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Misunderstanding

One of life's greatest blessing is to be understood.  There is something within us that desires a relationship with others in which there is mutual understanding.  Without it, we can feel frustrated, depressed, and despair.  Being misunderstood makes us feel alone.  Sometimes, we try to manipulate our reality and others in it to bring that sense of understanding.  But manipulation never holds up.  Life is what it is . . . 


I hadn't thought He came from a family that misunderstood Him.  Certainly, his mother knew who He was.  After all, she was given an angelic message of this Special Infant she would bear.  Yet, I do not think she got the whole picture or knew how this would all work out.  No doubt she often wondered about her eldest Son.  What was He really up to? The rest of the family, especially the brothers, seemed to think He was totally misguided and perhaps a bit crazy.  The miraculous works He seemed to perform confused them.  If one is going to do such magical tricks, why not get out there and showboat your skills?  It seemed the more miraculous the work, the more He withdrew from the pressing crowds.  Who is this One who is our brother?


I wonder if Jesus had any talks with Mary, His mother.  Simeon the priest had told her when He was just an infant that "a sword will pierce even your own soul" (Luke 2: 35).  But I'm sure she did not understand that.  I think Mary was the first to embrace Jesus as her Savior, but somehow I think that at times she may have felt conflicted when she saw Him as her son.  There's not a lot written about her, except that she was a young virgin who birthed the very Son of God.  She was mother to other sons and daughters and appears to be a widowed  parent as they grew up.  She had to be enduring when all turned against the very One she had always loved.  It's difficult to imagine that she had the strength to watch and hear the hating crowds, let alone stand at the base of His cruel crucifixion.   It had to be a time of questioning and admitting to herself that there was no human understanding or resolution to what she had to bear.  I'm sure her heart was pierced and bled that terrible day as well.  

Yet, there is one more mention of Mary found after those horrific events.  She along with other family members are in an upper room,  devoting themselves to prayer with the disciples of Jesus.  In spite of sorrow, pain, and misunderstanding, she chose to still believe in the One she had been told would be her King.  

I'm realizing that following after Jesus means doing and believing in the Word He has given,  without knowing how our path of life will lead.  It may and most likely be one of sorrow, but that will never be the final answer.  I need to give up resisting suffering, and instead embrace my tears.  For in it, I identify remotely with the Man of Sorrows, who was intimately acquainted with grief.  To refuse sorrow is to misunderstand all that He came to be . . .                  

" . . . for without sorrow we cannot live in love."  (Thomas A Kempis)
                                                                                                                             

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