Paradoxes Along the Via Dolorosa
The tragic shooting in Nashville weighs on my mind today as I try to hold in tension the via dolorosa and the resurrection. We celebrated Palm Sunday at our church yesterday while at the same time mourned the loss of life by gun violence in Nashville. Our pastor, we learned, is good friends with the family of nine-year-old Hallie Scruggs and had just returned from her funeral.
In that moment an eerie stillness settled across the auditorium, suddenly this all feels closer to home. Within minutes, the stillness was replaced by little girls and boys toddling, running, and parading down the aisles waving palm branches in anticipation of the Soon and Coming King.
Celebration mingled together with unspeakable sorrow.
I cannot help but wrestle with this paradox. On the one hand we agonize over and grieve the evil in our world—the violent death of children, the ravages of war, this month’s destructive tornadoes, the diagnosis of cancer, a rift in our marriage, an impending layoff, or debilitating despair. On the other hand, we prepare for Easter Sunday and anticipate the good news of the resurrection.
We at once weep and rejoice, we lament and celebrate, we fall into despair and have hope all because of Jesus. He followed the via dolorosa, in obedience to his Father and to fulfill the Scriptures, bearing the burden of the cross for the sin of all humankind.
In my study of 1 Peter, I have often found it challenging to consider that we’ve been born again to a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ (1:3–5). This feels encouraging and right. Then, several passages later he calls us to follow in the footsteps of Jesus—the footsteps that lead to the cross—the via dolorosa where Jesus was tempted by Satan, ridiculed, marked for murder, spat upon, mocked, and nailed to a cross.
Peter’s whole letter, in fact, emphasizes the day-in, day-out reality of affliction that we all experience in some form or fashion. Life’s injustices, hardships, and suffering that cannot be avoided, but will not last forever.
Though you have not seen him, you love him. Though you do not now see him, you believe and rejoice with joy that is inexpressible and filled with glory, obtaining as the outcome of your faith, the salvation of your souls (1 Pet.1:8–9)
We often experience the paradox of crucifixion and resurrection, of death and life, of sorrow and joy. These opposing images raise questions sometimes for me, do they for you too? This week, I have been reminded that we do not grieve as those who do not have hope—our hope is Living. We are called to walk by faith and not by sight. So, by faith today, I stand in the gap for those who are grieving unimaginable loss along the via dolorosa…and I look forward to his return.
Maranatha. Come Lord Jesus!
