I’ve been one virtually all of my adult life.  And I can’t help but feel a sense of empathy and comradery with other nurses across the country.  So when I hear about healthcare workers being exposed to this disease without the proper equipment necessary to protect them, it makes me angry and sad.   Contrary to popular opinion, nurses didn’t “sign up for this.” They signed up to help heal the sick and care for the dying, true enough. But they didn’t sign up to run headlong into a dangerous pandemic without the proper isolation protection.  And they never thought they would be called on to do it, but here we are.

A hard learned lesson from a tiny teacher…

I am unapologetically Christian, and a believer in miracles and the goodness of God.  But I learned as a sixteen year old girl that sometimes the miracle does not manifest in the way you believed it would.  My baby brother taught me that lesson.  

My step-mother had a normal, healthy pregnancy, but experienced a difficult delivery.  Because appropriate medical care was withheld from her when she needed it, my little brother was born with a devastating birth injury that caused him severe brain damage.  They told us he would not live a month, but we were people of faith. They told us he would never walk, talk, or even smile, but we were people of faith. My father took us to church every single time the door was open throughout our entire lives, and taught us to believe in the goodness of God and the presence of miracles, so we just believed.  We had people praying for Tray all over north Florida and south Georgia. We took him to pastors and faith leaders for the laying on of hands. We prayed and we watched him get sicker and suffer, but we were people of faith. And one day, the call came that he was gone.

I need him most when my doubt is the greatest…

I asked God then to help me understand.  I couldn’t grasp the fact that his answer had been “No” to such people of faith.  I was so angry, and so very sad.

That’s when I need God the most.  When I don’t get it. When all the healing scriptures and the faith formulas don’t work.  That’s when my prayer is often, “Help me understand this, God. Help me get it, because I don’t feel like you’ve held up your end of this agreement.  I asked, I believed, but you didn’t show. Do you understand where I’m coming from?”

And Jesus gently sits beside me and says, “Yes.  I get it. I understand. Go review Matthew 26 again and tell me what you see.”

A “socially distanced” Savior…

Ahhh… there he is in the picture.  The Jesus in the garden at midnight, with his sleeping friends and his personal anguish, sweating blood and dread.  He knew what was coming. Had known it for a long time. He’d tried to warn them, let them know what to expect. But there they were sleeping after he’d asked them to stay up and watch with him.  And there he was alone… The “socially distanced” Jesus.

“Going a little farther, he fell with his face to the ground and prayed, ‘My Father, if it is possible, may this cup be taken from me.  Yet not as I will, but as you will.’” Matthew 26:39. 

And there it is… the very human side of Jesus asking for a reprieve if there could be some other way, and in the same breath acknowledging the sovereignty of God his Father, even in the midst of his own misgivings.

He’s been there.  He gets it. He wants you to bring it to him…

Jesus came out of that prayer with a determined purpose and went to the cross.  My Daddy lost his first son and came back to the podium to lead worship. I cannot ascribe some purpose to the deaths of thousands of people all over this country and this planet, and it would be presumptive of me to do so.  But in a couple of hours I’m going to make myself a cup of coffee, put on my scrubs, and pray for my colleagues in New York, Italy, and all across the world on my drive to work. 

It does give me great comfort to know these things:

Life is hard, but God is good.

Death is sure, but heaven awaits.

And Jesus knows exactly how I feel about all of it…

“For we do not have a high priest who is unable to empathize with our weaknesses, but we have one who has been tempted in every way, just as we are — yet he did not sin.  Let us then approach God’s throne with confidence, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help us in our time of need.” Hebrews 4:15-16