I was contemplating Christ on the cross, today: in my mind’s eye I was watching Jesus die. I was doing my best to absorb the experience, to see it as part of the unfolding narrative. I distanced myself, as best as I could, from theologies as best as I could.
I turned my hands up, as I sometimes do. There is something in this small act that feels like an act of openness. It is a request, of God, to rain something down to me.
As I turned my palms outward, I saw Jesus’ hands, also turned out. I had this sudden and striking realization… Sometimes, when we open up are hands, we don’t get grace and love rained down on us. Sometimes, they drive a nail through it. And it seems like just maybe this is how it is meant to be: we are called to have the courage of accepting whatever it is that is happening.