On Holy Week and Strange Feelings

25 04 2011

Today has been a weird day. Let me qualify that, last week was a weird week, and it has continued to haunt me.

Not just today, but the whole week has reeked of a strange, odd, putrid cacophony of holy, disrupting, and human, high frequency, spiritually strange occurrences.

I’ve been severely disturbed. By myself and by my Savior. Not once did I feel at ease this past week. It’s odd, or maybe not so at all, because Holy Week just passed, Palm Sunday to Holy Saturday. This timeframe commemorates the time when Jesus, well-received by his people, moved quickly from someone celebrated to someone abhorred. His status disintegrated from beloved to belittled.

On a Friday, He was brutally murdered. Mocked and spit upon, His flesh was stretched to the tearing point. His wrists did tear as nail spikes were driven through them. The tendons in his feet were punctured as more nail spikes were driven through them. And all this ripping, and mailing and tearing happened so that Jesus would remain, so that Jesus would not move, so that His stretched, beaten, bloody body could not get down from, or away from a fateful death intent on suffocating the life out of Him slowly, and out of His body. Out of His Body.

A tortuous death.

In a strange way, I feel like I’ve been dying too. It being a “death” is the only way it is remotely similar to Jesus’. Other than that, it has just been emotional, and dare I say it, a type of spiritual discomfort.

Last Sunday, it all began with a funny mood. Since Palm Sunday, I do not know how to explain how I have been feeling outside of “weird”. Nothing felt normal. Still, nothing feels normal.

Maybe it’s because I knew that it was not a normal week. Maybe I knew that many years ago, something happened to someone else’s body that was not normal. So my body responded, and reacted, and refused to feel normal too.

Maybe, for the first time in my twenty-five years on earth, I was starting to learn what it would mean to feel, experience something strange happening so that something new can happen to and through it.

I pray that my body and spirit are experiencing a post-mortis affect of the death and resurrection of Jesus the Christ.

I don’t know. I still feel strange.

Maybe it’s supposed to be this way. At least I pray it’s supposed to be this way. I pray ease and comfort are rarities and that my spirit and soul continue to co-existence in a resurrected reality.

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