“Surely he took up our pain and bore our suffering, yet we considered him punished by God, stricken by him, and afflicted. But he was pierced for our transgressions, he was crushed for our iniquities; the punishment that brought us peace was on him, and by his wounds we are healed.”

We considered him punished by God. 

Wounds beg for words of explanation

A story that justifies the suffering I see 

on this tortured and weary face

“Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents

That he was born blind?”

If he’s a sinner I can ignore his wounds

they are his punishment, after all.

So I will conjure a story for him

a tale of his laziness

of his selfishness

of his having wasted plenty of opportunities

so that 

if I have compassion, 

it is because I am saintly, but 

if I ignore 

it is because he is a sinner

bearing the consequences of his waywardness

struck down by God.

Punished.

Afflicted.

My own wounds beg for words of explanation

a story that justifies my suffering

as they fester into resentment

infecting my soul with a self-righteous sense

of victimhood;

as if they were caused only by others 

these wounds I keep reopening

O! I am afflicted!

O! I am stricken!

Or sometimes 

they fester into shame; 

I am being punished by God

because I am hated by God

despised and rejected by God

unloved.

The wounds of a crucified man

beg for words of explanation

hanging naked for all to see and scorn

in shameful scandal

open wounds festering,

we considered him punished by God.

“Who sinned that this man hangs there like that?”

No,

this man didn’t sin. 

This happened so that the works of God might be displayed in him.

Wounds beg for words of explanation

No story can justify the suffering of this crucified man

but his story 

is of a suffering that justifies

this tortured and weary face

suffering with all who have been

naked and homeless for all to see

despised and scorned

suffering for those who would be rejected by God

the punishment that brought us peace was on him

by his wounds we are healed

by his wounds we are loved.

Loving God, forgive me for the ways I try to make sense of the suffering I see in the faces of those experiencing homelessness by reckoning (even if only silently to myself in the dark places of my heart) that they are “reaping what they’ve sown,” scorning them as being in some way “punished.” I shudder to consider what assessment I might have made of you hanging on the cross if I were some first-century sojourner in Jerusalem, unaware of this Jesus of Nazareth. Thank you for loving me in spite of all that is despicable and detestable within me. Thank you for your healing wounds.

MEDITATION & PRAYER WRITTEN BY
Pastor Tyler Kirkpatrick
Central Kitsap Presbyterian Church