One of the questions my mind cannot make sense of these days is how to reconcile the mix of beauty and horror my last year has contained. Joy and agony, peace and terror. God’s nearness greater than I have ever known, hellish torment more real than I ever wanted to imagine.
The incongruent nature of these things, along with their overlapping and interwoven nature in my recent experience, is proving impossible for me to comprehend with any sort of clarity.
I entered this past week with this wrestle resurfacing anew in the front of my thoughts. As perplexed by it as ever.
Then comes Friday.
And still, none of these stark extremes accompanying each other makes any sense to me. Except now I see that such dissonance is at the very center of human experience.
I can lay down the fight to reconcile them and just rest, knowing the understanding of it all can never be obtained. I can only accept that it is beyond me.
Sometimes humility can bring such relief.
On Good Friday we see all of these co-existing contradictions I’ve spoken of on full and ultimate display. The horror is also the beauty. The agony is for the joy. The terror gives the peace. God Himself taking on the hell of broken humanity.
None of it makes any sense.
Except in the hands of God it does.
