An honest look.

“You Always Hurt the One You Love…”

This is an old, old, song which has been recorded by a ton of artists including: The Ink Spots (in 1939), Paul Anka, Ringo Starr, Willie Nelson, Michael Bublé, and Ryan Gosling (2011).

I suppose it’s inevitable. The ones we love are the ones in closest proximity. To our thoughtless words and deeds. To our on-purpose unkind words and deeds. To our blatantly ugly words and deeds. The ones we love are near us and our sin and that means we will always hurt them.

But just because it’s inevitable doesn’t make it any less awful! The tearing down of my husband’s soul by a disrespectful look or a critical word is real, awful, hurt. The injury I do to my kid’s heart if I point out their weaknesses again and again is real, awful hurt. The injury I do to a co-worker or friend if I gossip about them is real, awful hurt.

Our sin hurts others. But it also hurts for us to admit it, to really take an honest look at it. So we deny it. We quickly explain away and dismiss the damage we’ve done because, “I didn’t mean it.” In essence blaming the other person for being injured by the injury we inflicted. That’s pretty heinous.

But then sometimes denial isn’t an option. Sometimes the one we love is staring us straight in the face and we can see the hurt we put there. The tears we created. This agonizing sting of seeing our sin hurting the one we love ought to bring us instantly to repentance and a sincere plea for forgiveness.

But Jesus. Oh, our sin didn’t just bring him tears, but tears and sweat in drops of blood. And isolation, rejection, mocking and scourging. A crown of thorns. A rough-hewn cross. And the nails. And the cries. And the Father’s wrath. Oh, that we would not look away. See what injury our sin cost him. Real. Awful.

Easter is coming. The Super Bowl of Christian holidays. The one where we always end up victorious with a Champion King who defeated everything wrong and broken and heinous. 

But before you put on the pastel colors, before you hide candy-filled eggs, before you come to church on Easter morning (and I do hope you will come!), please take some time to respond to the tears you put on Jesus’ face.  

See from His head, His hands, His feet,
Sorrow and love flow mingled down!
Did e’er such love and sorrow meet,
Or thorns compose so rich a crown?

Were the whole realm of nature mine,
That were a present far too small;
Love so amazing, so divine,
Demands my soul, my life, my all.

With sorrow and love as we take an honest look,