"Because I said so!" Words we have all heard from our own parents.
Words we swore we'd never invoke . . . until we found ourselves face to face
with a persistent little one's litany of whys.
In exasperation there they are, those four words. We blurt out, "Because I said so!"
I used to think these words were a cop out and perhaps
sometimes they are used as such, but the more I've used those words myself the
more I've understood their importance.
There are some things children cannot understand - the danger of a busy
street, the reality of their own limitations and need for sleep, the need for
the adult to have their eyes on the road as they navigate a sea of cars in rush
hour traffic, that ice cream is not breakfast food (at least not all the time). The "whys" cascade from their
little mouths like a line of dominoes gently nudging the next to fall. Sometimes
they’re trying to genuinely understand and sometimes they’re simply pushing the
boundaries.
Yes, there are things they cannot understand, things they
simply do not know. And up bubble those
words, "Because I said so." We
know. We care. We see.
“Trust me”, we say. Used in
earnest, I think that is what those words mean.
"I care about you, believe me, trust me, because I said so."
Today's gospel echoes these words. No, Jesus doesn't
use those four exact words, but listen to what he does say to a grieving woman
in the seventh chapter of Luke:
As
he drew near to the gate of the city, a man who had died was being carried out,
the only son of his mother, and she was a widow. A large crowd from the city
was with her. When the Lord saw her, he was moved with pity for her and said to
her, “Do not weep.”
"Do not weep."
Can you imagine? This woman is a widow and now she
buries her only son. And Jesus' chosen words in that moment are “Do not
weep”? Didn't Jesus weep when Lazarus
died? Isn't it natural to weep when a loved one is gone? Of course
it is.
Yet Jesus' statement "do not weep" sees beyond the
present moment. Like a parent who sees
more clearly than their child, Jesus knows something more. He knows what he
is about to do, he knows the life he is about to resurrect, and he knows the
joy that will come in a few moments by his grace. And so he says "Do not
weep."
The point is Jesus knows. He always speaks to us from a
place of knowledge. Not hunches, probabilities, or
speculations, but knowledge. He tells us
to be still because he knows what is needed to listen. He tells us to wait because he knows when we
are ready. He tells us to trust because
he knows what he has planned. He tells
us “no” because he knows what is good for us.
He tells this widow “do not weep” because he knows what he is about to do.
I can’t help but wonder the widow’s response. As someone whose tears are easy to jerk so to
speak (I oft cry at things like Smallville and So You Think You Can Dance), I’m
pretty sure I would have shot Jesus a dumbfounded slightly annoyed expression .
. . and wept.
The scripture doesn’t tell us her response. Did she ignore him and go about her mourning? Did she drop her jaw in shock or furrow her
brow in confusion? Or in that moment when her gaze
met Jesus’, did she look on him with trust and stop her crying?
That last scenario is something for me to ponder. I like to think the woman chose to trust Jesus’
words.
Next time God says to me “wait”, “trust”, “not yet”, “do not
weep”, “because I said so” - what will I do?
Will I argue, persist, complain, ask why, roll my eyes? Or will I stop, let my gaze meet his, and
trust?
“Do not weep.” He
knows. “Because I said so.” He can be trusted.
Lord Jesus, help us trust in you!
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