Superior In Every Way: Part I (Suffering)

Isaiah 53:3
He was despised and rejected — a man of sorrows, acquainted with deepest grief.
We turned our backs on him and looked the other way.
He was despised, and we did not care.

These are fitting words to ponder during the season of lent. The whole of chapter 53 is worth memorizing. But here I focus on the first phrase in the verse — acquainted with deepest grief.

I started this blog some months ago with the intent of getting some thoughts about Jesus down on "paper" — and yet I find I have not gotten far on that project yet. This entry is meant to begin the process of rectifying the situation!

My intent was, and is, to reflect on the superiority of Jesus Christ. In particular, I have been pondering for years about how he overcame in his life what we succumb to in our own lives.

What does it mean to say that Jesus was acquainted with grief?

My hunch is that, in essence, Jesus faced all the basic kinds of pain and suffering anyone ever faces. And triumphed over them all. My thesis is that we have a Lord who knows every kind of suffering and was familiar with all of our griefs. There is no kind of evil we face that he did not face too — and frequently under circumstances worse than our own.

Truth be told, I don't know that this is true. It's indelicate to say the words, but did Jesus endure sexual molestation as a child? Probably not. But I do hope to eventually wander the full landscape of suffering and reflect on how Jesus may (or may not have) endured it. Perhaps in the final analysis the core woundings involved in sex abuse are wounds he did receive, even if perhaps not by that route.

For today, however, I begin with something simpler: the loss of loved ones. Simpler? Yes. Easy? Far from it.

My mother passed away when I was 24 years old, just a month after I got married. Losing a mother when you are "relatively" young is not something I'd wish upon anyone. I shudder to think of losing her when I was 14. Worse still at the age of 4.

Some time ago I became intrigued by the silence in the matter of Jesus' father Joseph. The last we hear of Joseph is that Joseph and Mary took Jesus to the temple when Jesus was eleven years old. After that? Silence.

Where scriptures are silent we must of course trod with care — but it has always seemed rather obvious to me that Joseph must have died some time after that. Perhaps he died while Jesus was quite young. Perhaps much later. But I think it is safe to assume that Joseph passed away some time prior to the beginning of Jesus' ministry. In my thoughts below I'm going to assume this was the case, though it is granted that we presumably can never be sure of it.

Losing a parent is a great and terrible loss. I still mourn that my natural mother never had the chance to see my children grow up. I grieve that here on Earth my children will never meet my mother. But I had no choice in the matter. Cancer took my mother, and I had no power to stop it.

Not so for Jesus. Jesus had a choice. When his father Joseph died, Jesus could have raised him from the dead. Supposing there was a period of illness involved — Jesus could have healed him at any time. Jesus could, in fact, have prevented the onset of illness. He knew it was coming.

But he didn't do any of these things. Why?

Well... I don't know. But my suspicion is this: Jesus came to live among us, and to share in our suffering. Watching a loved one die is one of the worst agonies we as humans ever face. If Jesus had bypassed this dark valley, he would not have not been familiar with our sorrows or grief. He'd have been a bit more of a celestial tourist than a fellow sojourner if he'd taken a pass on this experience.

So Jesus knew what it's like to lose a parent. In fact, he endured what I endured... and more. I had to watch my mother die. He had to let his father die. I had no options in the matter. He did.

Superior in every way.