Jesus carried the cross that he would die on. Once, it had been boards which came from trees. The trees had grown up, of course, in a forest. They came from seeds which came from other trees, a cycle reaching backwards, millions of years.
At the very beginning, all things were made through Christ. I don’t know how it worked or what that looked like. But I do know that the the beginning of all the stuff that ever would be began through him.
The very stuff that would some day grow to be those trees that he would hang upon. The constituents of the nails that they would drive through his hands and feet. At that time, in the beginning, the causes, forces, and elements were swirling around that would some day come together to become the people who were around Jesus, too… Those who loved and hated him, those who betrayed him and tried to stand by his side. A chain of events that would some day lead to those very people began then, too.
When I think only about Jesus dying, it seems like a betrayal: those things that began through him turning and twisting backward, returning to kill him. But when I think about his victory through returning, it takes on a different character.
Those things that left Jesus at the beginning of time, they swirled around, took on different shapes and forms, appeared to be so far from their Source. But then, at the cross, they came back to their orgin point. It seems like a sort of homecoming.
Thoughts something like these were swirling in my head as I meditated this morning. As it always seems to be, they weren’t exactly these. I have not done them justice. Partially, because here, I am trying to justify and contextualize them. As I was breathing in silence this morning, this understanding simply was: unassailable and perfect.