A newspaper columnist struggled to find something to his liking on the menu. He had waved off the waitress twice while trying to decide. On her third trip back he finally said, “What would you order?” She said, “I bring my own lunch. I’ve seen too much.”
Having lived within the church scene for my whole life, I have seen a lot, maybe too much. It’s been up close and personal. I saw pettiness and petulance in church affairs as long ago as my childhood when a bunch of folks — some of them family friends — left “our” church to form another. I’ve dealt with outright dishonesty and theft on the part of a church treasurer. Pastors, professors, denominational leaders whom I admired turned out to have moral compasses that pointed elsewhere than true north. I felt betrayed. I know what churches sometimes do to good people for the “sake of the institution.” There is no need to elaborate further. I’ve seen a lot, maybe too much. And I have not dared touch on my own long list of sins.
Seeing too much can make you cynical. That’s the most likely outcome. It kills hope and destroys the soul. I remember as a young pastor being so shocked at the cynicism of an older colleague and vowing never to become like that. Now I fight not to “bring my own lunch” when it comes to much that goes on in the name of the church and under the banner “Christian.”
Good Friday was and is too much: conspiracy, venality, betrayal, cursing, denial, abandonment, torture, brutality, injustice, bloody death. Jesus’ own, his circle of close followers, forsook him and fled. They’d seen too much.
And so they saw less. They did not see the lamb of God taking away the sins of the world. They did not see the bruising for their iniquities or the wounding for their transgressions. They did not see good beneath bad, life shrouded in death, or hope buried in a tomb.
They fled the scene to feast on their own spare, bitter fare — there to remain until they saw with their own eyes that they had not seen near enough and or known enough to look for it.
Dimmed by the sight of too much, my eyes demand the greater sight of new life. By God’s grace I get glimpses of it, and not just on Resurrection Day. I can see it in the selfless care, love, and sacrifice of Christian people. They are a reality check on cynicism and save me from having to eat my own meager lunch.