lenten journey, day 38 — a maundy thursday prayer to see his beauty

Somewhere tonight—maybe even everywhere tonight—the dark shadow of a broken world is trying to overcome the light that is the Kingdom of God. Babies are dying. Marriages are ending. Cancer spreads. Wars rage. Tempers flare. Good people remain silent in the face of injustice, while the sin-addicted cannot stop speaking in their own defense. We see this ugliness and we know that things are not as they should be, not as they were meant to be. Where is the beauty?

With all of its sorrow and falleness, tonight is not unlike the night Jesus met with his disciples in the upper room to take the Passover meal. The world as they knew it was about to shake apart in a huge way. A dark shadow was forming. For right there in that room was a sinister betrayer, one who would sell out the kindest, most merciful, most holy and loving man who ever walked earth’s dusty roads. And right there, too, was a gutless denier, one who would swear loyalty but exhibit cowardice three times in the face of danger. A doubter was there, as well. And a bunch of others who, after three years of soaking up the Messiah’s teaching, were still so clueless about who he really was.

In that room, where the ugliness of betrayal and fear and doubt and ignorance hung heavy in the air, Jesus broke the Passover bread. He did so knowing that he would soon be broken, too, in cruel and dreadful ways. Then Jesus poured the blood-red Passover wine, fully aware that within hours, his own blood would soak the ground beneath a rough-hewn cross.

Yes, the last night that Jesus shared with his disciples was one tainted by Adam and Eve’s—and our—disobedience. It was a reminder of a broken world corrupted by sin and controlled by fear.

But it was also a night filled with glimpses of exquisite beauty. A night where the Kingdom of God was startlingly near and much too bright to be overcome by the looming shadow of death. This was the night when the Passover Lamb would at last begin to fulfill the plan of redemption that God ordained before the universe was spoken into being.

This is the haunting beauty of the upper room: That Jesus, the King of Kings and Lord of Lords, would humbly assume the role of foot-washing servant; that the Holy One of Heaven would speak words of comfort to others—“I am going to prepare a place for you”—even as he began the long, lonely, comfortless journey to the cross; that the perfect and spotless Lamb of God would willingly resolve to shed his own blood so that the wrath of God might pass over those who believe in the power of his sacrifice.

As the 12 disciples observed Passover with Jesus and remembered the night long ago when God spared his chosen while claiming the first-born sons of Egypt, did they understand that Jesus is our Passover Lamb? Did they see the beauty of God’s Kingdom in that room? Do we?

Jesus, you are a truly beautiful savior. This world is so fallen and seems so dark sometimes, but it will never be dark enough to overcome the pure light of your grace and mercy. Tonight, Jesus, I remember. I remember that you loved your disciples so much that you got down on your knees to scrub the grime from between their toes. I remember that even though you must have been filled with dread for what you were about to endure, you spoke words of affection and comfort to those you loved. I remember that you commanded us to love like that, too. I remember that you are the perfect Passover Lamb who was slain to take away the sins of the world. Jesus, you are beauty in the midst of pain and light in the midst of darkness. May I remember to look for glimpses of you in the broken places of life. I want to dwell in your beauty. I want to be beautiful too. Yes, and amen.

“My command is this: Love each other as I have loved you. Greater love has no one than this, that he lay down his life for his friends.” — John 15:12-13

”I tell you the truth, you will weep and mourn while the world rejoices. You will grieve, but your grief will turn to joy.” — John 16:20