The world mourns tonight.
The Savior has died. "But we had hoped that he was the one who was going to redeem Israel..." protested Cleopas and his companion when the risen Jesus asked what they were so upset about. Hopes dashed, mixed messages and sstories that only result in a confusing jumble (Luke 24).
As we remember tonight that Jesus died, the world mourns. We mourn a Savior who seems to have not saved. We mourn the injustices suffered at the hands of oppressive regimes like the Roman empire. We mourn situations in Syria, Sudan, North Korea, etc. We mourn the accusations brought by religious leaders against those they perceive as a threat. We mourn for Palestinian Christians who are ostracized by their Muslim people as well as the Jews. We mourn our own helplessness against unjust systems. We mourn abortion, US foreign policy, human slavery and sex trafficking, poverty and homelessness. We mourn our part in nailing the Savior to the cross with our sin, our shame, our rebellion. We mourn that we are part of the religious people who marginalize, avoid or punish those we deem unworthy of God's grace. We mourn the unfairness of people being judged by their skin or race, locked inside (or outside) of walls and forced to go through humiliating and difficult processes to cross the barriers that we are told make us safe.
I mourn tonight. I mourn the rejection of tourist visas for Nicaraguan pastors who were going to visit their friends at their sister church. I mourn how I take my power and privilege for granted after sitting at a retreat on the beach pondering the Emmaus road story in Luke 24. I mourn the blindness that keeps me from seeing Jesus or seeing others as God does. I mourn my ignorance to see God's plan to make everything right with the world when it does not match my expectations.
It's Friday, but Sunday's coming; in the meantime, the world mourns, desperate for a Savior. Come, Lord Jesus.
